Shit. Shit. Shit.This shouldn’t be that big of a deal. I’m a grown adult. I should be able to get off a fucking table and walk across a club.Dammit.The problem is that I know what is expected of me.
I was told to stay up here and dance. Doing anything but that makes me disobedient, something that isn’t tolerated in my household. To make matters worse, my father would say my disobedience put my life at risk. Not that I think I’m in any real danger here. But both Maxim and my papá would see it differently.
Reckless. Stupid. That’s what they’d say my actions were.
I can’t risk it. Resignation settles like a heavy weight across my shoulders and bitterness coats my tongue. I hate that I have to worry about insignificant bullshit like this. Why should I be made to suffer through an evening with my inebriated fiancé and a drive home that is hazardous at best?
Closing my eyes, I exhale a harsh breath, keeping up the lazy sway of my hips while wishing my life were anything but this.
You just have to get through six more months.
A calloused hand slides up my bare calf and I snap my eyes open, jerking away from the unexpected and definitely unwelcome touch. I stumble in my heels, losing my balance and flailing my arms in windmill motions through the air to keep from falling to the ground. I bump into Jill beside me, who thankfully steadies me with a hand on my shoulder before offering me a grin and sashaying closer, mistaking my stumble for me having a change of heart about dancing with her to rile up the surrounding men.
That’s still going to be a no for me.
“Thanks for the save,” I shout over the music and step back, closer to the table's center.
Her smile dims, but she shrugs before hopping down and picking up a conversation with some guy I assume she’s met before. Scanning the people closest to me, I search out whoever it was that touched me, but no one stands out as the obvious culprit, and Maxim is still seated in his booth.
If it wasn’t Maxim—?
I bite my lower lip. Well, whoever it was, he’s not the first jerk to try and cop a feel. I’m sure he won’t be the last.
Setting my frustration aside, I try not to let it get to me and decide to stick to the center of the table where I’m a little harder to reach.
Not wanting anyone to see me shaken, I continue dancing; the song switching from a hypnotic thrum to a sultry beat. I find my rhythm once again and halfway through the song, I start to relax. Maybe whoever it was tripped and accidentally touched me when they reached out to steady themselves?
That must be—
An unwelcome hand wraps around my calf, this time gripping my flesh in a firm hold instead of grazing it.
This time, I don’t jerk away. In my peripheral, I see Maxim shove up from his seat. How chivalrous.
An involuntary snort escapes me.
Not needing Maxim of all people to defend me, I ready a glare, preparing to lay into whatever asshole it is that's daring to touch me, and look down.
Two familiar pools of amber meet mine. Eyes such a unique shade of brown that after he walked away from me five years ago, ripping my heart clean from my chest in the process, I knew I’d never see eyes like his again.
Not unless he decided to come back. And here he is.
For several seconds, it’s like the world stops moving. The music and the crowd fall away and all I see is him. I’ve caught glimpses of Andres over the years on the news or in the papers, but none of it prepared me for what seeing him up close again would feel like.
My words freeze in my throat.
This can’t be real—
Longing flares deep in my chest, but that flicker of emotion is swiftly consumed by other, stronger ones. Anger. Resentment. Rage. They smother any feelings I ever had for the man standing before me now and help me recover my voice in the face of his audacity.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I bite out, my entire body stiffening. “Déjame,” I snap.Leave me alone.
Andres DeAnde is the last man I want to see tonight. He’s the last man I want to see if it is my last day on this earth.
I hate him. With every fiber of my being I hate him. After everything he’s done to me—What is he doing here? And better yet, why the hell is he still touching me?
Unperturbed by my reaction, his hand slides higher up my leg, his thumb brushing dangerously close to the thin material of my panties.
I bare my teeth at him.
