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Hervoice.
“What the hell are you doing here? I sure as hell know you’re not on the guest list.” Shock settles into her gorgeous face. “Are you here to threaten me again? To show me what I have to lose if I don’t keep my mouth shut about what happened?”
Skyla’s eyes narrow, full of hatred. It’s been three years since the last time I saw her at that night club in Miami, and time has turned the gorgeous book nerd with the messy bun and glasses into a sex goddess.
She crosses her arms over her chest in a tight black cocktail dress that hugs every inch of her body… the body I’ve fantasized about for years. My cock jerks, remembering as clearly as I do how incredible it felt to have her flushed skin pressed against mine.
She didn’t deserve what I did to her.
But I made my choice.
My fingers twitch, aching to tug at her long blonde hair. I remember the sweet taste of her skin under my tongue, the way her hips bucked against me when my lips teased the sensitive area behind her ear.
I should have stopped right then, before the damage was done.
I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Lust grabbed hold of my sanity and my bed was made.
Losing her haunted me as much as the loss of my career.
I ball my hands into tight fists. My career… my life… got sucked into the toilet because of her brother, my former best friend. All that pent-up rage simmers in my veins as I stare at Skyla, suddenly unable to separate her from everything that went so wrong in my life.
I did a fucking stupid thing, and karma has had me paying the price ever since.
“Don’t worry. I’m not here to crash your party.” My mind tries to work out what kind of party she’s hosting here, tonight of all nights when I just happen to be in the same place. Like I really need karma biting me in the ass right now. “And anyway, last time I saw you, you told me you never wanted to see me again. So why the fuck are you even talking to me right now?”
“Because I want you to know what a worthless piece of shit you are,” she seethes. “I don’t want to miss the chance to have you hear those words again, just in case you’ve forgotten them because I haven’t.”
Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid.
I catch a glimpse of a tall guy walking toward us, not bothering to silence the groan. Tyson fucking Van Dyne, the prick heir to his father’s real estate fortune, and one of the cockiest, most entitled motherfuckers I’ve ever had to battle for air.
“Malikov, this party is invite only. Leave now or I’ll have you carried out in a body bag.” Tyson’s face twists into a grimace and he puts a hand on Skyla’s shoulder. “Come on, you need to get back to the party and away from the trash.”
Skyla nods as she glares at me. “Like I said, Zak. Worthless. Piece. Of. Shit.”
A deep ache assaults my gut at the disgust dripping from her glossy pink lips.
I hate that I hurt her… that I ruined her on so many levels.
My eyes sweep over her toned arms and long, tanned legs.
But fuck, I want her back.
On her back.
Any and every which way I can get her.
Except she definitely wants me dead, which makes sense under the circumstances.
Skyla does an about-face and storms over to a closed door across the hallway without a look back.
Tyson doesn’t make a move to follow her, though.
My pulse rumbles in my throat. I eye his preppy douchebag getup. I can kick his ass right now and make a brand-new fashion statement with bloodstains on seersucker. Fucking brilliant. I can be the new Tom fucking Ford. Electricity floods my fists, making them destruction ready. The only thing stopping me are the three security guards approaching from behind Tyson. They wear matching scowls, their narrowed eyes daring me to make a move.
