Page 27 of Twisted Truth

“Thank you,” Ella gasps. “Oh, my god. He was starting to scare me.”

“Are you okay?”

She nods. “I’m fine now. I just hate when men won’t listen! I hate that they can’t get it through their thick skulls that I don’t want to be felt up by a stranger.”

She also sways slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good.”

A flash of light catches my attention from the corner of my eye. A phone recording me. Of course. Of fucking course. The woman holding the phone probably recorded the whole interaction. At least I didn’t punch the guy, which is what I really wanted to do, but this is a good reminder of why this entire night is a bad idea.

“Let’s go, I’m done,” I say to Ella.

She scrunches her nose in that cute way again. “Go? We just got here. And we haven’t, um, accomplished our goal.”

I can’t help it, a small smile tugs at my lips. Even in her half-drunken state she has the mind to not say what we’re doing here out loud. It’s oddly endearing.

“I don’t care anymore. This is a wasted effort.”

“Ella?” One of the women she was dancing with walks toward us. “Are you okay? I saw that guy and was trying to get to you, but then you disappeared.”

“I’m fine.”

The woman eyes me appreciatively. “Who’s this?”

“This is the head of the company I work for. Asher Langford.”

The woman perks up, and her eyes go wide. “Oh, hi! I’veheard such great things about you. I’m an old college friend of Ella’s. Amber Branson.”

Ella turns to me and gives me a bright smile, encouraging me. I lean in close to her ear. “Did you invite her here tonight? And the others you were with?”

Ella nods. “I didn’t say why, obviously, I was just really pushy about meeting up with them and mentioned that it was a work thing and you’d probably be here. That was enough.” She giggles. “We all danced together on the university’s dance company together. Two of them work in corporate America like me, and two of them are professional dancers. And they’re all beautiful, perfect candidates.”

No wonder the group of them dance like a hoard of vixens. But for some reason, the thought of Ella reaching out to her beautiful dancer friends to lay before my feet makes my stomach curdle. I don’t want her friends. And I don’t want her arranging for her friends to come meet me. Another flash of anger courses through me. Five minutes ago, I would have probably appreciated her gesture. But now that Matthew has planted the idea of Ella taking on this role in my head, I can’t see any other options, and a possessive energy buzzes through me.

I’m definitely ready to get the hell out of here.

“It was lovely to meet you,” I say to the woman. “But we are leaving. Have a good night.”

“Oh,” the woman says, frowning. She turns and gives a strange look to Ella.

“Let’s go,” I say to Ella, taking her hand in mine.

She gives a quick goodbye to her friend, and I lead her away from the dance floor.

“What’s going on?” she asks me.

“We’re leaving. I told you, I’m done.”

“But . . . but I thought we were here to . . .”

“Change of plans.”

Robert has already called Andrew, my driver, and Matthew is behind us. I keep Ella’s hand firmly in mine, afraid she’ll be swept away in the moving bodies as we head to the entrance, but as we make our way across the room, I notice more flashes of light, more pictures being snapped, more videos being taken. I’ve got to get us out of here.

“Mr. Langford, your driver is out front,” a big bouncer says as I near the front of the club. “Some paparazzi have arrived; I’ll help escort you out.”

I haven’t even been here for forty-five minutes and the paparazzi are already here.