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“It’s nice to know you’ve been thinking of me, Sloane.”
That voice. A smooth rasp with a dark lilt to it that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. The way a doe’s ears perk up when she realizes too late that a hungry wolf is closing in on her. Teeth bared, ready to attack.
I spin in the direction of it, my face already schooled into a look I hope conveys just how unhappy I am to see him while giving away none of the embarrassment I feel at him hearing me say he’s been on my mind.
But I move too quickly, and grossly underestimate his proximity, because suddenly I’m colliding with him. Well, with his chest to be exact, but it might as well be a wall of concrete for how hard and unforgiving it is. My drink sloshes in my hand, the fruity contents spilling over the rim of the glass and turning my fingers into a sticky mess.
A soft grunt of surprise comes from Dominic as his hands fly to my waist, steadying me. His long, warm fingers dig into my flesh and give a tiny squeeze before releasing me. Then he takes a step back and glares at me. The inky black depths of his eyes flickering with the special cocktail of annoyance and impatience he reserves just for me. I glare back at him. Hating how I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.
“Don’t get too excited, Dominic. You’re always at the front of my mind when I’m contemplating murder.”
Both of his dark brows raise, reaching for his razor-sharp hairline. His lips tilt in a sarcastic smirk. “Funny. Not sure you could manage to pull off a murder though, seeing how the minor task of walking is a struggle for you.”
I sit my glass back on the bar and retrieve a napkin to wipe the alcohol and fruit juice mixture from my hand. “You’d be surprised what a person can do when they’re properly motivated. All sorts of things that should be impossible become possible.”
Mal’s head swings back and forth between us. Her glossy lips twisted in anxious frustration. “Can you guys stop? Just this once, can we have a fun night out together. I mean, when’s the last time we did that?”
Dominic and I both throw her an incredulous look. For once we seem to be on the same page about something. Mal knows good and damn well we have never had a fun night out together.
Her, Eric, and Dominic? Yes.
Me, her, and Eric. Absolutely.
Her and Dominic? Of course.
Me and her? For sure.
But fun isn’t a word I’d ever use to describe an outing where Dominic and I have to interact, and I’m certain he feels the same way since he always gives me a wide berth anytime we happen to be in the same place. Only interacting with me when I happen to invade his space, which is usually an empty room or dark corner he’s claimed as his own. And even then, he always has an insult or disarming look ready to fly. Some hurtful or below-the-belt quip meant to bring my claws out, so he can drag me down to the pits of hell with him. It’s a sweet little tradition he started at the very first party I attended with him, Eric and Mal.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for an attention whore, Sloane. I guess it’s not enough for you to have my best friend wrapped around your finger, you gotta make sure everyone else has their eyes on you too, huh?”
I shake my head, trying to free myself from the memory and the way his twelve-year-old baritone washes over me like of wave of vengeful fire, turning everything it touches into ash. Mal’s wide eyes are still bouncing between the two of us. Ill-advised hope shining in the amber pools and tugging at my heartstrings. I can do this for her. Give her this one night of fun where she doesn’t have to worry about me ripping the man’s head off.
Besides, it’ll be good practice for the next ten weeks when I can’t physically attack him without losing my job and putting my reputation as a consummate professional at stake.
“Fine.” I concede, a ripple of satisfaction zinging through me at the surprised look on Dominic’s face. He didn’t think I would agree. He expected me to storm out of here in a blaze of fury like I did at the end of our meeting with James yesterday. Not today, buddy. My lips curve as I tip my head back and smile up at him sweetly. “Dominic can stay, as long as he promises to hold my purse.”
Before he can answer, I pull the sparkly clutch from the safety of my arm and place it in his big hands. He doesn’t say a word, but the waves of hostility rolling off of him are palpable. Mal laughs and puts her bag in his hand too, but the look he gives her isn’t half as heated as the one he fixed me with.
The one that scorches my back as Mal and I weave through the crowd, parting the sea of bodies with our linked hands. We find a relatively empty spot on the dance floor and smile at each other like fools before breaking out into fluid movements that match the rhythm of the song spilling through the speakers.
“I’m so glad you didn’t let this shit with Nic ruin your night!” Mal shouts, leaning close to me so the words aren’t drowned out by the music.
I smile at her, even though I’m breathing the same air as Asshole Alexander, I am having a good time. “Thanks for encouraging me to stay.”
She winks at me, but her response is replaced by a gasp when a tall, bald man with mocha skin and a full beard comes up behind her and grabs her by the waist. He’s handsome, and a slightly lopsided smile takes over his face when Mal glances at him over her shoulder then grips his hands to hold them to her body.
It’s universal club speak for why yes, fine stranger, you can just grope me on the dance floor without so much as a hello.
Mal wiggles her eyebrows at me conspiratorially and chucks her chin at something behind me. I turn and see another man moving through the crowd with his brown eyes set on me. I freeze, the strongest sensation of dread seeping into my bones as I absorb the meaning behind his look. Any woman in the club would probably be glad to have his attention on her. I mean he’s nice-looking—if you like tall men with smooth skin and a fresh fade.
In another life, he’d probably be an option for me. Someone to smile and dance the night away with. Someone to take back to my empty house and hop into bed with. Someone to run his fingers over my skin and tell me how beautiful I am right before he strips me naked with his teeth and worships my body with his. Unfortunately for him, and maybe for me, I’m not like any of the women in this club or the girls who used to follow Dominic around in college.
I am, for lack of a better word, uninterested. Not in men, per se, just in their attention and expectations. I have no desire to know them or connect with them physically, emotionally, or anything in between.
And I know that because of my past I never will.
I just can’t find it in me to get excited about getting to know someone else, and the idea of small talk, first dates, and learning all the little things about someone new just makes me sick to my stomach. It feels like a cruel joke to have to go through it all over again, especially when I already had my great love. My person whose arms felt like home, whose heart beat in time with mine.
