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“Do you?”
Her eyebrows pinch together in some sort of questioning movement. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “That! Just that!” She turns back to the party happening behind the closed doors of the bathroom, and then, with one last look, she walks away from me as fast as she can before I can grab hold of her again.
I watch her go, smirking as her ass shimmies with each step before I decide its time I follow where the bunny wants to lead. It’s what a good wolf would do, right?
As I come into the room, I notice she’s already standing next to her father. My Bunny looks over her shoulder to where I am and spots me straight away. Her lips pucker, and I wonder what she’s thinking when she stares at me. I can make a solid winning bet it’s not the same thing I’m thinking. I smile a sinister smile, which makes her look away.
“I heard you were here. Couldn’t believe it when I was told.” Taking my eyes from her, I turn to see Clinton standing next to me.
“Clinton. Still hanging around the likes of the rich and famous, I see.” The sarcasm dripping from my voice is more than evident by my tone.
“Oh, you know”—he puts a drink to his lips, looks around, then back to me—“trying to win myself a wife.”
I say nothing and turn to look back to check on her. Bunny is now watching Clinton and I interacting with narrowed eyes.
“I almost had that one. Her father was keen for it as well.” Turning my head slightly, I see Clinton looking her way, his eyes hungry as he watches her. “She called it off though, but man, I would like to fuck her again. All that ink with that red hair.” He whistles and it’s fucking annoying.
“She’s about to become my wife, so I’d watch your mouth if I were you.”
His eyes flick from her to me fast. “You wish.”
“If you’ll excuse me…” I step away and then stop. Turning back and keeping my voice low, I say, “You’ll stay away from her, won’t you, Clinton.” It isn’t a question.
“Yes.” It’s one word, but I don’t believe it.
I’d be a fool to believe anything that comes from the filthy mouth of a man like Clinton. I open my phone, find the video I am after, and click send.
Her father wants to marry her off.
And I know the perfect way to help him.
CHAPTER 5
LOTTIE
One year.
One whole year since I have seen that man, but it’s been almost every day since I thought of him.
Whore.
I am not a whore. In fact, I haven’t been with a single person since him. “The nerve of him.” I throw my bag on the floor. “You wouldn’t believe it.” I huff, reaching down to pull my heels off, my aching feet appreciative and waiting for some relief. Give me my flat shoes any day over these damn heels.
“Lottie…”
“Who does he think he is?” Pulling at the heel, I throw it, then reach for the next.
“Lottie…”
“He’s just… so…” Pulling off the next, I throw it with more gusto than probably intended. Then I sit on the floor, cross my legs with my stupid full-length dress still on, and look up at Emma.
“What’s the matter?” She stands in front of me, holding a piece of paper in her hand as she looks down on me. “Who are you talking about?” she asks.
“Whiskey. He was there tonight,” I say, succumbing to the floor and lying down where I sit.
