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“I’m fine,” I whisper and then clear my throat.
“You look sad that I left you.”
I lie. “I was.”
His shoulders rise with a pride and wanting I’ve seen from him before. He leans in close to whisper in my ear. “I guess I shouldn’t leave you alone again then.”
Alone.
Zander’s so far away that he left me alone.
My heart tinks.
“I need some fresh air.” The air in this covered patio isn’t enough for me. It’s too warm and too full of other people. On one end of the bar there’s space. The gap between the bar and the railing is so narrow here that the bartenders can’t fit on this side. Oh—one of those L-shaped bars. I see it now.
“Remember how we used to let it all go?” I ask him, eyeing the edge of the railing.
John grins and asks, “You want to?”
I only nod, feeling my heart race.
It was a different time and for different reasons. But right now, it’s all I want to do. Let it all go.
John helps me hoist myself up on the other side, abandoning the shot glass I’ve been holding, and stand up.
I’m so hot, and I can’t be hot anymore.
“You ready?” he asks at the same time that I hear Zander shout out. As I close my eyes, he’s there, staring from so far away.
All it takes is two steps.
One step to the edge of the bar. The next step to the railing.
Two steps. One jump, and I’m sailing through the air, off the side of the railing, going down fast.
Zander
“Ella!”
She disappears.
Drops out of view.
One second she’s there, the next she’s gone, and I lose my mind. I don’t know who it is that I shove out of the way. One guest, maybe two, and then the bartender.
“The fuck are you?” some prick questions as I fist his shirt and shove him back. He’s the one who helped her up, some asshole she decided to punish me with.
No one’s screaming around me. The air isn’t filled with terror. They’re cheering. Pure delight electrifies the air.
My heart is in my throat, caught there along with my voice.
I can already see the blood when I reach the bar and hurtle around. My legs slam into the railing on the side of the balcony. My hips connect. I lean out over the drop—I have to see if she’s still alive, and …
It’s a pool.
There’s a pool down below. Ella floats in the middle of the pool, kicking her feet and pushing her soaked hair back from her face.
My beating terror screams itself into anger.
“It’s a fucking pool, man.” The asshole who helped her up dares to fucking speak to me.
Gripping his collar with both of my hands, I look the son of a bitch in the eye and warn him, “If you ever touch her again, it’ll be the last thing you do.”
What the hell was she thinking? My hands shake as I storm my way down, ignoring the gasps and onlookers.
I was already counting the ways I’d redden her ass. I was already cursing myself for taking it too easy on her. For not being more forceful. I’d let her push and throw her tantrum. I’d let her get it out of her system and when we got back home … I’d show her who she belonged to.
If she wants me to say it, I’ll fucking say it. I want her, I need her. I have love for her that I don’t anyone else. I can’t lose her. Yes. I’ll tell her I love her.
My blood rushes in my ears. My hands fisted and every muscle in my body is coiled.
I let her get away with too much all because I was waiting on Damon or Cade to get their asses here. Why the fuck did I listen to Silas and wait for The Firm?
She’s mine. She misbehaved. I’ll be damned if I let this situation get in the way again.
Taking the stairs as fast as my feet will carry me, not a single thought in my mind is spared for anyone else at this hellish party. Not one. All I care about is getting to Ella. I need to secure her safety, I need to get her out of here, and I need to punish her for what she’s done. I need to make her understand what she’s done to me.
It’s cold out by the pool, with heat from the water rising into the air.
And I’m not the first one to arrive.
I don’t know how the hell that fucker got here, but there he is, helping her climb out of the pool and laughing. Peering up at the house, I see an iron spiral staircase down just on the other side where the bar was.
The two of them laugh like this is funny, like my heart hasn’t been ripped out of my chest and beaten. They’re a pretty match like that. A young couple, in each other’s arms, pretending that life is a joke. One of them hasn’t been wounded. One of them doesn’t feel like a madman.
