I don’t like the volatile way he’s shifting around, like any second he could lash out. Small hairs prick sensitively all over my body, fight-or-flight priming me.
“You’re pretending to be Markus Kirby, aren’t you?”
He bites his lip for a second, sighing. “Maybe,” he says. “Would that really be such a bad thing, hmm?”
I gaze at him as disbelief gallops through me. “Yes, it would. It’s weird, Adam. Why the heck are you pretending to be a sponsor? To lure me here? To—what? I don’t understand.”
He licks his lip now, instead of biting it, which just makes him look all the weirder. “Because we’re due a second date, Grace,” he croons.
“What!” I snap, darting forward and aiming a forefinger at him. “Aseconddate? We haven’t even had a first date! Jesus Christ, Adam, do you have any idea how manipulative and messed-up this is? Wait a second … you kept calling me when I was talking to Gemma, your cousin … why?”
He flinches, an expression of panic capturing his features.
“Why didn’t you want me talking to your cousin about Harry, Adam?” I snap. “Is it because you’re a liar? Is it because he doesn’t treat her as terribly as you want me to believe?”
His head sags. He’s blinking back tears, I notice, causing a shard of absurd guilt to stab me in the chest.
Finally, he looks up at me and shakes his head slowly. A bitter look flits across his eyes. I swear to fricking God, it’s like a Jekyll and Hyde routine.
“Who exactly do you think Harry Hadley is, Grace? Do you think he’s some paragon of fucking virtue? Haven’t you ever read a British tabloid? Didn’t you see what he was like in his soccer career? He was a goddamnfiend, chasing pussy every chance he got. That’s who you’re falling for. A user.”
I shake my head fiercely, my thoughts about Harry becoming a confused inextricable tangle.
On the one hand, Adam’s right, because heliedto me.
But then, at the same time, I did read the tabloids. I couldn’t help myself.
After a few drinks with Kelly, I’d navigate to the tabloid site and let myself drink in images of Harry Hadley caught in some club.
And it wasn’t how Adam described it.
If anything, he had this haunted look in his eyes, as if he didn’t even want to be there, as if he was searching for … me?
I almost laugh at the thought. It’s so silly.
It’s so out of place, especially with everything that’s changed.
“You’re trying to twist me again, Adam,” I snap.
“It shouldn’t be hard!” he yells, stamping his foot like a petulant child. “He really isn’t the man you think he is.”
I fold my arms, glaring at him. “Answer me this, then. Are you Gemma’s cousin? Because it’s pretty suspicious, you calling and calling me as soon as you see me talking to her.”
“Of course I’m her cousin,” he mutters, eyes darting all over the place like skittish rodents.
“You’re a drugged-up liar, Adam,” I hiss. “I’m so sick and tired of being played.”
Adam steps forward, his nostrils flaring as he bunches his hands into fists. His arms bulge pathetically. He looks like a balloon about to either pop or deflate. He looks pathetic.
And he looks sort of intimidating, too, which bothers the heck out of me.
What right does he have to try and intimidate me?
On the other side of the bar, the barman has laid aside his stinky rag to fold his arms across his chest, causing his used-to-be-white apron to stretch taut over his bulging belly. His narrow eyes aim at the scene we’re making like lasers.
“Don’t talk about drugs,” he snaps. “Don’t throw accusations like that around. I’m not in the fucking mood.”
“Ooh,” I say sarcastically, raising my hands and mock shivering. “It looks like I’ve found your sore point, huh? What is it, Adam, you like to get drugged up and intimidate women? You’re pathetic. I can’t believe I ever saw you as a kind boy.”
