‘Hey…’ she whispers, fixing her clothes with trembling hands. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah.’ I keep my eyes down as I put myself back together – zip, button, buckle – each one a piece of armour sliding into place.
‘You could stay?’ she says, voice small in a way she never is. Correction: never was before Italy. ‘I know what we said, but it’s late and?—’
‘No.’ It comes out too harsh and I flinch when she does, guilt slicing through me.It ain’t her fault I’m broken. ‘I have to go,’ I soften.
‘I just thought…’ She twists her hands together, her vulnerability threatening every wall I just rebuilt. ‘Maybe we could… recharge for round two?’
She tries to sound playful, but I see the weakness behind it.
‘I can’t,’ I grit out. And it’s no lie. I planned my escape before I set foot inside her club. ‘My plane’s on standby.’
‘Itis?’
‘I’ve got a meeting in London at the crack of dawn.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, Tay. Really. Collins needs me to consult on some security crisis.’
She narrows her eyes. ‘Collins?’
‘Yes. Collins. What’s with the interrogation?’ I force a smirk, dragging my leather jacket off the back of the chair.
‘I love how you say the PM needs you like it’s an everyday thing.’
‘That’s because it is. Satisfied?’
‘Well…’ She lifts her chin, smoothing her hair back, eyes flashing. Feisty as fuck. Taylor Stone is back in the room, and I need to get out of here like yesterday. ‘I could be a littlemoresatisfied.’
Ha. A gruff laugh. ‘Hold that thought for when I see you in London.’
‘London,’ she echoes, arms folding under her breasts, intentionally lifting them into the equation, proving she doesn’t need red to play the devil. ‘And when exactly are we talking?’
I keep my gaze level, shrugging into my jacket. ‘I’ll drop by when you’re back.’
‘Okay, I’ll check my schedule and let you know.’
Her schedule? I almost laugh for real. It’s cute she thinks I don’t already have access to it.
‘You do that.’ I pull open the door, grip it tight as I fight the urge to kiss her goodbye. ‘Night, Baby Girl.’
She leans against the frame, waving softly. ‘Bye, Ax.’
I force myself forward – one step, then another – into the safety of the bar.
Music.
Laughter.
Bodies.
None of it touches me.
All I see, all Ifeel, is her. Taylor. Watching me leave. Pulling me back.
My body tightens instantly.
