I try to issue her a genuine smile, but my heart isn’t into it. Not yet. It’s still struggling to piece itself back together after it was shattered into a million pieces last month. I thought I missed Rico the days following our Vegas quickie wedding, but it's nothing compared to my yearning for him the past month. My heart is barely functioning, it’s been so distraught. Like all people in mourning, my emotions have been put through the wringer. First, I couldn’t stop crying. Then, I got angry, not just at Rico, but also at myself for not being strong enough to pull him out of the darkness. Now, I’m carefully wading through the final stage of my grief: acceptance.
Being totally honest, I only reached the acceptance stage half an hour ago. It’s been such a longwinded process as my heart is trapped between a rock and a hard place. Half of it's yearning for Rico, where the other half is stuck in debilitating confusion. My heart was certain it knew the real Rico—the man behind the veil he wore in front of others. But when news of Oskana’s death circulated every news channel in the country the days following my return to Ravenshoe, my heart began to wonder if it was duped by Rico’s charm just as badly as my astute brain. Did I misread him completely? Or is he more cunning than I ever predicted?
When I first arrived home, I vowed to keep myself occupied so I wouldn’t stew over every nanosecond of the two weeks prior to our disastrous dinner date, searching for clues on where it had all gone so terribly wrong. But with Mr. Rodchester refusing to let me return to my teaching job until after the stipulated time Rico’s men requested, I had no choice but to evaluate every second I spent with Rico. Even after weeks of deliberation, I'm genuinely at a loss as to what happened.
The Rico who risked his life to save me ten years ago wasn’t the same Rico I was torn away from last month. I know he can switch from night to day with a flick of his fingers, but I thought the days we spent together changed him. He felt responsible for my attack, but I truly thought we’d moved past that. I thought it made us stronger as a couple. Obviously, I was wrong.
Lacey slings her arm around my shoulders and draws me in close to her side. “Come on, Blaire, just one night with no tears,” she murmurs against my temple.
I nuzzle into her neck and inhale a large breath of her freshly washed hair. Lacey has been my savior the past month. Understandably, I arrived home a blubbering mess. Lacey said nothing. No reprimand, no lecture on my stupidity, she just held me while I cried until I had no more tears left to shed.
Most people don’t understand the unique bond Rico and I formed in the two weeks we were together. They don’t believe such a strong relationship could be achieved in a matter of days. I normally would have agreed with them. Until I met Rico. He has proven time and time again what I think I know isn’t always the case. He made me see the bigger picture. At times, it was beautiful. Other times, it was hideously ugly. That night in the restaurant was a combination of them both.
I’ve encountered a riot of emotions the past month. It’s been a truly challenging time, both physically and mentally. But Lacey is determined to guide me through the tumultuous storm battering my life. She’s so strong-willed, she has forced me out of holey, food-stained pajamas for the first time in a month.
After ordering my heart into lockdown, I lift the martini glass to my mouth. My sole focus tonight is to push myself out of survival mode. Because as much as it kills me to admit this, Lacey is right. I need to start living again. I need to move onto the next stage of my life.
That would be a whole lot easier to do if I didn’t have so many unanswered questions.
I chug down the entire martini in one hit, more than eager to get our girls night off to a raring start. Lacey arches her brow and eyes me curiously when I help myself to a second serving of the delicious drink.
“Taxi?” she queries with raised brows.
The smile I award her with this time is genuine. Normally, I’m the designated driver for our monthly dance-like-the-floor-is-on-fire get togethers, but tonight, I need to let my hair down. I’m not saying I’m planning to get drunk, I just don’t need to stress about whether two martinis would put me over the legal limit to drive.
It’slucky Lacey called a taxi.
Even with most of the alcohol in my system being pumped out onto the dance floor, there's no doubt I'm intoxicated. My words are slurred, my skin is a sticky mess, and I feel the most carefree I’ve been the past month. If I’d known alcohol was the cure for the world’s worst heartache, I would have started drinking the instant Erik dumped me onto the very plane that delivered Rico and me to Vegas only two weeks earlier. I don’t know if that private jet is Popov owned, but it was a cruel joke on a demented and twisted day.
Lifting my sweat-drenched hair off my neckline, I close my eyes and let the music overtake my body. There are attractive men as far as the eye can see, but I’m not interested. I’m here solely to wash away what’s been one of the worst months of my life using nothing but great music and the vibrancy of a bustling environment.
Over the course of the next forty minutes, that's exactly what I do. The pain inside my heart is still there, it just isn’t as paramount as it is when I’m lying in bed with nothing but time on my hands.
Several songs later, the hairs on my arm prickle to attention. I flutter open my eyes and swing them around the space. It takes three long blinks for my eyes to adjust to the blinding strobe lights bouncing around the decadent space. A smile curls on my lips when my heavy-lidded eyes absorb the area surrounding me. There's nothing as captivating as a group of cheerful faces having an enjoyable time. Well, except one thing. Nothing in the world is as captivating as Rico’s beautiful dark eyes.
When the song pumping out of the speakers switches from a heart-thumping beat to a slow and steady pace, I head to the bar. On my way, I spot Lacey on my left, grinding her backside on a handsome dark-haired gentleman. Sensing my snooping stare, her dilated eyes lift to me. I flash her a smirk, grateful I succumbed to her relentless nagging the past six days. She was right, dancing won’t cure my heartache, but it's a great way to relieve tension.
When Lacey cocks her brow in silent questioning, I gesture that I’m going to grab a bottle of water. I wait for her to nod her head before continuing with my endeavor. The smell of sweat on heated skin lingers in my nose as I weave in and out of the densely populated dance floor. With the popularity of the club and it being a Saturday night, the floor space is crowded with sweaty patrons.
Just as my flat-soled sandal steps off the mahogany floor, my long strides freeze, closely followed by the beat of my heart. Although it was quick, I swear I saw a profile a thousand whiskeys couldn’t erase from my mind.Rico.
Snubbing the twinge of pain hitting the middle of my chest, I push through the throng of sweaty bodies in the direction I saw him. When I hit the end of the bar I swore he was standing at, I stretch onto my tippy toes and swing my head to the right before slowly drifting it to the left. The sweat slicking my skin amplifies when I spot a flurry of black ducking down the hallway where the restrooms are. Adrenaline surges my heart rate to a never before reached level.
The blaring music booming out of the speakers dulls to a hum when I enter the hallway. Due to the club being at capacity, the hall is lined with patrons waiting to use the restroom. After wiping my sweaty hands on my skirt, I pace further down the hall. Once I’ve walked past the long lines, the vibrancy in the air shifts. My heart is still pumping, but it's more from fear than exhilaration.
I barely hold in a swear word when a clearly intoxicated couple stumbles out of a supply closet. They giggle loudly while smoothing their crumpled clothing. My wide-eyed expression watches them as they stagger down the hall. Once they become lost in the crowd, I gather my heart off the floor and continue with my endeavor. I could be completely off the mark, but I’m operating purely on instincts, allowing my intuition about Rico’s presence to guide my steps.
The further I saunter down the hall, the greater my perception of Rico grows. Just as I take a sharp left at the end, my wrists are seized, and I’m yanked into a hidden nook on my right. The window-shattering squeal rumbling up my chest is suffocated by a hand when it splays over my mouth. I suck in deep breaths as I fight through a torrent of emotions bombarding me at once. Joy. Despair. Hope. It all smacks into me.
The tightness spreading across my chest weakens when I lift and lock my frightened gaze with a pair of eyes I recognize: Colt.
“Jeez, Colt, you scared the living…hellout of me,” I breathe out heavily when he removes his hand from my mouth. He scared me so badly, the curse word screaming through my head nearly came out of my mouth.
The regret in his eyes grows. “Sorry, baby girl. I thought you saw me.” He glances into my eyes curiously. “You were following me down here, weren’t you?” Add his slurred words to the scent of alcohol on his breath, and it appears I’m not the only one who’s been drinking tonight.
“No. I thought I saw someone I knew.”
I lean out of the nook and peer down the corridor. The hope thickening my blood thins. Other than a fire exit door at the end, the hallway is empty.
