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A hostess flutters over. “Good evening.” She looks at a clipboard on the counter. “Do you have a reservation?”
The place is packed, every table occupied. The chatter is loud, pierced by occasional laughter. I don’t even want to think about how much money Alex forked out to make sure it was empty for us.
“Ma’am?” the hostess says, impatience slipping into her tone.
I open my mouth to tell her I just wanted to have a look when I spot him.
Alex.
He’s sitting at one of the big tables close to the stage with three other men and a dark-haired beauty pressed against his side.
10
I nearly choke on my shock. My words fall to the wayside as I take in the scene. Alex’s dark hair shines under the lights. He lowers his head to say something to the woman, and she laughs.
I go hot and cold, a sick feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. Betrayal. That’s what it feels like, even though it doesn’t make any sense. He owes me nothing. I’m the one who ran away.
Well, at least that explains why he didn’t contact me.
As though sensing my stare, he turns his head. Our gazes collide over the distance. The smile vanishes from his face. Something else replaces his jovial expression—something calculated, something darker.
Humiliation drenches me. Now he’ll think I’m stalking him.
“Ma’am,” the hostess says, her pitch persistent now.
I break my stare-off with Alex to look at her.
She’s watching me with irritation. “Are you meeting friends?”
“N-no,” I stammer, backtracking to the door. “I was just… looking.”
She wrinkles her nose and looks me up and down as if I were a beggar who came inside to drool over the food sitting on the tables in front of the people in their fancy clothes.
And the clothes are fancy. The women are dressed in evening dresses and the men in suits. I glance down at my attire, the very same clothes I wore the night Alex brought me here, like I’m so poor I don’t own a different outfit.
A movement at the stage draws my attention. Alex has gotten to his feet. Tall and broad, he stands out in the crowd. He’s dressed in a tuxedo, the black jacket stretching over his shoulders. The three men at his table turn toward me with frowns. He says something to the woman, who looks in my direction. She’s wearing a black dress with diamante detail on the shoulders. Still, I can only stand there, frozen in place under their scrutiny.
“If you don’t have a reservation, I have to ask you to leave,” the hostess says.
I tear my eyes away from Alex to meet her hostile gaze again. Life flows back into my limbs as the shock turns into nausea. Clutching a hand to my stomach, I say, “I’m going.”
I don’t look back at the table in front of the stage or the five pairs of eyes fixed with curious animosity on me. I spin around and leave, slamming a palm on the door and stumbling into the frosty night.
My heartbeat is a dull thumping in my chest. I must look like a fool. A total idiot. I glance around me like I’m lost, like I haven’t seen or walked this pavement before. Needing to get away, I break into a run. I don’t care in which direction I’m going, as long as Alex doesn’t come outside and find me here. As long as we don’t stand face to face, I can pretend this experience never happened. I can pretend I didn’t just come across as a lovesick, mentally unstable person stalking her one-night stand.
The air burns in my lungs. My heels clack loudly on the pavement as I turn the corner just before a deep, low male voice calls my name.
Shit. He followed me outside.
Blindly, I run down the dark side street under scaffolding, pumping my arms in an effort to outrun the steps falling hard on the concrete behind me. They’re so close he must’ve teleported. There’s no way he should’ve caught up with me so fast. I cut the corner, slipping in my haste, and barely regain my balance before I sprint down the block.
All the while, the steps echo closer. He’s not even running flat out. It sounds as if he’s barely putting effort into it. I duck around the next corner, heading into a narrow street with a service door. Trashcans are lined up against the wall. An odor of fermented food hangs in the air. The passage is dark, and it’s a dead end. A brick wall faces me.
I curse and swing around, bumping into a hard chest. For a second, I’m off balance, and before I’ve found my footing, a large hand curls around my neck and slams my back against the wall. My head hits the bricks with a thud. Pain explodes in my skull, and stars pop behind my eyes. When I open my mouth to scream, a meaty palm slams over it.
