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I handed it back over with a smirk. “Make sure you don’t bid on any more penguins now. Be a responsible little bitch for half the night at least.”
“That’s it, is it?” she asked. “You’re really going to steal my coke and fuck off again?”
I straightened my cheap bowtie as I got to my feet. My silence was answer enough as I walked away.
I was out of sight of her when I pulled my cell from my pocket and fired up the app through encryption. I was out of the venue and in the parking lot when the first bleep of her location showed up on my screen.
Yes. Perfect. Absolutely damn perfect. Just as I’d been planning, and just as I’d been craving.
The pretty Constantine bitch was at my fingertips.16ElaineI would have probably snorted a fresh round of coke if he hadn’t stolen it from me. I was trembling as I gathered my things together and headed back through to the sea of people in the gala room. My heartbeat was fast, and my legs felt like weak little twigs.
He could’ve killed me. Yet again, he could’ve killed me. So, why hadn’t he? Why hadn’t he torn me apart?
Harriet was still her amazing self as I sat back down at our table. She gave me her usual supportive smile and reached out to pull me close.
“You’re doing great,” she encouraged, but I felt anything but great. I felt like every bit the broken mirror – a flawed Constantine blonde, at odds with all the others.
Harriet seemed blind to the fear in my eyes, no doubt putting my shivers down to coke withdrawal and little else.
Or maybe not . . .
“Did I see you talking to the journalist guy?” she asked me with a smile. “I was only joking when I said he looked like Lucian Morelli and you could go after him instead.”
I nearly spat it out and told her, but I didn’t.
“I know you were joking, don’t worry,” I whispered. “I couldn’t go after anyone without Mom tearing them down before I’d even planted a kiss on their lips.”
Harriet didn’t even bother attempting to argue with me; she knew I was right.
The night dragged. Terence Kingsley was gone.
I drank more champagne, but didn’t feel the thrill or the release, just piled into the car with my chauffeur when it was acceptably late enough to bail on the shitshow. I opted for my apartment in the city, barely looking out the car window as it took me home, but there was something weird about the journey. An odd shiver down my spine.
It felt like I was being watched. That strange intuition when you know there are eyes on you.
I scoffed at myself. More cocaine withdrawal. I guess paranoia was a sensible addition to the list.
Or maybe I should be adding the Power brothers.
The chauffeur opened the door for me when I got to the block, and I glanced around before I headed up to my suite. I was still feeling it. Still feeling those eyes on me.
I dropped my clutch on the table when I got inside, not bothering to restock the lining with more coke. I really was done with it this time.
I was done with Lucian Morelli, too. I had to be done with him. For good. Cross my needy heart.
I got in bed and slept until late, waking up with a muggy head and a pounding heart to go along with it. I trembled and craved more drugs, but I ignored it, eating ice cream for breakfast, even though it made me retch. I watched some of my favorite movies from my childhood, knowing the words by heart. I remembered being a tiny little girl who still believed in the world. I thought about the dreams I’d believed in when I still thought they could be real.
And I thought about Lucian Morelli. Even though I’d sworn to my heart I was over him, I thought about Lucian Morelli.
I ignored my cell. I ignored everything. I ignored my heart, and my hurt, and the scalpel blade screaming to me from my bedside table. But I couldn’t ignore my thoughts about Lucian damn Morelli.
I had a Roosevelt dinner scheduled that night, on the lawn at my Uncle Crane’s mansion with Harriet, Silas, and Newton. Mom would be there, and so would Winston, Vivian, and Tinsley too.
Yet again, I didn’t want to go.
Yet again, I had to.
I got dressed up, fresh under a new round of makeup. I styled my hair so it looked decent and put on some jeans and pumps. Casual. At least it could be casual.
I shouldn’t have done it, but I did, as a safety net. I slipped more coke into the lining of my clutch where I always kept it safe, even though I cursed myself for doing it.
