I place the apple on the counter, slow and measured.
When did he start affecting me like this? When did I let him?
“Entschuldigung,” I murmur to Jasper and his colleague, whose eyes are ping-ponging between us like they're watching a tennis match. “Apparently, I'm needed elsewhere.”
I brush past Asher, close enough that my shoulder shoves his chest. He smells like snow and sweat and barely controlled rage. The combination shouldn't make my pulse race.
But it does.
Christ, it does.
His hand catches my elbow before I make it two steps into the hallway, spinning me against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs. The white dress rides up as he cages me in, his body a wall of heat despite the snow still melting in his hair.
“What the fuck happened this morning?”
I flatten my face into a blank mask, hiding the wild thud of my heart. “You'll have to be more specific. It's been a long day.”
His eyes narrow. “Don't play coy with me, Venom. It ain't cute.”
He works his jaw, the tendons in his neck straining. He's holding himself back. Barely.
The hallway shrinks around us, air going thin. My lungs burn with each shallow breath I take. Snow melts from his hair, fat drops hitting the floor between us. Each one counts down his control—a timer ticking toward zero. His chest rises and falls in measured breaths, but I recognize that rhythm. I've watched him breathe through broken ribs, through altitude sickness, through pain that shatters grown men. This isn't survival. This is rage. This is him wanting to unleash on me, and fighting it with everything he has.
Then I sense it. The hurt. His head angles away, attention fixed past my shoulder. Disappointment carved into every line of his face, the slump of usually proud shoulders.
He expected me there. Of course he did. And I'd failed him without even knowing how. My throat tightens as the realization hits me. I've fucked up something important without even trying.
“Ash, I'm sorry,” I start, guilt squeezing my chest. The words feel pathetic the moment they leave my mouth, inadequate for whatever I've broken between us.
His face shifts, softening. He presses his lips to my forehead. “It's all good. I better go get ready.”
***
I trace the open floor plan of the outdoor entertainment area. The granite countertops giving way to gleaming bottles, then the pool's edge, then finally the bubbling corner of the spa where I've spent countless nights with my back against the jets and my thoughts underwater.
Tonight, the fireplace is in full blaze as I work on champagne number two. Bubbles help dull the dinner conversation. Parker's doing his thing, spinning shit jokes into gold, milking laughs from people too polite to tell him to shut up. Camille's staring daggers from her end of the table. I don't look back.
Same shit, different night.
Music drifts between fractured conversations as everyone picks at their food and drowns their discomfort in alcohol. The girl across from Punk wears her hair chopped brutal at the chin, makeup slashed on like she's headed to battle. She hasn't uttered much. But they never do. Especially when Parker won't shut the fuck up. Just like the young guy she came with. I think he's fighting for the title of who can talk the most. He speaks so much I'm beginning to suspect he's fallen in love with the sound of his own voice.
Jord leans in, his breath tickling my ear. “Gonna eat, Lover bird?”
My dress is suffocating, my makeup feels like a second skin I want to claw off, and my scalp is begging for someone to just rip the whole thing off instead of the tight pony I have it in.
How'd I end up here?
Champagne slides down, silk and sin. I swipe my lip, raise the empty flute. Mocking toast to my own stupidity, because danger flirts and I flirt back.
“I’m fine,” I answer, as the waiter refills my glass.
Asher's words echo.“I did if I didn’t want her to know I wished it was you.”The fuck does that mean? Why now? Why here?
“Such a gorgeous pair!” I don’t realize Camille is talking to Parker and I until I find her annoying smirk fixed on me.
“How's wedded bliss?” She giggles, nestling against Asher. “Do tell.”
My fingers bite into the suede chair before I force myself to relax. Until Parker's arm snakes around my shoulder and then they're digging back in.Jesus Christ.
