Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
JADE
“Julian Hart was good at what he did, maybe even better than me. I’d never be the one to tell him that. We were partners, but also competitors. And Clara Foss did not go down without a fight.” - Clara Foss, Painted Inferno
Throwing back my third shot, I hold my breath, swallowing quickly as the vodka burns my throat on its way down. Ellie, my and Nicole’s other best friend, just finished her last semester of her doctorate program, so it was only right that we come out to celebrate.
All my friends have things worth celebrating in their lives. New jobs, new career path…and then there’s me.
I’m now at the end of my deadline. Monday morning my agent is expecting to have something in her inbox.
And you know what I’ve got to send to her?
Nothing.
I let out a breath, propping my elbow on the bar as I push my forehead against my hand. The bass from the music pounds against my eardrums, a steady, yet fierce rhythm. My legs are sore from dancing, although the alcohol has me feeling relatively numb right now.
When Nicole and I graduated from college and moved into our first apartment, we met Ellie.
She lived in the apartment next to us and we ran into her the second night we were there.
She came over with her eyes puffy after a breakup and a bottle of wine.
She was new in town, only moved there because of her ex and work.
Three glasses later, she asked us if we wanted to go egg her ex’s car and the rest was history after that.
Nicole’s on the dance floor with her husband Ben, Ellie’s out there with them and some other friends, and I’m stuck at the bar with Ben’s friend, Eric, whispering in my ear.
“What do you say?” Eric says, his fingertips trailing along the side of my forearm. “You ready to get back out there?”
Eric’s attractive, but finance guys are not my thing. He’s had his eye on me for a few months now, according to Ben, although I’ve never fed in to any of his advances.
“I dunno,” I say, half slurring my words together as I roll my head to the side to look at him. His fingers linger, slowly curling around my forearm and sliding down along my wrist. “I’m pretty drunk.”
“So am I,” he laughs, his face flush as he leans closer. His hand encapsulates mine, his fingers pushing between mine. “What do you say we get out of here instead?”
My breath catches in my throat. Panic immediately swirls in the pit of my stomach, regardless of how tipsy I am. Is he hot? Yes. Is he a guy I’d consider going home with? Absolutely.
But not when I’m drunk and not when I’m not sober enough to know if it’s something I might regret in the morning.
It’s been a year since I’ve slept with anyone and I’m not sure this is the guy I want to break my streak with.
“Not tonight,” I say softly, shaking my head as I turn back to the bar, grabbing my water instead. I need to sober up and get the hell out of here. Alone. “I’m not going to leave my friends.”
“Why not? They’re not even with you right now.” He runs his fingers along mine, turning in his seat to look out at the dance floor. “I’m sure they won’t care.”
He wraps his hand around mine, pulling it away from the bar. My eyes flash to his and he’s inching my fingertips closer to his lap. “Feel what you’re doing to me, babe. You got me all fired up after you were rubbing against me while we were dancing.”
Oh my god, no.
I immediately jerk my hand free from his grip. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I didn’t say you could do that.” I hop down from my seat, grabbing my purse and my coat. “I said no. What about that word made you think I want to touch you in any way?”
His eyes narrow on mine as he spins around in his seat to face me. He lowers his feet to the ground, straightening his legs as he stands up. He sways, ever so slightly. “You were all over me while we were dancing.”
“We were dancing, that was it.” He takes a step toward me and I practically jump backwards away from him. I collide with a warm, solid body behind me. “I’m so sorry,” I say in a rush, my words slurring as I turn to face the person.
I stumble as I turn, the room half spinning with me. Large, warm hands dart out, wrapping around my biceps to steady me. I stare at the chest in front of me, my eyes slowly trailing upwards until I meet his gray eyes.
“Matteo?”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Hey, Sunny.” His expression hardens, his eyebrows drawing close as he scans my face. My chest heaves, my heart beating harder. His eyes flick behind me. “This guy bothering you?”
My breathing hitches. “Oh—um, no. Everything’s okay.”
“You can go, man,” Eric says, stepping up beside us, puffing his chest.
My body falls rigid. Matteo’s hands are still holding me upright. His eyes shift to mine. “Do you want me to leave?”
I swallow roughly, my nostrils widening. My hair dances along my back as I move my head back and forth. “No. Eric was just leaving.” I look over at him. “Weren’t you?”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up with her,” he says to Matteo, giving me a dirty look. “She’s just a tease.”
Matteo’s fingers tighten around my biceps, not hard enough to squeeze, but almost as if holding onto me is the only thing stopping his hands from curling into fists.
Eric turns and walks away, Matteo’s eyes following him. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are dark. Distant and cold.
“Matteo.”
His eyes slice back to mine.
“You can let go of me now.”
He blinks. Once. Twice. Warmth chases away the cold. His throat bobs as he swallows hard then clears his throat. I notice his absence as soon as his hands fall away from my arms. “Sorry.” He lifts his hand, running it through his tousled hair. “Who was that guy?”
I shake my head. “A friend of a friend. I just met him tonight and don’t plan on ever talking to him again.”
Matteo tilts his head to the side, his eyes doing a slow scan of my face. They don’t stop as they run down my bare neck, along the scooping neckline of my dress. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, no.” I swallow roughly, meeting his gaze as his eyes bounce back to mine. “He just misread the situation and thought I was interested, which I am not.”
I don’t know why I added that last little piece. It doesn’t matter to Matteo. He doesn’t need to know whether or not I’m interested in some guy he doesn’t even know.
The room shifts. I feel like I’m going to overheat. Warmth surges through my veins. I only had a few shots and one mixed drink, but I don’t have much of a tolerance.
“I’m gonna head out.”
Matteo’s brows furrow. “Are you here alone?”
“No, my friends are somewhere,” I explain, waving my hand dismissively, not bothering to look for them. I’ll text them; they’ll understand. “I’m only a ten minute walk from here, it’s fine.”
I pull open my purse, finding my phone and a hair clip. I gather my hair, pulling it away from my neck to secure it with the clip.
“I’ll walk you.”
My heart skips a beat, my eyes widening slightly. “What?”
“It’s dark outside. I’m not letting you walk alone.”
“I—uh.” I pause, looking around the room. The music is still pounding, people are still dancing, and the lights above are still flashing. “What about whoever you’re here with?”
Matteo smirks, cocking his head to the side. “Are you worried I might be here with another woman?”
The air grows thick around us.
“I’m not worried about anything that concerns you, Matteo Ford.” I pause, lifting my brows. “Besides, if you were here with another woman, why would you be leaving with me?”
His lips part, his tongue darting out to wet them, and my traitorous heart stumbles again. His eyes are hooded, slowly searching mine, like he’s taking a moment to choose his words carefully.
“I’m not here with anyone else,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. “I’ve been hoping I’d run into you again.” His fingers brush against mine as he takes my coat, opens it up, and waits for me to slide my arms in. I do, turning around as he slides it up over my shoulders.
He leans in. “Come on, Sunny.” The side of his face brushes against mine. He moves beside me, his hand brushing against mine, but he doesn’t slip his fingers through mine.
The back of his hand rests against mine, as if he’s testing the waters.
It’s like he’s silently telling me it’s okay, he’s not going to push me.
He wants me to be the one to make a move.
He doesn’t pull away. He stays there, the heat radiating from him.
A hint of a woodsy yet bold scent infiltrates my senses.
My heart beats harder, skipping a beat every three beats. It’s because of my heart issues, not because of him. My heart would never betray me like that.
I straighten my fingers, the backs of my fingertips grazing his. The music is so loud, but I swear I hear the sharp intake of his breath. “I don’t want to go home.”
He arches a brow. “No?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, shaking my head. “I just want to get out of here. It’s too loud, too crowded.” I pause, the corner of my mouth lifting. “And there’s no food.”
A ghost of a smile drifts across his lips. “I know just the place.”