But if she’s willing to give me her time, that’s a different story.
“Are you a Knights of the Night fan?” I mean, there’s the sports and art stuff here, or maybe she got really into puppets over the years.
She blinks at me and raises her eyebrow, “Why else would I be here? Damn memorabilia. I’m so pissed I’ll be missing the fan event tonight.”
Mentally I pump my fist and do a little dance, but outwardly I try to keep it cool. “Which story arc is your favorite?”
“Pirate King, obviously.”
“Everyone loves him, but I think the Fae storyline is underrated and is about to pay off. Why else would they spend so much time on it?”
She pushes her hair off her shoulder, and memories of my lips moving from that sensitive spot up her neck flood my brain. Does she still do those quiet mewing moans and squirms when she’s being tickled?
I roll my earbuds around the palm of my hand, trying to focus on anything else. Then slide them into my pocket where I feel something. Paper? I pull it out and turn it over in my hand.
Showing her the QR code, I ask, “Any idea what you’re supposed to do with this?”
“Each QR code is linked to an account and that’s how you bid.”
The music stops playing as the host comes on to the microphone, “Thank you all for coming. Tonight you’re in for some great entertainment, excellent food and an evening with the rarest memorabilia this side of Hollywood. The bidding starts now and closes at 10 pm. The auction is on a local server, so don’t go too far, but drink up and spend your money.” The audience laughs.
“The bidding is online? Do you even need to be in this hellhole to do the auction?” Any joy that was on her face vanishes as she adds, “I don’t even need to be here?”
“Are you sticking around?” I try to sound casual.
“I guess.” She shrugs. “I have to, since we can’t leave the hotel and they did say there would be food and drinks.”
“Great.” I flash the smile I’ve been trying to hold back since I saw her. This could be the best night of my life.
CHAPTER 5
Alana
This is the worst night of my life. I mean realistically, I’ve been shot, buried my friends and had generally other traumatic things happen to me, but still, this has to be in the top twenty. For twelve years I’ve systematically avoided Grae. I rearranged my schedule, bailed on seeing Lena, hell, I hid in a bathtub once just so he wouldn’t see me. I heard him piss and everything. So to run into him tonight is a bit of a slap in the face.
He wasn’t on the guest list. It was supposed to be Craig without Amanda. I’ve been at a few events around Craig, but he’s never met me, and I’d like to keep it that way. When it comes to Amanda Chase and her personal life, I like to stay at least six hundred feet away. It’s better for both of us.
But now because of Hadeon being a thoughtful husband, boom—I’m face to face with my ex. Who apologized like he had been playing the moment over in his head. He meant it with his whole being. I’ve been living near Grae adjacent long enough to tell if he’s lying. Spoiler, he doesn’t. He closes his mouth or withholds information but doesn’t flat out lie.
I’ve been waiting for him to say those words. They didn’t exactly heal wounds that had long scarred over, but it was still nice.
And does he have to look so good? The well-trimmed stubble, perfectly styled hair and a suit that was formed for his athletic body. I’ve seen pictures, and I know he’s stupid attractive, but come on. Was it necessary for him to flash me his panty-melting smile? Worst part, I don’t even think he realizes what it does to me. He was just being him. It’s almost impossible to reconcile the man who spoke to me minutes ago and the man who destroyed me when we were teens.
No, I’ve got other things I need to do. Focus on winning the damn script. I eye up the crowd. The finance guys won’t be an issue, but it's the tech bros that have me worried. I know a few of these guys, and they’re loaded and geeky.
I search for a waiter with food, and all I find is someone walking around with shot glasses of cream of crab soup. Nothing says spend thousands of dollars like a shot glass of thick soup. Ugh, this evening is the fucking worst.
“Hey, wanna come back to my hotel room?” The request is jarring enough, but to have it whispered behind my back by my ex is downright earth shaking.
“What?” I whip around—no need to hide my confused outrage.
He steps back and puts his hands up. “Shit! Not like that.” His voice drops to a humble whisper, “I don’t deserve any of the time you’ve already given me.” He digs through his pants pocket and shows me his phone screen. “I got a room so I could watch some of the Fan Fest without being bothered by other people. The QR codes work in the hotel rooms, I checked.”
“Oh.” My shoulders relax, and I breathe. When he notices the shift in my expression, he changes. He continues in a way that is both casual and tries to ease any concerns I might have. And I have so many.
“It’s a suite with a living room space and a closed door to the bedroom. There’s a couch and a chair. You don’t need to sit anywhere near me. I won’t touch you.” He motions to the space between us, “This is the closest I’ll be all night.”
Internally I smirk because he’s right. He is offering a much better evening than this event. His eyes drift over the crowd, then he narrows them and a sneer crawls across his lips. “Um, is that a shot glass of cream of corn soup?”
