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“What do you want, Ashton?”
“Ouch.” He laughs, but it’s strained.
“We’re not friends.”
“No, I guess we’re not. I just thought you might—do you know what, forget it. Enjoy the party, Mia.” He drains his beer, slams it down, and melts into the crowd.
I feel a bolt of guilt, but he doesn’t deserve it. Just because he helped me once doesn’t make him a hero. It doesn’t even make him a good person. Grabbing my glass, I down the remainder and hold it up for the bartender to refill. I don’t intend on getting drunk, but I need something to take the edge off, and since Sasha is under strict instructions not to give me any more pills, this is the next best thing.
The bartender slides another glass toward me, and I make a promise to myself not to down it in one, no matter how tempting it is.
* * *
The party drags on. Bexley has been talking to Phillip and his associates for at least forty-five minutes while I watch from our table, nursing my third glass of wine. A warm buzz runs through me, making things almost bearable as I watch Sasha and Channing dance. They look so good together, so natural as he twirls her around the dance floor. My heart aches. Bexley and I had that. We had it, and then it was ripped away from us.
Brandon is grinding on some girl I don’t recognize. Their bodies are impossibly close, and I’m pretty sure he has his hand up her dress. I shake my head, a small part of me wishing I could have his attitude to everything.
A server passes with a tray of champagne, and I swipe another glass. I like the way the bubbles fizz and pop as they sluice down my throat and settle in my stomach.
“Miss Thompson,” a gruff voice says, and I glance up to find Marcus Easton staring down at me. “May I?”
I motion to the empty chair beside me, and he sits, smoothing his pants down.
“How are you?”
“How do you think?”
“I know I have given you no reason to trust me or even like me, but with Cade gone—"
“Gone?” I snap, hoping he can see the anger in my eyes. “Do you really believe that? Cade isn’t gone… he’s just biding his time. He killed them.” The words shred my insides. “He killed my parents and left me for dead, and you dare to sit there pretending…” An ugly sob crawls up my throat, but I swallow it down, taking another sip of champagne.
“Mia, we didn’t know. If we had, we would never have—"
“Don’t.” An icy shudder runs through me. “Don’t sit there and lie to my face. You handed me over like a lamb to the slaughter. You did that. And that’s something you’re just going to have to live with Mr. Easton. Now if you’ll excuse me,” I stand, draining my glass, “my friends are waiting for me.”
They’re not, but he doesn’t need to know that as I weave around the tables to the dance floor. Another server passes, and I grab yet another glass.
How dare he? How dare Marcus pretend like he feels guilt over anything that has happened? As if they aren’t the puppet masters pulling the strings here. Cade isn’t gone. If they truly believe that then they’re all more deluded than I first thought.
“There you are.” Sasha pulls me into her arms, a sloppy grin on her face.
“You’re high,” I say, surprised by the flash of jealousy cinching my chest.
“High on love.” She buries her face into my shoulder, smothering her laughter.
“Is she okay?” I ask Channing, and he rubs his jaw.
“I wish she’d quit that shit.”
“But you love me.” Sasha lifts her head and glances over at him. “You love me, Rexford.”
His eyes burn into her, hot and hungry.
“Uh-oh,” she whispers. “I think I’m in trouble. I’m going to pee. You’ll be okay?”
“I… uh…” But she takes off, disappearing into the swarm of people dancing.
“Wait here with Brandon and Tim,” Channing barks, taking off after her.
