“Dee, you should wait next door. Colt’s in a… a meeting, and as soon as he is, well, free, I’ll send him to your room. In fact, I’ll come with you to catch up. C’mon, let’s go,” Anna says in a rush, sliding her way out of the door without opening it any further.
I thrust my foot between the door and the frame just as Anna tries to close it. A wave of unease crashes over me.
She doesn’t want me to go inside.
Which only makes me more determined.
Her expression is guarded, her body angled defensively, and the way she hesitates—grasping for excuses—only fuels my suspicion.
My stomach tightens.
I knew I shouldn’t have left the way I did.
Colt must be inside, drunk, and passed out on the floor. That has to be it. And Anna, in some twisted attempt to protect me, is trying to spare me from the guilt of seeing what I caused.
But I don’t need protecting.
I need to see him.
And I’m not leaving until I do.
“Anna, I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Dee, just trust me. Let’s go next door,” she says, taking my arm and trying to pull me toward the suite.
I rip my arm from her grip, my pulse spiking. She’s scaring me now. Something is wrong. I shove past her, forcing my way through the door so I can see what’s really going on.
“Dee. Dee, wait!” Anna calls out frantically, following me inside.
The room is a blur of bodies.
Women—half-dressed, some not at all—lounge across every surface, draped over couches, tangled in sheets, lost in the haze of alcohol and desire. My pulse skyrockets as I shove my way through the mass of bare skin, my breath coming too fast, too shallow.
I need to find Colt.
Panic claws at my chest as I push through the chaos, flinging open doors one by one. Each bedroom is the same, with bodies entwined in every way imaginable, laughter and moans blending into the pounding bass of the music.
But no Colt.
By the time I reach the last door, nausea churns in my stomach. My fingers tremble as I twist the handle, dread pooling in my veins. The door swings open, and the first thing I see is the beer bottles, dozens of them, scattered across the floor.
Then my gaze lifts to the bed.
And my heart drops through my chest.
The air is sucked from my lungs, a choked gasp escaping before I can stop it.
No.No. NO.
Anna grips my arm, but I can’t move.
I can’t speak.
I can’t breathe.
I’m frozen.
Shattered.
