Page 9

I snatch the notepad back and tip my fingers from my chin. ‘Thank you.’ I try to mean it. None of this is her fault. Eissa is the one who wham, bam, thank you ma’amed me. He’s the one who allowed me to break his rule, who left me wanting more.

Who left me feeling like there’s an empty space inside of me in the shape of him.

Which is not something I should be feeling over a single one-night stand. And that makes me even angrier. And not because I’m actually angry, but because I’m hurt.

For a moment—for a single moment last night—I thought I was more. I thought I wasn’t some experiment or a walking curiosity. I thought maybe he wanted me for me.

That he meant it when he said I was beautiful.

That the way he touched me after giving me that rule meant something more.

That I was more.

Walking past the buffet, I see several groups of people from the convention, one hand signing, the other shoveling food into their faces. It’s not as much of a comfort as it was before, thanks to Eissa.

But I force myself to take a breath. I’m catastrophizing again. I’m assuming the worst.

Maybe he didn’t leave me on purpose. Maybe he tried to wake me. Maybe he left me a quiet, soft kiss on my temple before an emergency took him away.

I can’t let myself assume that I mean nothing to every person who touches me the way Eissa touched me. And hell, I live near a major portal, so there might be a chance I’ll see him again.

And if I do—no, when I do—I will ask him if that night meant anything at all to him.

Because right now, it feels like it means everything to me.

three

LUCA

I have zero desire to attend the expo today, but I need to. I have dick cookies to sell and products to push. Usually I love doing this. I love how useful it makes me feel, and I’m damn good at it. And more than that, I love how much it helps Dante.

And he deserves the world.

But today feels more exhausting than usual. There’s a continuous push and pull on my attention, and my eyes keep wandering around the large space, looking for the regal Vyastil who sucked me off twice last night.

Who made me feel alive…

Then left me like I meant nothing.

I hate that I let this happen to me again. That I allowed myself to be vulnerable. That I allowed myself to want.

I fucked up, which is something I’m quite good at. A master, really. But it doesn’t change the heaviness I carry around with me all day as the expo comes to an end. I don’t really know what I’d say or do if I saw Eissa again, but I keep fantasizing about it.

Maybe he’d corner me in some alcove and shove his clawed hand down my pants and make me cum. Maybe he’d appear at my table with a look of sorrow on his face and an apology on his hands for how the night ended.

Maybe he’d show up with absolute regret and beg me to give him another chance.

None of those things happen.

By the time the event is over and I’ve packed everything up, there’s not even a whisper of the Vyastil group at the casino. He’s like a ghost. Or worse. It’s like he never existed in the first place.

By the end of the afternoon, I’ve declined several offers to go out with friends. I have zero desire to talk with anyone, and along with my emotions, my body is aching and exhausted. I just want to walk along the Strip, drink a Yardie, and disappear into the crowd to look at the lights flashing around me.

This whole thing is both humbling and grounding, and I think a bit of time with both my own silence and some solitude is what I need.

I give myself an hour in my hotel room to shower and change clothes so I don’t smell like that faint boozy casino-floor smell, then I head out and take a right.

There’s a liquor kiosk that sells shots in a test tube, and I hold up one finger to the tired-looking man behind the counter. He doesn’t attempt to make me speak. He swipes my card, hands it over, and doesn’t watch as I tip the whole thing down.