“You’re done?” I reached for his elbow to make him look at me. “You’re breaking up with me?”
“I thought you were the smart one in the relationship. Yeah, I’m breaking up with you.” He turned on his heel and headed toward the poker table.
I stood there, my cheeks burning hot and my stomach twisting into knots. Fisting my hands, I plopped myself onthe bar stool and waved at the bartender. “Can I get a shot of tequila? Make it a double.”
I wanted to numb my senses. I wanted the burn of the liquor to wash down the lump in my throat. Most of all, I wanted to forget about Steve. I knocked back my drink as soon as the bartender set it down. Then I asked for another.
A while later, there were two bartenders. They were blurry. And I couldn’t really understand what they were saying. “Mrs. Moretti, I went ahead and called you a car. It’s waiting downstairs. It will take you wherever you need.” He braced his hand under my elbow and propped me up.
To my surprise, I was fairly steady on my feet as he ushered me to the elevators, through the lobby, and then the street. As soon as the fresh air hit my face, I got a second wind. “I can take it from here. I’m fine now.” I pushed him away from me.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Go. Get out of here.” I waved him away, then got distracted by how fast my hand was moving, like I had many hands.
“Of course, your car is right there. The black coupe.” He pointed up ahead at the two cars.
I closed one eye and the double vehicles became a single one. Okay, I was officially piss drunk. Time to go home. “Thanks.” I waved at the bartender again.
He nodded and went back inside. If this was the local bar in Bensonhurst, I’d be mortified. The goody two-shoes Vendetti girl getting wasted would probably make the front page of the Sunday paper. But this fancy place? I was sure I would never see anyone here again. I mademy way to the black car, stumbling a few times. I didn’t remember the sidewalk being so uneven.
I climbed in and collapsed on the soft leather. The coolness of it made the space spin slower. Oh, fuck. Maybe the tequila shots were not such a good idea.
“I beg your pardon.” The driver shifted his body to look at me.
Or was he glowering. I squinted at him. “You talk funny. The two of you.” I laughed. And then I couldn’t stop laughing.
“What are you doing in my car?” His British accent made me think of Declan Winston Noble, my soon-to-be boss, London’s most eligible bachelor, and as of late, the protagonist of all my dirty fantasies.
I smiled at him. “Wow, are all English men this hot? You look just like my boss. So hot, so delicious, so lickable.” I laid my head on the seat again because now the face of my boss was everywhere in the car. Not to mention that his sultry voice and sexy accent were doing things to me that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
“Oh, bloody hell.” His angry voice was the last thing I heard before everything went pitch black.
3
DON’T CRY, SWEET GIRL
Declan
“Bloody hell.” I raked my fingers through my hair and peeked at Sally, who, justifiably so, was shooting daggers at me.
“What the fuck, Declan? You invited her?”
“Sally.”
“Callie.”
“Right. Callie.” I waved my hand in dismissal. “Not that it matters, but I obviously didn’t invite her.”
Callie shook her head at me, crossing her arms over her ample chest. Her tits did a little bounce. A few months back, I would’ve pounced on that. Maybe even let the girl in the back seat join in. Lately, though, I just wasn’t feeling it anymore.
“She obviously knows you. She called you Declan.” She furrowed her brows.
I recognized the look in her eyes. Shit. This was why Inever slept with the same woman twice. Callie was jealous of a total stranger. I got that a drunk girl in the back seat of my car wasn’t a good look for me, but I didn’t owe Callie anything. I only agreed to leave the club with her because I didn’t want to go home to an empty condo. I leaned back and cut a glance over to the mop of hair sprawled on the white leather of my Bentley Coupe and my first thought was: Fuck me, I hope she doesn’t throw up on the brand-new carpet.
I slow blinked. What had my life become? The bar scene was getting old.Iwas getting old. At thirty-two, I should have more to show for myself.
“Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Callie shoved my shoulder. “Either she goes, or I go.”
