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All he wanted to do was see her, make sure she was okay. Her leaving him made no sense, but if she didn’t want him anymore, he’d fucking deal. He wouldn’t like it—scratch that, he would frigging hate it—but he’d never stop trying to win her back. Ever. Not to possess or control her, but because he loved her more than his own life. They just fit. He couldn’t see his world without her in it.
Tonight had driven that point home spectacularly.
A waiter with a tray of champagne bumped into him, shaking him out of his inertia as he waited for Donovan’s text. He moved forward blindly, sidestepping people, circling tables, trying to tamp down on his need to shove people out of his way. The band’s table wasn’t far from where he was, but it might as well have been miles away. He glanced toward the chaos onstage, barely aware that The Grunge was performing, his feet moving toward Donovan by rote.
A shimmer of green caught his eye near the side of the stage. In the back, by the curtains. Barely a flash.
He blinked, rubbing his eyes. Now he was hallucinating. He was so desperate to make her materialize that he was imagining she was there, and it was just a gorgeous brunette in a green dress.
A long, sparkly green dress that maybe, possibly, could be Denver’s.
Without hesitation, he rerouted toward the stage. He might be seeing things, but it didn’t matter. If there was even the slightest chance that she’d somehow found her way back to him, he had to go to her.
Hope was all he had left.
Chapter Twenty-Two
She peeked out from the side of the stage where dancers tumbled and swirled and the lights twirled in a manic blend of colors. She scanned the sea of faces to find Ryan’s table.
Her heart was still racing from her run through the lobby and past the guard. Hell, it had been racing since she’d put down her pen after Marco made her write that bullshit letter.
He’d led her downstairs, presumably to the exits, but she’d broken free and zipped into the Event Center. Thank God the guard had been distracted by Cyndi Lauper’s wardrobe malfunction. It had given her just enough time to get backstage and out of Marco’s crosshairs.
Now all she had to do was worry about Ryan. And hope he forgave her for that truly hideous note.
She fisted her hands and edged her way closer to the stage as the lights and guitars pulsed and soared. The Grunge.
The familiar gravelly flavor of Luc Moreau’s voice triggered a memory. Ryan’s award was next. God. She peeked out as the music faded. Little bowls of candlelight glowed in the darkness. Centerpieces on each table illuminated faces, but it was too dark for her to see anyone clearly.
Denver swiveled her head around.
Whisky burned her nostrils. Marco always smelled like whisky and expensive cologne. It had been alluring at first, but now it made her stomach roil. It was as if she couldn’t get it out of her lungs and nostrils.
Was he behind her? Was that why she could still smell him?
She couldn’t wipe away the oily residue of his hands on her. There weren’t enough showers in the world to scrub him away tonight.
But no, it was just her jumping at shadows. No Marco. Just the men and women in dark clothing policing the edges of the stage. They ushered people in glittery gowns to interviews, and others to their markers to go onstage.
Little pieces of tape glowed on the floor. An idea formed. She squashed it until The Grunge came offstage and chaos collided with laughter and backslapping. The idea got louder and warred with her need to protect everyone she loved.
But she was tired of running.
Tired of being the one who cowered under Marco’s boot.
No matter what he said about Ryan’s gambling, she wouldn’t believe she was making a mistake. He was it for her. The one who had made her believe that love was possible after all she’d seen.
She wasn’t ready to let that go.
She slipped between the bustling staff, trying to stay out of the way, but within the crush of people where she was safe. She bumped into a reporter with shrewd blue eyes.
Please don’t notice me. Please.
Denver made her way back around to the voices and lights. She forced herself to come out of the darkness. Away from the places where Marco would be able to suck her into the shadows again.
She wouldn’t go quietly.
Never again.
