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“Agreed,” Charlie said, jumping on the cheer-up-Allie train. “So, when are you going to let him whisk you off on a glamorous vacation? Date number ten?”
My laugh was less forced this time. Warmth flooded my chest, and the iron bands constricting my lungs loosened. “He suggested date number five. But we haven’t even kissed, you guys.”
“Excuse me?” Isabel asked, sounding almost indignant. “You’re dating the hottest billionaire in New York, and you haven’t kissed him yet? I would’ve climbed him like a tree by now.”
I ducked my head. “You know I’m not that experienced with men. I’m taking things slow.”
Even as I said the words, I remembered the heat of Max’s big hands roving over my body, caressing my most intimate places as though he wanted to brand every inch of me with his touch. My flesh tingled at the phantom feel of his calloused fingertips brushing over my tender flesh, lighting up my body with sensation I hadn’t known was possible. He’d imprinted himself on my skin, the first man to touch me like he owned me.
My chest ached with a throbbing beat, and I sucked in a small gasp at the sudden shock of pain.
“Okay, forget the popcorn,” Isabel announced in her most protective big-sister voice. “Allie, we’re taking you home. I think we need fuzzy blankets and a Disney film. And more pinot.”
“Totally,” Charlie agreed as Davis flagged down our server again, cancelling the order and asking for the check.
“Thanks,” I murmured, but even my love for my friends couldn’t loosen the tension around my lungs. “Um, I’m going to get some air. Meet you outside in a few? I’ll reimburse you for my part of the check.”
“Want me to come with?” Charlie offered.
“No, that’s okay. I just need a minute.” I couldn’t let my friends see me crumble. If they kept asking me about Max, I didn’t know how I’d manage to maintain my composure. And I couldn’t tell them the awful truth.
I slid off my seat and made my way to the exit, the room wavering around the edges of my watery vision. Somehow, I made it outside without completely breaking down. I gulped in a humid lungful of summer air, and the heat of the night singed my strangely chilled skin. I hugged my arms around myself, staving off a shiver.
I gritted my teeth, seeking a spark of anger to distract myself from the painful wound Max had inflicted. He’d touched me in ways I’d never allowed another man to touch me; he’d held me like I was something precious and fragile.
And I’d trusted him to keep me safe. He’d protected me so many times, and I’d foolishly made excuses for his criminal background. I should’ve known better. He’d told me over and over that I was naïve, but I’d been too proud to believe him.
But then his terrible sister had shown up outside my house. She’d subtly threatened Max and me. Everything had become very real in that moment.
Max had left with her, and he’d promised to come back to me. I’d believed he was protecting me yet again from a world I didn’t fully understand.
When he had returned, he’d hurt me in ways I never could’ve imagined. His family had said or done something to him that made him end things with me. I knew that, but it didn’t make the hurt go away. It didn’t ease the deep wound he’d inflicted.
“Hey, Alexandra.” I stiffened at the unfamiliar, masculine voice behind me.
I quickly wiped the tears from my cheeks and plastered on my poised mask that I usually wore at my dad’s political events. If this person knew my name, they must recognize me as Ron Fitzgerald’s daughter. Probably because of those stupid articles in the Times.
Hiding the fact that I was crumbling inside, I turned to face the man with a genial smile. Dread was a lead weight in my gut, but I couldn’t do anything that might reflect badly on my dad.
I instantly recognized the man who’d taken pictures of me from across the bar, and my stomach dropped. My smile wavered slightly, but I managed to catch it and force it back into place. I was deeply uncomfortable with the fact that he’d been snapping photos of me like I was someone to gawk at, but I had to be polite. My dad’s public image was at stake, and I wouldn’t do anything to tarnish it.
The man’s eyes crinkled at the corners, the fine lines indicating that he was at least a decade older than me. The streetlights shone dully on his shaved head as he tipped his chin back on a cocky grin.
“I knew it was you,” he said, a note of excitement in his deep voice. “Can I get a pic with you?” He lifted his phone, ready to take yet another embarrassing photo of me.
