But tonight my feet had a mind of their own. Despite the pain in my throbbing skull, the music was electric, flowing through my body like fire, my head as light as a feather. Passing the bartender, I plucked one of the expensive drinks off the VIP tray before sipping, stumbling and nodding to the beat of the music. I was growing hotter, my mind buzzing louder than I wanted it to.
God, Camila. Put the drink down and get some air.
I pushed through the crowd, hips bumping strangers, my heels wobbling like newborn deer legs.
I’d almost made it to the side entrance. Freedom and fresh air was on the horizon. Then the room shifted again, and my body followed.
Shit. No, no, no—I stumbled, tried to correct, stepped too hard—and slammed my drink right into a man standing at the nearest VIP table.
Half the liquid dumped all over him.
The other half splashed back on my chest. I glared up at him, or at least drunk me’s version of a glare as he stared down at me, his eyes dark, but the twinkle in them and slight hint of a smirk telling me he found this amusing.
“Cabrón,”I muttered, my vision clearing just enough to make out the features of man standing over me. An unbuttoned suit that stretched over muscle. Expensive watch glinting and blinding. Tattoo ink peeking up from his collar. Dark, assessing eyes that took in everything at once. I sidestepped him.
Trying to get past when my hand came to my mouth, my body doubling over as I threw up again… and not just on the floor… it was a pair of shoes. A pair of very expensive Italian shoes that I recognized from a few assholes my father used to introduce me to at his business parties. My eyes hazily glanced up to see… the same guy from before? Only this one seemed ten times angrier. Was I seeing double?
I stood as best as I could, stumbling when I felt someone steady me from behind.
“Easy there,” someone said behind me, a dark voice by my ear coming out with an Irish twang.
Hell no.I’d had enough with these Irish men making my life a living hell.
“Suéltenme,” I slurred, only realizing drunk me was speaking solely in Spanish this entire time. “Let go of me,” I said harder, trying to push off his hands, but he wasn’t budging.
“Flynn, this one’s a fire cracker,” he chuckled from behind me.
The man glaring at me didn’t say a word. He wasn’t finding this all too amusing, not like his double was. I tried to blink my eyes, willing one of them to disappear and bring me back to reality…that must’ve been some exceptional weed I smoked.
The grip on my waist tightened, pausing my attempts at escape. “You’re done for the night,” he said.
I scoffed, pushing him away fully as I turned to look him square in the face again. Who the hell did he think he was?
“Like I said. Get your hands off me.”
His gaze directly bypassed me, landing on the other hallucination sitting at the booth.
“Can we keep her?” he asked. “She’s got a little fight to her… You know how much I love a challenge.”
“No,” I responded for him, walking off before a hand grabbed mine. The happy clone held my wrist, pulling me over with a shit-eating grin.
“And where do you think you’re going, princess?” he asked, and maybe it was drunk me awakening horny me… but this man was annoyingly attractive. Tall, overbearing, handsome, charming… everything I had to stay away from.
“Let her go, Finny,” the broody one said in his chair, but Shits-and-Giggles shook his head.
“But she’s cute.”
“Cute?” I repeated, blinking like the word was in another language. Nobody…nobodyhad ever called me cute. Pretty, sure. Hot, sometimes. A bitch, always.Cutewas a new insult.
His grin widened. “Aye. Cute. Like a kitten that’ll scratch your face off.”
I tugged my wrist again. He didn’t let go.
“Let. Me. Go.” I jabbed a finger into his chest for emphasis, except it landed more like a weak poke because my balance was absolute shit.Smooth, Camila. Real intimidating.
The broody one finally stood from the booth.
Up close, he was worse—broad shoulders, a sharp jaw cut from stone, dark hair pushed back like he didn’t have a single soft bone in his body. Same eyes, same nose… same, well, everything as the man holding me, but colder.
