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“Want a drink?” my potential suitor asks when he sees my empty hands.
“Uh…”
What do I care what Dante does?I’m not a jealous person, but it feels like I’m fighting a losing battle, like all my emotions are amplified.
I don’t see Evan or Kurtis anywhere, and I was instructed to improvise at this club. I can’t watch Dante anymore, so I nod. “Sure. A drink would be good, but I’m buying my own.”
He grins, and it brings out his dimples, which make him cuter, but I rarely go for cute guys. “You are under no obligation to me if I buy you a drink. By the way, I like an independent woman.”
“I like a man who knows his place in the kitchen.” I smirk.
“As long as you bring home the bacon, I’ll cook it.”
I chuckle as we head over to the bar. My eyes keep straying over to Dante, no matter how often I chastise myself. As our drinks are delivered, I’m caught in the act of spying.
“So are you going to tell me about your complicated, non-relationship with the playboy?” Dimples asks.
“Do guys like it when women talk about another guy?” I raise a skeptical eyebrow.
“Not typically.” Dimples moves closer, brushing our knuckles together—a strangely intimate move. “But I’m not your typical guy.”
Dimples maneuvers us toward the open floor, where I have a clear view of Dante and his mating ritual.
“Howatypicalare you?” I hold up my hand to stop him from commenting. “No. Let me guess, your name is John or Mike. You had a pleasant childhood, with only a few negative incidents. You were on the baseball team in high school, had a high school sweetheart, lost your virginity to her, and then broke up during college because you drifted apart. Then you found another girlfriend, and she was nice, but when you considered marrying her, you just couldn’t see yourself spending the rest of your life with her raising the two kids you planned on having. She cheated on you anyway with a friend. Now, disillusioned with your dead-end job, you go to clubs and see if you can pick up a slightly damaged woman on her rebound.”
I rattle off all that with my psychic sense, but the whole thing rings false when I say it out loud. Thereismore to him, something he keeps hidden—darkness.
Dimples waits patiently through my analysis of him, and he grins when I finish and asks, “So… are you only aslightlydamaged woman on the rebound?”
“I’m in the discount bin.” I look over at Dante, and my heart pinches at the sight of him touching Miss Influencer. “I think I’ve been written off as an entire loss.” I down the rest of my drink in one shot.
“Damn, girl.” Dimples reaches out to caress my shoulder.
I swing my gaze back to him, and I’m taken aback by how close he is.
“You really likehim?” Dimples tilts his head in Dante’s direction. “Enough for you to feel like trash?”
I shiver, drained by my churning emotions. I’m jealous, and sadness has engulfed me. I’m beginning to feel my will for life slip away. It makes no sense that I’m reacting so poorly to Dante’s seduction of his target. Something’s wrong, but my mind’s too fuzzy to figure out what.
“You don’t need someone like that.” Dimples strokes down my back and over my ass, cupping it and pulling me closer. I don’t stop him. I lean into him like he’s an unstoppable gravitational force.
What’s going on? Why am I allowing this stranger to touch me? Am I finally and truly broken?
“Come with me,” Dimples says, and I realize he hasn’t given me his name.
“Who are you?”
“I’m someone who can take your pain away. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
It does. It really does.
Dimples grasps my hand, and I let him lead me to the back of the club. Everything is blurry, like I’m in a dream, and every moment I spend with this man pulls me deeper into a trance.
He brings me back to the office area. There’s a storage room, and he guides me inside.
“How broken are you, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice soft and seductive.
I ponder about the level of my brokenness, and I feel my insides crumbling. So many screwed up things have happened in my life, so many battles and so many losses, but why do I choose now to breakdown?
