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Calvin leans forward, grabs my glass, and takes a drink to show me he didn’t tamper with it. “Feel however you want to feel,” he says, so close I can feel his breath on my bare shoulder blade. “You’re entitled to that.”
“I’m still not going to drink it,” I tell him.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust you,” I state.
He shakes his head, but doesn’t look too put out. “You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart. It’s the slimy men who pretend to be nice guys you have to worry about slipping something in your drink. I’m not a nice guy, but I’ve been honest with you right from the start. I also have considerably more resources than a fucking frat boy. If I wanted you passed out in my bed, I’d hire men to stick you with a syringe and carefully transport you there while you were knocked out. I’d have a nice bath drawn for you when you wake up, a short, sexy little scrap of fabric to cover that beautiful body in, and once you were fully awake and able to participate,that’swhen I would fuck you.”
I don’t know how he can say such psychotic things so comfortably. Heat creeps up my neck and I look around, still self-conscious about anyone overhearing.He’sthe one who should be ashamed, but if anyone heard what he just said, I would be horrified.
Luckily, we’re far enough away that no one can hear us. With the rest of the bridal party out on the dance floor, we have a lot of privacy up here.
Well, I guess that isn’t reallylucky, but depraved as he may be, it’s not like he’ll maul me with an audience.
I don’t think.
Looking directly at him feels too daunting, but I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “Do you know men you could hire to syringe me and transport me to your home?”
“I do. And I have a flair for the dramatic, so I assure you if that’s what I wanted, I would do it that way, not by quietly dropping something in your drink at a wedding. Not my style.”
More than anything else he has said, that rings true. And Iamthirsty, so I grab the glass of orange and yellow liquid and take a small sip.
My taste buds dance with delight. It’s sweeter than I expected. I thought he would bring me something strong, but he went for something I would like the taste of instead.
He’s an intriguing man. Terrible, awful, and no-good, but intriguing.
Once I’ve swallowed the yummy drink, I finally summon the courage to look him directly in the eye. “There. I had a drink. Now will you go away?”
“You didn’t say thank you.”
My cheeks warm even though it’s ridiculous to have my manners rebuked by someone as heinous as him. “Thank you,” I say as drolly as possible.
He smiles, his eyes glinting with pleasure. “You’re welcome.”
I squirm because I can tell he’s thinking about last night, and that’s so uncomfortable I want to crawl out of my skin. “Leave now, please. Before I have to make a scene.”
He doesn’t move a muscle. “You won’t make a scene, Hallie, and we need to talk about these empty threats you keep doling out. Don’t you know you only undermine your own effectiveness when you make an empty threat? Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“I’m trying to get you to leave,” I cry, more frustration coming through than I intended. “Don’t you understand that? I would say anything to get you away from me. I’m not measuring my words carefully and thinking through consequences, I’m throwing anything I can at you to try to make you leave.Pleaseleave. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to talk to you. I am furious and hurt by what you did last night, and I am alsoagonizinglypowerless to take you down for it andpainfullyaware of that fact. It is humiliating and horrible, and I just want that feeling to go away.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think I see sympathy gleaming in his dark eyes.
I know tears glint in mine.
Huffing, I grab the cloth napkin on the table and dab at the corners of my eyes so my makeup doesn’t run.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I feel stupid for crying, especially in front of him, but my emotions surged and I couldn’t help it.
“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he says, his tone much gentler.
I wait for relief to hit me, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because I don’t trust him, so I won’t believe he’s really leaving until I’ve seen with my own eyes that he’s gone.
I have to say something to acknowledge he’s spoken, so I murmur a watery,” Thank you,” as I put the napkin down on my lap.
“But I want to see you again. Tomorrow. We’ll have dinner.”
