I tighten my hand on Zane’s, just for something real to hold onto.
He squeezes back without looking at me, scanning the room like he’s already counting exits and threats and which bodies he’d trample first to get me out. I hate that it comforts me and to hide the very un-feminist feeling, I snag the first glass of champagne I see.
Which snags Zane’s attention. I’m attempting to decode the weird look in his eyes as he watches me take a sip when Freddie swoops in within minutes, ushering us into conversation circles so fast my head spins.
Ruby Lane, meet the director.
Ruby Lane, meet the choreographer.
Ruby Lane, meet a producer who calls me “sweetheart” in the tone of a man who thinks my IQ is single digit.
Zane’s jaw ticks so hard I hear it grind.
I smile. I small-talk. And I try not to die inside.
Eventually when Freddie manages to surgically extract Zane from my side to talk to an exec who insists on privacy—to Zane’s thunderous scowl—I drift toward the open bar, taking in a breath of air that tastes less like champagne mist and more like survival.
God, I miss normal. And God, I hate that part of me wonders if I’d even recognize normal anymore. Especially after Zane Draven.
I reach for a napkin, just as someone steps into my path, blocking my view to the rest of the room.
A man I don’t know, although by the handsome smirking going on, he’s sure I do. Before I can open my mouth, he holds out his palm, displaying something small and colourful.
“Want something stronger?” he purrs. “It’ll perk you up faster than the speed of a bullet train.”
Before I can blink, before I can even register the shape of the pill, someone growls.
Loud enough to drown out the music.
And the temperature in the room plummets.
13
WHEN THE LIGHT HITS THE RUIN
ZANE
Ihaven’t taken my eyes off her since she left my side.
So of course, I’m only half listening to the studio exec droning on about fuck-knows-what when I notice the man making a beeline for Ruby.
He carries himself with a careless confidence that irritates me on sight, the sort of swagger that comes from too much money and too little consequence.
His attention fixes on her across the room with an entitlement that sends hot lava through my bloodstream, and I watch him close the distance between them with a grin that already tells me everything I need to know.
He’s about to encroach on forbidden territory.
Sure as fuck the second he reaches her, he leans in far too close. Says something I can’t hear from across the room but I don’t need one of Mama’s crystal balls to guess. Because he opens his palm and reveals a small pill.
The noise in the room evaporates.
My focus narrows to the shape of her shoulders and the angle of his hand and the unmistakable intent in his smile, and I am already moving before the thought fully forms.
I cut through the crowd in a straight, brutal line.
People sway aside when they sense the tension radiating off me, and by the time Ruby has even processed the man’s offer, I have him pinned against the bar with my hand curled into his collar. The pill bounces across the marble surface and rolls under a stack of glasses.
“Are you offering drugs to my girl?” My voice is rough enough to scrape the air.
