I walk into the ensuite to do something with my hair and face, and when I’m done, I step back, admiring the final look.
I’m smoking hot.
Colt’s going to flip when he sees me.
A new sense of determination washes over me. My fight instinct has kicked in well and truly, and thirty minutes later, I’m strutting my stuff in the lobby. The click-clack of my killer heels on the marble floor echoes sharply throughout the giant space. I ask the concierge for a cab, and luckily, there is one waiting outside, so I slide in.
When my cell rings a few times while I’m on my way, I don’t check to see who it is.
I haveonegoal in mind.
Reminding Colter Slade that I won’t be easily ignored.
The paparazzi are lined up when I arrive at the club, waiting to get their shots of12GAUGE-Slayed, who is more than likely already inside. I walk past them, and they don’t recognize me out of my regular jeans and Converse.
Mental note—bonus right there!
I walk straight up to the bouncer, who lets me in with a wink.
That’s the confidence booster I need.
I strut into the club and over to the VIP section, where I know they’ll be seated.
Again, I’m let in with a wink and an, “Oh yeah, kitty cat,” from the security at the door. I smile and walk straight in.
Not looking at anyone in particular, I feel all eyes are on me, and for once in my life, that makes me happy. I strut over to the bar and order a vodka on the rocks.
When I feel a hand on my back, I know it’snotColt. I turn to Jared, who’s looking me up and down. “Holy shit, Dee, you look smoking.”
I smile, but my attention drifts across the room, drawn to where Jessi is deep in conversation with Colt. He hasn’t even noticed me yet. A flicker of disappointment tightens my chest, and I scoff under my breath. Jared follows my gaze, his expression shifting as he picks up on my reaction.
“Oh yeah, she’s been all over him since the concert finished,” he states, his hand still resting on my lower back.
My crazy anger is back when I see her laugh, and Colt smiles at her.
The moment the bartender hands me my drink, I take a measured sip, resisting the urge to down it in one go. With a huff, I turn and grab Jared’s hand, pulling him onto the dance floor. He doesn’t resist—his gaze drops to my cleavage, dark with desire.
A lump forms in my throat. I try to swallow, but it stays lodged there, thick and unmoving. I hate the way Jared ogles me, but if it gets under Colt’s skin, then it’s damn well worth it. Positioning myself just right, I keep Colt in my line of sight while feigning interest in Jared.
I know it’s childish.
I know it’s stupid.
But common sense left me hours ago.
“You wanna dance or stand here looking stupid?” Jared asks, leaning into me.
Inwardly, I cringe as, finally, Colt’s eyes catch mine. He looks me up and down, and he shakes his head slightly. I start laughing and pretending that Jared has said something incredibly funny. He looks at me like I might be possessed, but I don’t care because the look on Colt’s face right now isexactlywhat I’m after.
Jared takes my free hand and pulls me closer, spilling my drink. “I always wanted to know what it felt like,” Jared says, making me look at him with a raised eyebrow.
“What?”
“Your body against mine.” Jared pulls me flush against him.
Colt’s gaze is locked onto me, intense and unwavering, while Jessi chatters beside him, oblivious. I take a slow sip of my vodka, letting the burn ground me as I sway against Jared to the truly terrible music.
The rational part of me knows this is reckless—leading Jared on is wrong, ridiculous, and more than a little messed up.But logic? Restraint?They left the building with my sanity.
