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“If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”
~William Shakespeare
PRESENT
SCARLETT
I was drunk. Good and stinking drunk.
We were at the crew hotel in Seattle (not my favorite town) on a layover, and we were trolling the lobby bar.
Okay, I was trolling the bar. My girls were just there for moral support.
No wait, that wasn’t all. We were supposed to be celebrating. Something great had happened, I had to remind myself.
I’d just landed my first starring role in a feature film.
Yes, that was it. We were celebrating.
Also . . .
I was planning to make up for the fact that I’d just spent way too much time being a pathetic, lovesick fool, moping in my room, hiding in my bed.
Hating myself. Wanting to disappear.
I’d barely scraped myself together enough to make it to the fateful audition that had landed me the part that might change my life.
Even when I’d gotten the news (that I was finally, at last, going to star in a movie!) I’d barely felt even a stirring of happiness.
The last round with Dante still had its hold on me. I’d let him do his worst and the wounds he’d inflicted were just not healing.
But I’d vowed tonight that I was done with that.
I was on the hunt for a stand-in punching bag. I had decided about three drinks ago that I’d feel much better about myself if I put at least one man between me and my last memory of Dante.
I was looking around, a pout on my face. “No cute boys,” I told the girls.
Demi agreed.
“I’m not sad,” Leona said, studying me. “I don’t think I want you to find a cute boy when you’re in this shape.”
They were sitting in a booth and I was standing next to it. I was not in a sitting mood. I was in a sway to the music and get some male attention mood. I just wished there were some males around worth being noticed by.
I’d already shot down two that just weren’t cute enough. More specifically: Reject Number One wasn’t tall enough and Reject Number Two looked too wholesome.
I didn’t like wholesome, never had. I craved sinister categorically.
“Don’t speak too soon,” Farrah said, eyes aimed at the door. “I’ll let you have him if you want him, but damn, I sure don’t want to.”
I turned to see. And smiled.
It was my lucky day.
Either he was actually looking for me or it was a hell of a coincidence, but Dante’s half-brother, Bastian, had just walked in the door.
He was standing there scanning the room and it didn’t take him long to zero in on me.
He grinned.
