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“That’s the part you think—” She stopped talking, aware of the fact her volume was rising. She sucked in a deep breath and counted to ten, even though it went against every grain inside her.
Liza was the youngest of four kids and the only girl. That meant she’d grown up with a bunch of rough-and-tumble brothers. It was the kind of upbringing that ensured she knew how to stand her ground, to never say die. It was that or be run over roughshod by the male contingency. She’d learned to throw a punch about three seconds after taking her first step. Her brother Elio had been a shameless toy hog at four, always wanting whatever she had. And at three years old, she’d managed to correct him of that shortcoming.
“Liza,” Davis started again.
“Davis,” she said, relieved to discover her voice was quieter. “I promise you; I’m not overreacting. If anything, I’m underreacting. You need to leave. Now.”
Her temper was close to the surface, but she refused to do anything that would jeopardize all the work she’d done for the shelter. The last thing she was going to do tonight was make a scene.
So, she did something she never did.
She stepped away from the fight.
“Lose my number.” She turned her back, walking in the opposite direction, praying he didn’t follow.
She hadn’t made it more than a half dozen steps when another voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Davis. How are you?” The sound of her date’s name, too close behind her, told her the fucker was giving chase. Or at least, he had been. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as Matt drew the asshole into conversation, deliberately drawing him farther and farther away from her.
Spying an easy escape—thanks to Matt Russo, of all people—she continued her retreat, not stopping until she reached one of the large windows at the back of the ballroom. She considered trying to open the damn thing but dismissed the thought instantly. As it was Philadelphia in December, and cold as fuck outside, people would bitch, even though she was sorely tempted to see if the single digits could cool the furious anger raging red hot inside her.
Placing her forehead against the chilly glass, she blew out a long, slow sigh. She should have known Davis was too good to be true.
God, she hated that she’d let herself hope, even for a second, that he might be the one.
The one.
Yeah, right.
As the years passed, she was genuinely beginning to fear that person didn’t exist for her. Especially as she’d stood on the sidelines, watching her friends Jess, Penny, Gianna, and Keeley, all fall madly in love and settle down with their perfect matches. She’d never considered herself a particularly jealous person, not the type to covet what others had. But lately, she was so overwhelmed by bone-deep envy, it felt as if it was eating her alive.
“Ms. Moretti.”
Liza closed her eyes wearily. She was too tired for round seven hundred and forty-seven with Matt. Though she supposed she needed to thank him for running interference. His timing with Davis was too perfect to be anything but, which meant…he’d been watching.
She stiffened her spine and turned, glancing over Matt’s shoulder to look for Davis.
“He’s gone,” Matt said.
“Thank you.”
Matt nodded, his typical lack of expression replaced by something that looked a bit like concern, which was definitely a new one.
He turned away from her briefly, taking two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, before offering one to her. “Davis’s ego is only surpassed by his ambition.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she said miserably, taking a sip of the champagne. Then she decided to hell with it. She upended the glass, draining it in one long swig.
For a split second, she thought Matt looked almost amused.
“Did we make a scene?” She was concerned Matt wasn’t the only one to notice her altercation with Davis.
Matt shook his head. “No. I happened to be passing by when I heard you ask him to leave.”
“Not one of my better dates,” she muttered. “Of course, it wasn’t one of my worst, either.”
Before he could reply, Patricia stepped next to him.
“All work and no play, Matt.” Patricia pouted. “I’m sure there’s nothing you and Liza have to say to each other that can’t wait until the next board meeting. Come dance with me. I love this song.”
