I can feel her eyes on me. Vera.
She’s seated somewhere further down the table, her laugh soft, sweet, and calculated. I don’t even have to look up to know. I feel her gaze sliding over me like silk laced with thorns.
And it’s not just her. There are others, too, some guests whose stares linger a little too long. Whispers I can’t hear, but I can sense all the same. Maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe not.
Davika stands and says a few words about welcoming everyone, then gives a speech about her makeup brand and how it’s been going. She thanked a few people, including Vera. The rest of what she’s saying blurs in my ear since I couldn’t even concentrate due to the anxiety biting at me.
I push the food around with my fork, pretending. Hoping it’s enough.
“You’re not eating,” Alex says quietly beside me, his voice cutting through the noise like a thread of warmth. I glance up at him. His face is turned slightly toward me, brow furrowed. Concern etched into the sharpness of his features.
I sign quickly, “I’m just not hungry.”
He understands what I just signed because he watches me for a second too long, then leans closer, lowering his voice.
“You’re always hungry, Lucas.”
I give him a dramatic gasp, and he chuckles lightly.
It’s a sexy chuckle I’ve never heard from him before, and while it warms me and reduces my anxiety, it makes something striking travel down my spine.
Holy shit, I miss him.
I miss his lips on mine, the neck kisses he gives me, the things he says to me while he touches me and sends butterflies to my stomach.
The music shifts then, richer, more rhythmic. Laughter rises as people start leaving the table, drifting toward the makeshift dance floor near the edge of the garden, where an outdoor DJ has started to play something low and sensual.
Alex gets pulled into a conversation by someone across the table. I use that moment to slip away. Back into the house. Past the servants. Through the quiet halls. My shoes are too loud against the marble, the silence suddenly deafening after all the laughter and music outside.
I make it to the bathroom and close the door behind me, then grip the edge of the sink and breathe. My curls are starting to frizz from how much I’ve run my hands through them. I want to laugh at myself for thinking about Alexander like that. Please tell me how stupid I look right now.
Another wave of nausea rolls through me, sharp and fast. I grip the sink tightly and squeeze my eyes shut. Breathe, Lucas. Breathe. I let in a deep breath and slowly let it out through my nose, then wipe my clammy hands against my pants and reach for the door.
When I open it, he’s standing there.
Alex.
Tall, silent, unbothered—and his eyes are on me, locked in, like he’s been waiting. Like he knows something’s wrong.
We just… stare.
And suddenly, all I can think of is her.
Vera. Her skin against his. Her lips on his. The way she talked about him, so casually, like he was hers. Like she knew parts of him I hadn’t even begun to touch. I imagine his hands on her body, the way they’d touched me in his penthouse. I imagine his mouth on her neck, her hips in his grip. I feel sick all over again.
“Do you want me to take you home?” he asks, his voice low, soft. It cuts through the mess in my head, but I don’t answer. I just stare at him, caught again by how stupidly, cruelly handsome he is. Everything about him makes my chest hurt.
“Lucas—”
“Show me your room.”
The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them.
I immediately want to pass out.
His room? What the hell, Lucas?
His brow lifts slightly, and he tilts his head, studying me. The hallway feels way too quiet. Way too bright. I can feel the heat rushing up my neck, crawling into my face.
