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I order a third glass of wine before I start writing back. I tell Bella everything, from the random emails to all the photos. I find some of the most embarrassing and incriminating images and attach them and sit there staring at the screen.
If I do this, it’s game over.
I drain my third glass and I’m solidly tipsy now.
William will never forgive me. It’ll nuke all my bridges and then some. My father will kill me. William’s family will kill me.
But I keep seeing his face. That smug grin. That stupid shake of his head. That freaking denial.
If he’d admitted it. If he’d taken some responsibility. Heck, if he’d apologized, I might still be at his place right now. This wouldn’t be happening. I’m naive, but I’m not stupid. Maybe we could’ve worked it out and come to an arrangement. Something that would benefit us both, or at least that would’ve minimized the fallout.
Instead, that privileged asshole acted like he can do whatever he wants and walk away from it with clean hands.
Don’t hold back, Baby, I type at the bottom.
I hit send and seal my fate.
Chapter 3
Marie
The bar is dark and hot and crowded and the opening band is too loud. Ansell Drake sits with Baptist sipping a whiskey and scowling around with a cold stare as the young people mill around them, laughing and shouting to each other over the music. A bubble of space forms around Ansell like everyone’s too afraid to get close to him, and I can’t blame them.
I’m terrified. And not just because my phone’s been blowing up all day with messages from friends and family talking about the article Bella wrote.
No, it’s Ansell and the way he keeps looking at me with this fierce, icy glare.
I’m drawn to those eyes in a perverse way. I should be terrified—and in some ways, I am—but instead I’m drawn in like I can’t look away. I’m weak when he’s looking at me, weak and mindless. It’s stupid and silly, and I shouldn’t let myself get baited by my boss, but he’s so handsome and stands out in the crowd like a beacon of frozen sophistication in a sea of sweaty college-aged kids.
“I like this place,” Baptist shouts over the music, grinning. He’s a good-looking man too—dark skin, straight teeth, short curly dark hair, muscular and well-dressed. “We’re too used to fancy fucking places, you know.”
“Speak for yourself,” Ansel says, not smiling.
“He pretends like he’s still from the streets, but he’s more used to yachts and private planes than he is dive bars these days.”
“Well, uh, I’m glad you’re both here,” I say, not sure if I really mean it. I’m itching to check my phone, but I swore that I wouldn’t. I haven’t responded to anyone yet, and I just want to get through this before I deal with the real world again. I’m not even sure what I’m going to say. Sorry I ruined my fiancé’s reputation? William’s a piece of shit and his family is going to literally murder me? Everything feels so surreal, and poor Bella Baby, she’s dealing with all this crap too.
“Kari said they’ll be on soon,” I say, trying to focus on the here and now.
“Don’t worry, he looks like he’s miserable, but he loves it.” Baptist grins and nudges Ansell. “Admit it, you miserable prick.”
“I admit nothing.” Ansell sighs and takes a drink. “But this place isn’t bad. I’ve been in much worse.”
“Wow, truly a glowing review. Anyway, I’m getting a better view for the set.” Baptist gets to his feet. “You two be good.” He grins, winks at me and walks off, melting into the crowd. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean and I catch a strange look from Ansell. He’s watching me over his drink, head tilted, frowning like he’s studying my body. I’m in a tight white top that shows off my midriff and my short dirty-blonde hair is down around my shoulders. My tight black jeans are the ones that make my butt look awesome, and yes, I wore them on purpose.
I watch Baptist go, stomach flipping. I wish he’d stay—he’s a good buffer between me and my terrifying boss.
“He’s got a good ear for this.” Ansell stares after his second-in-command and glances at me. “There’s a reason I keep him around.”
“Oh,” I answer and clear my throat. “What about you?” I regret saying it right away, but he doesn’t bother replying, only watches the stage as the first band finishes their last song and Pride begins to prep for their set.
I’m uncomfortable, shifting in my seat, not sure what I should be doing. Ansell keeps looking at me, and I’m not sure what he’s thinking. Probably regretting this whole night. I wonder if he knows about Bella Baby and the article, but no, Ansell is way above all that drama. Still, every time he looks at me, I get the feeling he’s really looking, like he’s fully present and studying my skin, from my arms to my lips to my breasts, and I don’t know what it means.
