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“I think you’ve done enough talking for one night,” Brewer growled.
Diablo’s shit-eating grin vanished.
“But I was just—”
Brewer raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, sir,” Diablo muttered.
As Brewer headed for the bar, I slid my phone out of my pocket, sneaking a peek at it under the table. I knew better than to hope Beth might have texted or called so soon after dropping her off. But I couldn’t help feeling a pinprick of disappointment when I didn’t find any messages or missed calls from her.
Before I realized what I was doing, I typed inBethany Goldein the internet search bar. A flurry of pictures appeared, displaying skimpy scraps of lace and silk. Long, blonde hair spilled over one shoulder to artfully hide a bare breast.
God, she was gorgeous. Breathtaking. There was something ethereal about her, graceful and light like a ballerina. With her lashes lowered and her face half-turned away from the camera, she almost looked bashful. Shy.
A pang hit me hard in the chest. Even if Beth didn’t remember me after tonight, wrapped up in her photo shoots and living in her expensive house, I would never forget that kiss in the dark theater parking lot.
Chapter Three
Beth
I was barely two steps inside the house before Mom started her interrogation.
“Lionel called. Claimed you dumped him and grabbed a biker off the street instead.”
I huffed a laugh of disbelief and kicked off my heels at the door, scooped them up, and started for the stairs to my bedroom. Why was it not surprising that Lionel would tattle on me at the first he got?
“Did he mention the part where he left me at the theater, alone, when it was eleven o’clock at night?” I shot back.
Mom’s blue eyes blazed with indignation. She crossed her arms.
“Don’t pin the blame on him. You won’t find a better man for a husband, I hope you know that. You’re acting very spoiled, Bethany. It’s not attractive.”
Lionel had accused me of the same thing—not being attractive. Was that the only thing I was good for? My looks? Whether I was pleasing and palatable to other people?
“If you think Lionel is such a great catch,” I countered. “Why don’tyoumarry him, Mom?”
She reared back, sputtering and offended.
Good, I thought. Let her be scandalized. She wasmymother, not Lionel’s. She should be taking my side.
With Mom’s pearl earrings and trademark white pants suit, there wasn’t a hair out of place, even at the late hour. For my entire life, she’d been like this—rigidly maintaining her flawless facade, obsessed with her reputation and her public image.
I was part of that public image. If I misbehaved, it reflected poorly on her.
“Don’t speak to me that way, Bethany Marie,” Mom countered. “Acting out like this could ruin your career. I worked too hard to build it for you and I won’t stand by while you throw it all away. If you don’t call Lionel and apologize, I’ll be forced to patch up your mistake myself.”
The urge to scream burned in my throat. Everything I did was under my mother’s microscope. I had to date the man she picked out for me. I had to maintain the modeling career she wanted me to have. And if Mom wasn’t making my choices for me, Lionel would tell me what to wear, the events to attend on his arm, and when to have sex, whether I was in the mood or not.
The only time I felt like I’d made a choice of my own was kissing Axel. And I didn’t regret that choice at all.
“I’m going to bed,” I replied.
Mom stood at the bottom of the stairwell, frowning.
“Did you hear a word I just said?”
“Yeah, you’re kissing Lionel’s ass so I still have a boyfriend that you approve of.”
