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“Oh,” is my brilliant response.
My eyes dart back up to my painting, and I slide my chair back.
“You alright, Honey?” King’s palm lands on my thigh.
“Yep,” I squeak out. “I just need to use the restroom.” I pause before rising. “Could you tell me where?”
“I’ll show you.”
“No, not necess––” I start.
“Excuse us for just a moment,” King says to the group. “I’ve neglected to properly show my wife where everything is here.”
Even though everyone is dressed to the nines, the atmosphere is fairly casual, so no one seems bothered by the interruption.
I hurry out of my chair, and out of the room, ahead of King.
His long strides catch him up to me, and the palm I’m getting way too used to, presses into the small of my back.
“This way,” he guides me to the left.
He doesn’t say more, and neither do I, as he shows me to an elegant powder room.
I’m pissed at him right now. For bringing me here. For not warning me. For not warning Aspen. But still…his presence is comforting. Though that’s probably just because he’s the only person I know here. And I’m not counting Aspen. Because the way we know each other is definitely a detriment, not a comfort.
“Thank you,” I say, my manners getting the best of me, as I step into the bathroom and close the door behind me.
I don’t really have to pee, but I go anyway. Not wanting the urge to sneak up on me and have to get up again in twenty minutes. But at this point, I guess who cares if everyone ends up thinking I have a UTI.
I take my time washing my hands, turning the water all the way cold, hoping it will shock some life into me.
When I finally open the door, I jump.
“Oh my god,” I slap a hand to my chest, the skin-on-skin noise louder than I expected, drawing King’s gaze down.
“If you end up with a handprint across the top of your tits, we’re gonna have some explaining to do.” The edge of his mouth tips up, then he steps toward me.
“What are you doing?”
He lifts a brow, “When in Rome.”
“Huh?” Then I get it. “Oh.” I move out of the way, and King steps into the bathroom.
When the door shuts, I debate my options. Stand here in silence or go back into the viper’s den by myself.
I stay. Obviously.
The bathroom door clicks open a minute later, and I’ve used the time to practice slow breathing. Not that it’s helped to calm me any.
King stops in front of me, looking down at me with those beautiful gold eyes, and I ball my hand into a fist and punch him in the chest.
He catches the back of my hand before I pull it away, keeping it pressed to his body. “Now, what was that for?”
“I’ll give you one guess?” I snap at him, trying to keep my voice down.
His free hand darts out, gripping the base of my ponytail, tipping my head back until I’m looking him in the eye. “I know this doesn’t seem ideal––”
“Ideal?!”
