Alek stood in a black coat, his face carved from ice. Behind him, Eva appeared in pajamas, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, makeup gone. She looked younger than the woman at the gala, and when she saw me, pity flickered across her face.
“Thanks for taking care of him,” Alek said.
Declan shrugged. “You owe me one.”
I couldn’t look at her, couldn’t stand her seeing me like this—drunk, bloody, pathetic.
“Get up,” Alek growled.
I tried. Failed. The world tilted sideways.
“Bozhe moi,” Alek muttered, crossing to haul me to my feet. “You’re a mess.”
Eva examined my face. “Split lip, possible broken nose, definitely bruised ribs.” Her voice was flat. “You need x-rays.”
“No hospital,” I snapped.
“I wasn’t asking.” She was already pulling out her phone, texting someone.
“I fucking said no.”
Eva looked up at Alek, and I was so fucking jealous of the understanding that passed between them. They half-carried, half-dragged me to the exit. The cold air hit, and I threw up on the curb, Scotch and shame burning my throat.
Alek held my shoulders. Eva stepped back, arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.
When I was done, they guided me to Alek’s black SUV. Eva climbed in the front passenger seat. Alek buckled me into the back like I was a child.
“Don’t throw up in my car,” he said flatly.
Instead of answering, I looked at Eva. “What are you doing here?”
“She was with me,” Alek said simply, “and I wasn’t going to leave her alone while I fetched you.”
“Are you fucking kidding?—”
“Careful,” Alek snapped. “You will speak to Eva with respect, or?—”
“Or what?” I snapped, so fucking tired of games.
The rest of the drive passed in silence. I closed my eyes, willing the world to stop spinning, willing Eva to say something, anything.
She didn’t.
I hated this.
The vulnerability.
The weakness.
I was Colton fucking Carter, heir to Carter Industries, star of the hockey team, and a fucking asshole who kept hurting the people I cared about the most.
When we pulled up to Alek’s building, Tristan wasalready there, waiting by the entrance in pajama pants and a sweatshirt, an overnight bag over his shoulder.
“Eva texted me,” he said simply when I stumbled out of the car.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“You should be.” But he got under my other arm and helped Alek get me inside.