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Penelope glances at me as I curl my fingers around the glass, my whole focus belonging to Octavius. I can’t tear my gaze away from him.
How could anyone consider him anything but handsome? What’s so great about the rest of the four anyway?
I barely pay attention to Santiago and Remi, who enter next, although I don’t miss Penelope’s reaction toward the latter. She should really nip this whole crush in the bud before it flourishes into obsession akin to mine.
Remi Reyes is too twisted for Penelope.
She grabs the water bottle, ready to pour herself another glass, when I see Octavius scanning the crowd, and everything inside me grows cold at the prospect of him choosing his flavor of the year right now.
Without thinking it through, I turn on my heel, and Penelope’s brows rise when I gulp for breath, opening and closing my mouth, searching for the right words to explain something I don’t understand myself, but my mind fails me.
All I can focus on is the voice in my head screaming at me to get to him, so I whisper, “I have to go.” That’s all the warning she gets before I race to the door, open it wide, and take off down the stairs.
Her heels click on the parquet behind me, so she must follow me as we rush through the hallway and then downstairs, Penelope barely catching up with me on the dance floor. I push the bodies away, moving forward, keeping my gaze on Octavius who seems to still not notice me.
Anger zips through me. Of course, he’s too busy thinking about other women to entertain even the idea of me, the dick!
And the fact that I have no right to blame him or act like an irrational, jealous woman scorned is not lost on me, not that I care.
Penelope grabs my elbow, halting my movements, and pulls me toward her so I look at her. Music blasts from the speakers, and the floor vibrates under us from people dancing.
“Where are you going, Isla?”
My cheeks heat at her perplexed and concerned expression, but how can I explain this? Exhaling heavily, I step closer to her, ready to at least give her something, when someone bumps into me from behind. Ignoring it, I say, “I’m sorry, Penelope. But I need to talk to one of them about my past.” I hook a brown lock behind my ear. “I’ve been waiting for this for months, believe it or not.” I mutter the last part, hoping for her understanding even though I deserve none for how I acted with her. Narrowing my eyes as I rise on my tiptoes, I try to look over people’s heads to the bar, but everyone is too freaking tall! “I think you should go home.”
She blinks in surprise at this, her hold easing on me, and she asks, “What?”
I nod, freeing myself completely from her grasp. “Thank you for giving me this chance. I’ll send you the report tomorrow. You have no idea how you’ve helped me.” I turn away, glancing at the bar again. “But I have to go. I probably shouldn’t have dragged you into this, and for that, I apologize.”
I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her, and the closer I get to Octavius, the clearer I see this will end in a disaster.
Exhaustion assaults me as I clench my fist, absorbing strength from the fire that’s been burning brightly in me for more than a decade. However, even vengeance has an expiration date. Does my pain really give me the right to exploit and harass people around me?
I’ve done nothing but force people to endure my company.
Penelope snaps, irritation lacing her voice. “Send me the report now, and we’ll be done.”
I shake my head. “No. I can’t. Not before—”
“You can’t?” she repeats and huffs in exasperation, glaring at the man who waves his hands around in the air and spills a little of his drink on her shoes. “Isla, keep your word, or I swear to God you’ll be kicked out of this club before you get the opportunity to speak to one of the owners.”
“I’m about tired of all you rich people threatening me.” I cross my arms, although amusement fills me at how easily she fell back into her heiress role. She played nice as long as she could. With them, it always ends in threats one way or the other. “It’s hilarious, all things considered.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m tired of all the shit you private investigators put me through. Send the report, and we’ll be done.”
I study her for several seconds as tension rises between us, and then a grin stretches my mouth, and she frowns.
“I think I’m starting to like you, Penelope. You have character under all that good-girl persona. You have that in common with Amalia.” She freezes at that. “She doesn’t hesitate to put people in their place if they try her patience either.”
At least that much I learned at Giselle’s wedding; her twin was too cold and aloof to form any kind of conversation with her.
The music changes from a soft tempo to a hard thump, and people move around the dance floor, pushing us closer together. The scent of sweat and sex fills the air, and I grip her wrist, tugging her toward the bar as she won’t leave, so we have to stalk Octavius together.
We make it a few steps before a young guy with a boyish smile stands in front of me, winking at us both. His suit showcases his lean body, and by how charm oozes from him, he has no trouble getting women. “Hey, ladies. I haven’t seen you here before.” His gaze darts between us before he gives his full attention to me.
Generally, men act as if I’m invisible and choose whoever is next to me, and while during my teens it might have hurt me, I’ve dealt with my plain status and accepted it. Which explains my lack of desire for sex, really. I tried it, and well…it was so…so…so weird, awkward, and unfulfilling. I never wanted to do it again.
Well, until I met a special someone who might see me but still treats me akin to a pesky insect he can’t wait to get rid of.
