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A man bumped into her, and her champagne sloshed over the edge of her glass, soaking her black dress. It was her mother’s dress and she knew if she returned it in less than perfect condition, she’d never hear the end of it.
“Shoot.” She held her arms out as she looked down, inspecting the damage. He grunted as he stepped back.
“You should pay—” She glanced up at him and his words stopped.
He was an older man, maybe in his fifties, dark hair with grey peppered throughout. His skin was the obvious orange of a bad fake tan, and his face looked weirdly perfect, like he’d gotten a bit too much Botox.
“Are you okay?” he asked. Abbie pushed her brows together, confused. His tone, his face, his posture—everything had shifted from tense and angry, to relaxed. Jovial.
“Fine.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile. His eyes raked over her, and she had to force herself not to squirm.
“You seemed to spill on your dress.” He pointed at the damp spot on her chest. Instinctively, she rested her hand over the spot. His gaze was riveted to it, and she felt goosebumps ripple over her skin at his attention.
“Guess so,” she laughed nervously. Her body felt too hot and too cold. She just wanted to get away from this guy, but he didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. And if he did, she didn’t think he cared.
He held his hand out and she stared at it. “Ted,” he said. “Ted Bosco.” She hesitated before sliding her smaller hand into his. It was weirdly smooth—it might’ve been smoother than hers. It was like touching a baby.
She hated it.
“Abbie,” she said as she tried to pull her hand away. His grip barely tightened before he let go.
“Abbie…” He trailed off, giving her an expectant look. “Abbie what?”
“Little,” she bit out. “I’m Christopher’s sister.” His eyes widened, the only sign of his shock.
“Damn.” He scanned her again, slower. This time, his gaze felt slimier and she shifted on her feet. “You’re way too beautiful to be related to Chris.” He chuckled, but she couldn’t force a laugh out.
“I—um.” She didn’t know what to say. It was weird to accept a compliment that also insulted her brother. He stared at her intently, waiting. “I need to find my mother.”
“Wait.” He grabbed her wrist too tightly, forcing her to stop. The half-empty glass shook in her hand. From annoyance, or anger, or fear, she didn’t know. “Can’t we talk a bit longer? I’d love to get to know you.” He dropped his voice in a way that made her want to gag.
“I—I really need to go. My mother will be searching for me.” She hoped he didn’t know her family well enough to know it was a lie. But by the way his lips barely tipped up and his eyes sparkled with triumph, she knew he saw right through her.
“I think she was somewhere in the sitting room,” he said, waving his hand dismissively in that general direction.
Men and women in fancy clothes sashayed by, barely giving them a second glance. No one cared that this man was grabbing her, that his grip was too tight. He was hurting her, but she didn’t want to make a scene so she swallowed her pain.
Soft music and the strong scent of flowers floated through the air. The chatter was a dull roar in her ears as she stared up at Ted.
“I know,” she lied, her voice breathless. “She’ll be looking for me.”
“Will she?” he asked quietly. She swallowed thickly, her heart hammering in her chest. He stepped closer, and she stumbled back. He kept moving toward her until her back pressed against the wall.
Ted hovered over her, his hand still on her wrist, the other clutching his glass tightly. His cologne was suffocating, and she tried to hold her breath. He was crowding her, making it impossible to think.
It wasn’t a good feeling.
His hand moved from her wrist to her narrow waist and she stiffened. If she screamed, would anyone care?
“How have I never noticed you before?” he murmured, his fingers digging into her side. She didn’t think he wanted an answer to his question, so she kept her lips clamped tightly shut. Not that she would’ve been able to talk, anyway.
She couldn’t look away from his piercing blue gaze. All the air in her lungs disappeared as he readjusted his grip.
She’d never been cornered like this from a man before, and she wasn’t loving it. She’d always assumed she’d melt under this type of dominance, that she’d combust at the way a man could take charge of her. Control her.
But now that it was happening, it just made her feel panicky. She wanted an out. She just wanted to run away, grab Ottie, and hide under her bed.
“Is everything okay over there?”
