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Sally’s breath snagged in her throat, her heart pounding a beat too fast to not be fatal.
His eyes.
It was his eyes that caught her first; their flashing deep green turned nearly black as he advanced on her, hitting the marble floor of the foyer with long, dangerous strides.
She couldn’t move—why couldn’t she move? This was precisely what she’d wanted to avoid. She’d never wanted to see him again, she’d wanted to avoid the party altogether, but she was a better sister—a better person than that, right? But now, she was stuck. Her goddamn feet were glued to the floor as the man she’d fallen for and now hated with every blood cell in her body walked toward her, looking at her like she was something that slunk in off the street…after being run over by a garbage truck and vomited on by a cirrhosis-ridden hobo.
Perfectly styled ink-black hair glinted in the overhead light as he moved toward her, his expression hard, his appallingly soft yet masculine lips thinned. Dressed like a GQ model with more sex appeal than all the Magic Mike dancers put together, he wore the hell out of black slacks that hugged his thick thighs. His hard chest, trim waist, and delectably cut biceps were put on glorious display with a form-fitting white button-down with the top button undone behind his loosened gold-colored tie, showing a teasing amount of golden-tanned skin. Skin she’d licked, kissed…had pressed against her naked flesh. He looked like a man just coming home from work ready to sex up his woman. It was a daring style for a party, but it worked for him.
Shuddering at the uninvited memory, she tore her gaze from his hard body and met his gaze, ignoring the knowing smirk on his lips.
He stopped right in front of her, inches separating them. Too much separating them.
Like lies.
Despite her six-inch heels and five-foot-seven frame, he towered over her, his six-foot-five height used to his advantage in his effort to, no doubt, make her feel small. And what the hell was his problem? She’d been invited, she had every right to be there, but he’d marched toward her, face twisted in disgust and rage as though she’d done something wrong.
Well, screw that.
Straightening her shoulders, she glared up at him, refusing to allow his bullying tactic to work on her. She was motherfucking fierce badass; she would never again cower against bullies.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Run out of moneyed men at the bar to seduce and suck dry? Decide to find me and see if you can get into my bed and my wallet one more time?”
Speechless at his words and vitriol, she didn’t have time to speak before he continued.
“It doesn’t matter what you think you’re doing here—whatever your name is—I want you gone. So why don’t you take your too-short dress, your designs on my fortune, and get the hell out before I have you thrown out on your fat ass.”
Sucking in a breath, Sally stood, stunned, pain at his words running through her like black fire. How dare he? He acted like she was the one who’d ghosted him, lied to him! He acted like she’d dragged him into her bed and then snatched the cash and cards from his wallet, a whore looking to pay for her next score. But he was the one who’d fucked her then fucked her over, turning her into a mistress when all she’d wanted from him was a night—one single, perfect night—where she was cherished by someone she’d felt more for. Apparently, all he’d felt for her was disdain.
As his words finished filtering through her mind, her anger grew until her skin was too hot for her bones beneath.
Removing all traces of emotion from her face, she met him head-on, pinning him to the floor with eyes sparking with cold wrath.
Her voice and tone controlled, she replied, “Mr. White. I see you are under a misconception.”
Stiffening, his eyebrows flew up, his eyes flashing.
“While I am impressed with your arrogance at believing every woman you’ve slept with all want to climb back into your cold, crusty bed, I am not here for you. I am here for someone else, someone who invited me personally.”
His nostril flared in his straight Romanesque nose, his lips curled into a snarl, and his eyes narrowed at her. At his heated look of angry disbelief, her sly smile just could not be held back. The man had some big clanging brass balls if he thought she was actually there to see him. Arrogance, indeed! She’d rather swallow acid with a fire ant chaser than go anywhere for him.
He growled, the sound rumbling from his chest. Her body, the bitch, reacted to the dominant sound, her nipples hardening. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her breasts, knowing that the tightness of her dress hid nothing. Thank God he was too busy glowering at her to notice.
He leaned down, his voice a gritty rasp slipping through clenched teeth, he ground out, “I don’t give a fuck what pussy-whipped idiot you fooled into inviting you here, you are not welcome in my home or at my party—”
“Sally,” a familiar voice called from the open doorway to her left, and the tension holding her captive immediately loosened a smidgeon. Her brother. His smile was wide and bright enough to light up the coast of Florida. God, she loved seeing him happy. That’s all she ever wanted for him.
She couldn’t help but smile back, her chest warming under her beloved brother’s attention. After two years of living apart—AJ in Miami and her stuck in Maison in Savannah—she’d turned 18 and immediately evacuated the toxic waste dump, leaving behind a lifetime of fear, disgust, rage, and pain. It had been as though the doors of her prison had been thrown wide, and she’d shambled out, her skin pale, her clothes tattered, her eyes disabused of sunlight.
But Mama….
Refusing to dig up old, damaging thoughts, Sally forced herself to focus on the mess she was currently in.
AJ, unaware of the confrontation going on between his new partner and his sister, practically skipped to them, his arms spread, his glittering green-hazel eyes glowing in his sun-kissed tan face.
Without hesitation, Sally threw herself into his embrace.
