I fold my arms across my chest, a defense mechanism.
“Everything okay here?” comes a voice from behind us. Daniel looks between us. Thank God. An out from this deeply confusing encounter. “Nina? Do you want to come back to the table?”
I smile at him gratefully and pull back from Art.
I hadn’t realized how close we were standing.
“Thanks Daniel. Idowant to go back to the table.” I link my arm through his.
Art scowls.
“See you around, Nina.”
At least he used my name.
My colleagues watch as Daniel leads me back to the table.
I haven’t been out in heels much since I had Ava and I’m feeling wobbly. Although the two shots of tequila I slammed back after my interaction with Art may be contributing to that sensation.
“What the hell was that?” Lily’s face is a mixture of shock and excitement.
“An ex,” I grimace. “I just saw him and felt…”
“Like you wanted to jump his bones? Because yeah, honey, I get it.”
I sigh. The familiar feeling of being Art’s inadequate girlfriend returns to me. When you’re freckly and curvy and your boyfriend looks like a Greek god and has more money than you can fathom, people love to tell you how well you’re doing.
“He’s an asshole.”
“Mhmm. But if he looks like that, he can be as much of an asshole as he wants.”
“No, he can’t.”
I reach for the jug of sangria on the table and pour a large glass.
I feel a rush of embarrassment as I head out of the bar and see Art. If he didn’t keep catching me off-guard, I would be acting normal, like everyone else does when they see their exes.
His eyes are fixed on the door where I’m silhouetted, considering turning back. He leans back against his car, the collar of his coat raised against the cold, his breath fogging the night air. He must have waited out here for hours.
Behind him is a shiny black SUV, the thick bulletproof glass glossyand impenetrable. The kind of car that screams organized crime. I consider ducking back inside, but he’s already seen me.
“Get in.” His deep voice is husky from the cold as he opens the door. The warmth from the car is hard to resist, but I keep walking, shaking my head.
“Get fucked.”
“Nenoka—” his hand encircles my wrist, rough and deliciously warm in the cool night. Reluctantly, I turn to face him.
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Fine.” His jaw tenses. “But it’s late, and it’s dangerous, and I am not letting you go home alone. Not after you had half a jug of sangria.”
I pause for a beat, narrowing my eyes at him. “You weren’t even in the bar when I did that.”
“I sent someone in to keep an eye on you.”
He did not send someone in to watch me have drinks with my colleagues. I cast my mind back to the tattooed man with dark hair, drinking at the bar alone, who Lily was eyeing up.
“That is not normal.”
