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I wanted to make her hurt, and it was the only thing tangible at that moment. I had no idea the product was bad.
I’m a horrible person.
I take a gulp of the wine, wishing I ordered the scotch instead.
Sadly, this is only the most current of the shitty things I’ve done. My temper and stubbornness get the best of me. Or my heart. An annoyed scoff escapes my throat at that thought.
Flashbacks of my oldest sister’s wedding come to mind, when I announced I loved her soon-to-be husband—on their wedding day, in the church. I thought I loved him. The point is moot now, because he’s dead. But it reminds me of just how shitty of a person I am. All the more reason to leave my life behind and start fresh. With me gone, my family would be free of the burden that is me.
I watch the man out the corner of my eye. He has this flare of a presence that commands attention. I like that he’s not in a full three-piece suit. Those things remind me too much of home. They speak of men who pretend to have power.
This one possesses confidence that radiates and would intimidate an average person. I can’t help but be drawn to it, even though I should swear off all men. I plan to. After all, I’m the one who has to make a change and stop allowing my feelings to lead me in wrong directions.
It’s ironic that all I want is to be loved. And the “love” I always think I feel is actually this dark cloud that rains pain down over me. It follows me no matter where I go.
I’m a mess.
Get yourself together.You are Katrina fucking Rossi.
The man stands, and I tilt my body away to where I can’t see him. This would be a great time to stand and make introductions, but I’m still arguing with myself. I can’t bring myself to make the first contact. It feels wrong, yet the zap of adrenaline is worth the chase.
“Can I buy you another drink?” a deep, masculine voice asks.
My heart doesn’t even speed up at hearing it.
Disappointing.
That’s because you’re an addict of falling in love, and now you’re jaded.
It’s that first, gut-clenching feeling that I keep chasing.
I turn and smile, hoping maybe I can force it. My lips slip downward before I catch them and force them up again.
It’s not the man I was watching. This one has on a Rolex watch—probably fake—a slight indent on his ring finger, and he’s drinking wine. At least it’s red. He’s handsome, his smile inviting and charming. I have no doubt he doesn’t do much chasing after anyone.
“I can buy my own drinks. But thank you for the offer.” I turn my body away.
He steps close to me, our arms now touching. He’s taking my brush-off as a game of cat-and-mouse, but I don’t play games.
“I respect that. Mind if I take this seat?” He’s already pulling out the tall stool beside me.
“Is your wife meeting you for drinks? Or do you regularly cheat on her?” There’s nothing I hate more than a dishonest man.
He pauses, and I look expectantly at him. He doesn’t know what to do. I push my wine away, hating the acid-like taste.
“Scotch on the rocks,” I announce to the bartender on the other side of the bar. He nods as he continues working, and the man leaves his seat and moves to the other side of the bar to talk to another woman.
Demetri
Throughthelargeglassdoors, I watch the beauty who caught my attention earlier. She pushes her wine glass away, its yellow liquid not interesting her. She has a sad scowl on her face. What does she have to be upset about? Her clothes are all designer, so I’m sure her husband or sugar daddy paid a pretty penny for it.
I watched when her eyes drifted to my drink with a look of jealousy. I can’t put my finger on it, but she’s different from every other woman in this place. Just before I turn away, I notice a man walking up to her. Ah, there’s her keeper.
I expect her to hide her frown and smile brightly. Instead, she turns away from the man. Interesting.
“Boss, we have an issue.” My attention is diverted to one of my men who stayed outside.
“What is it?”
