Chapter 20
My ride pulls off, and I step up onto the curb. Staring at the bright, purple sign above the lounge, I can’t help but wonder if tonight will be a welcomed distraction, or if I’ll regret not canceling. Either way, I’m here now, a full face of makeup, my hair swept up into an elegant ponytail, wearing a skin-tight black dress with one strap, and expensive heels I’ve only ever put on once before tonight.
What I’m trying to say is that I put far too much work into getting this look right to turn back now. Besides, dinner with friends, celebrating Dove and Chris’s engagement, sounds like just the thing to get my mind off the work drama.
Hell, it might even help me rid my mind of a vision that may or may not involve Martinez being zipped up inside a body bag.
I draw in a deep breath, force a smile when I thank the guy who holds the door open for me, then I step inside. The place is dimly lit and definitely has a vibe. The bar near the entrance is packed, and I make plans to drown my sorrows there if I’m still feeling like shit by the end of the night. I actually planned ahead for such a thing, hence the reason I arranged to be driven instead of chancing it with my car on the road.
The hostess escorts me to Dove and Chris’s section, and I feel my face light up the moment I spot my friends seated at a long table in the center of the dining area. The happy couple are surrounded by a few of their coworkers and acquaintances I’ve never met, but from the looks of things, Isha and Eliza saved me a seat.
Dove leaps out of her chair.
“You made it!”
I squeeze Dove just as hard as she squeezes me, letting the tension of the day slough off, so I don’t ruin her night.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She takes a step back to assess my outfit.
“Shit, Layla! You’re gonna steal my thunder in that dress,” she teases, winking as she smiles.
“Impossible. You’re a beauty.”
My compliment has her striking a playful pose with her hand underneath her chin. “I do my best.”
She laughs, and I place a kiss on her cheek, handing over a small, black gift bag. “I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to bring you guys something, so I figured it was safer not to come empty handed.”
Her expression is heartfelt as she places a hand on her chest. “You didn’t have to do this. Your presence is more than enough.”
She squeezes me with another hug as I spot Eliza and Isha making their way over.
“This bitch always has to make a fashionable entrance, doesn’t she?” Eliza says with a teasing eye roll, and then pulls me into a hug so tight, it rivals Dove’s.
Isha grabs me next, and I feel even more of the tension leaving me.
“You guys have no idea how much I needed this.” My words bring flashes of the shit I’ve put up with over the last couple weeks. I hear Martinez’s and the others’ words and laughter like they’re being shouted in my ears. I’ve pretended not to be affected, but it’s all a mirage.
Inside, it’s screwing with me.
Isha puts a small amount of space between us, but she continues holding my shoulders while she looks me over.
“Are you okay?”
“Rough day?” Eliza adds.
I shake my head and fight the sting of tears, fearing my life drama will take away from Dove’s moment.
“No, all good. I’m just a little tired.”
They stare a moment, and I’m almost certain they aren’t buying that. A theory that’s only confirmed when Isha’s eyes narrow before she speaks.
“I’ve asked before, Layla, but I’ll ask again… do we need to fuck someone up? It’s nothing for me to pull my hair up and—”
I interrupt her rant with a laugh. “No, relax. I’m fine. Besides, aren’t we here to celebrate this fabulous bitch?” I gesture toward Dove, and she strikes another pose.
“I mean, technically, it’s Chris’s day, too, but who are we really kidding?” Eliza says. “Everyone knows it’s all about the bride.”
“See? This is why I keep you three around. No one gets me like you do,” Dove says, and we trail behind her, making our way to our seats.
I drop down between Isha and Eliza, with Isha’s husband seated on her other side. I wave and whisper hello to him, feeling grateful to be surrounded by the love of friends. It would’ve sucked to no longer have a plus one and to have gotten stuck sitting beside strangers.
I glance across the table to Dove. Chris leans in to whisper, and I read his lips as he tells her she’s stunning. She blushes, and I can’t fight my smile as they share a quick kiss before remembering they’re not the only two people in the room.
Once the drinks start flowing, time seems to slow, and I’ve realized that it’s taken surprisingly little energy to push the work drama aside and focus on tonight. Those who were strangers when I walked in thirty minutes ago, I now mutually follow on social media, and it feels like I’ve known them for years. Over all, I feel… lighter.
“The guy at the end of the table, Luke, he’s single, ya know,” Isha leans in to whisper. “And don’t tell me you haven’t noticed him staring at you since you walked in.”
Her words bring heat to my face, and I do my best not to embarrass the poor guy by making eye contact.
“I came alone, and I have no problem leaving alone,” I assure her.
“Bullshit. You’ve had your heart put through the ringer by that asshat, Martinez. If anyone deserves a little meaningless sex with a hot stranger, it’s you, babe. Trust me.”
I laugh a bit, but it’s cut short when she leans in to ask another question.
“Speaking of meaningless sex with strangers… have you reached out to Damien yet?”
The heat of embarrassment that warmed my face a moment ago is replaced by a powerful blaze.
“We’ll talk.”
That answer leaves her very visibly intrigued, but she doesn’t pry. When we have a bit more privacy, I’ll explain that I don’t actually plan to reach out to him, which will inevitably come with a lengthy lecture. But for now, I’ll let her have hope.
Hope that wouldn’t exist if she knew the reason I’ve deemed it best for there to be as much separation between Damien and I as humanly possible.
She leans away to chat with her husband, and with Eliza just as tied up in conversation with her date, I’m finally starting to feel a hint of that loneliness that evaded me at first. I’m not consumed by it, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it stings a little.
To keep from seeming like I’m eavesdropping on either conversation, I scan the room, feeling far less guilty gawking at couples I don’t know than I do gawking at my friends. This spot draws a more mature crowd than The Jungle, but it’s not exactly stiff or stale. Just chill.
My eyes drift toward the door when it swings open, and I try to guess what combination will walk in next. Will it be a bachelorette party staggering through the entrance, clearly having stopped elsewhere for a few drinks before they got here? Or maybe a handful of guys out celebrating one’s recent divorce? I smile, waiting to see if either of those predictions are right, but half a second later, that smile is completely gone, and my jaw falls slack.
Standing at the entrance in dark slacks paired with a wine-colored shirt, and a petite model-type hanging on his arm… is fucking Martinez. He hasn’t spotted me, but that smug look on his face means he’s come here with a date for one reason. To get under my skin.The woman on his arm looks like she hasn’t smiled in years, and as she pushes long, dark hair over her shoulder, she stares down her nose at everyone else in the room.
My posture stiffens and all the bad energy I’d managed to get rid of comes rushing back in one powerful wave, crashing over me while I try to remember to breathe.
Seeing him with someone else doesn’t have the effect on me I’m guessing he’s hoping it will. What’s jarring is that he’d stoop this low, showing up at the time and location of Dove and Chris’s engagement party. After he admitted to getting the reminder for the event just this morning.
Does he think this will hurt?
Does he want me to feel like I’ve missed out on something?
Or is he just a world-class asshole with the mental capacity of a middle school boy?
Before I can gather myself, he spots me and shoots a smirk my way. I swear I want to full-on growl right now, but I refuse to let anyone know what’s happened. My girls have never met or even seen Martinez, so as long as I can keep my composure and control my anger, things should be fine.
I shift my attention, pretending he isn’t even here, but I’m aware as he pulls out his date’s seat, and then drops down across from her at their table.
It dawns on me that I’ve got nothing to prove. If staying here is going to fuck up my vibe again, there’s no shame in admitting this—coupled with the shit he pulls at work—is too much for me.
With that, I decide to lay my ego aside and dismiss myself for the evening. However, the second my lips part to whisper the first lie that comes to mind into Isha’s ear, I’m startled by a shadow over my shoulder, towering over me.
I peer up, half expecting to find Martinez’s brazen ass standing there. But the moment my eyes lock on a set of gray-blue irises so familiar it’s like I’ve stared into them a thousand times, it’s clear my assumption was wrong.
“Damien…”
His name falls from my mouth like a piece of candy falling from my lips—lingering sweetness, wishing I could’ve savored it just a moment longer.
Dark ink creeps up the side of his neck in the shape of a large spider, the legs extending past the collar of his black dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. He smells like lust and eternity, and I want to drown myself in it. A dark gray suit fits him to absolute perfection, while his watch and cufflinks glitter beneath the dim lights on the track above our table.
Like the last time we were face-to-face, his hair is this sexy tamed-but-untamed mess of dark strands with a slight curl to them on top. Then the cut tapers low in the back and on the sides, fading into a nicely trimmed and edged style. It’s like this man bathed in sex, money, and temptation, slipped into a suit, and then lowered himself into my life like that spider inked on his neck. I imagine it, him sitting, patiently waiting for my guard to be down, so he can strike.
I swallow deeply, trying to think of what to say as the quiet conversations once going on around the table grow faint before stopping completely. I can only assume everyone’s now tuned into the scene I’m not even sure how to explain. However, Damien’s relaxed smile somehow melts away the anxiety that had me frozen in place.
“You’re… here,” I practically choke out.
I’m frozen again when he takes my chin, and then holds my gaze as the distance between us is swallowed up. Then, half a second later, his lips meet mine.
I’m not sure if he meant for this to be deep and sensual, but my lips just sort of part on their own, begging for his tongue. He happily obliges as I’m sure my friends all stare in utter shock, watching as I fight to hold back the urge to swallow this man whole.
He exercises more self-control than I could even think to muster and pulls away.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says, smiling down on me like we’d discussed his being here.
Isha’s husband grabs a seat from the table beside us, offering it to Damien as Dove’s guests make room. Damien settles in beside me, sporting a wicked smile that hides a multitude of secrets, but he’s made one thing crystal clear.
He doesn’t intend to let me push through the evening alone.
As of sixty seconds ago, I went from being dateless and watching Martinez waltz into the lounge with some random, to this.
Having the most devastatingly attractive “plus one” at the table.