She’s across the room and I wonder if she can hear the way my heartbeat kicks up whenever I see her. Her strength displayed in the way she holds herself, tall despite being short in stature, able to look down her nose at men twice her height. She’s more relaxed right now, one of her legs slung over the other, making the slit in her dress more pronounced, a hand on the coup glass I know is filled with some flavor of seltzer water.Probably the expensive stuff she ordered for this mystery VIP guest.
Her face doesn’t carry the worry it had earlier today, when the flowers and note were discovered. She throws her head back and laughs, loud and unrestrained. When she turns her head to the side, I see her smile. It’s one I know well, only coming out when we watch her trash tv shows and she gives me all the details I missed in previous seasons of who hates who, or when I talk like the Swedish chef while I prepare dinner. Then her small hand reaches out and touches a forearm. A well-defined forearm.
My head ping-pongs between her smile and her hand resting casually on this stupid manly forearm.
Who the fuck is gettingmysmile. That’s my smile, I’ve only ever seen it when she’s with me. Alone.
My. Smile.
Who has forearms that big, anyway? You know who has stupid, veiny forearms? Porn stars. Why the fuck is she touching a porn star?
“Oh wow, are you okay? You look like you might be sick,” Tessa asks, concern laced through her question.
Correct, Tessa. I can feel the bile rising in my throat as I peel my eyes away from her hand touching the rippling forearm to see who the dead man attached to it is.
He’s older than us, a little silver peppering his temples and trimmed beard, which does nothing to hide his sharp jaw line and high cheekbones. He’s dressed casually, but impeccably, in a black henley t-shirt with the top button undone, a silver watch on one wrist and the other draped over the back of his chair as he turns to face Harper more fully, ignoring the performance in front of him entirely.
Rude fuck.
Harper usually greets VIP members when they arrive, maybe checking in on them during the evening, but never sitting down to chat. She hates chit chat. She hates having to pretend to smile and nod along with whatever boring drivel they spout at her, but she doesn’t look like she hatesthisVIP.
He leans forward, his fingers moving the few strands of hair that escaped behind her ear so he can get unnecessarily close to whisper against her cheek.
My feet are moving before I can contemplate a plan, the only thing I know is that he’s touching what’s mine. I don’t need a plan. I need a weapon. Harper lifts her hand to cover her perfectly painted lips to stifle a laugh at whatever Mr. tall, dark and dead said to her, leaning back into his seat as I come up to stand behind their chairs.
“Oh good! Colton, I wanted to introduce you to an old friend, Grant Darling. Grant this is Colton.” Harper says, once she’s stopped giggling long enough to notice I’m here. She says it so calmly, like what is happening is completely normal, like she isn’t stabbing a knife into my chest as she puts a hand on his shoulder.
She’s so comfortable with him, a calmness to her that I’ve only ever heard when she talks with Sadie, but there is something more, an admiration in the way she looks at him. It’s warm and affectionate. It’sloving.
She doesn’t look at me like that. She looks at me with lustand desire, she comes to me for safety and laughter, but she doesn’t look at me like I hang the moon.
He holds his hand out to me, “So you’re the famous Colton, I’ve heard so much about you, pleasure to finally meet you.”
I stare at his hand, the same hand that brushed along her cheek a moment ago, the same hand I see in my head touching her and holding her, blurring reality and nightmare.
“Colton?” Harper asks from next to me, but I keep staring at his hand, contemplating all the ways I could remove it from his body.
I’ve gotten to seven different possibilities, when he pulls his hand back, “Not a handshake guy, no problem.”
“You aren’t allowed to have your phone on the floor.” I gesture to the cell phone placed on the table before him. “It should have been taken from you when you entered. My apologies for the oversight, Ms. Mathers,” I say to Harper, my eyes connecting with Grant’s for the first time. My apology is for her, but the acknowledgement that he isn’t respecting the rules is forhim. Thinking he’s above them because of whatever his relationship is with Harper. Not today.
He wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb as a smirk forms. “I like you, Colton, I really do. Unfortunately, I think right now I might be the only one who does.” He nods to Harper, who is glaring at me. He’s ignoring her rules and talking through performances, butI’mgetting a death glare?
“Colton—” Harper starts, but she doesn’t get far before Grant reaches over and squeezes her hand on the table.
“It’s fine, Harper. I have to get going, anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he asks with a raised brow, my vision going red.
“She’s busy,” I answer at the same time Harper says, “Absolutely.”
She smiles at him, giving his hand a quick pulse back before she stands from the table, her attention finally falling onme, her shift in demeanor evident as her smile drops in the blink of an eye. “Colton, a word, please.Now.”
She moves through the floor, but not leading me to her office, instead choosing to go towards the hallway where the private rooms sit. She opens the door to the “Hall of Mirrors” room and gestures for me to enter.
I’ve been in this room a handful of times, the basics of all the rooms are the same, but this one is my favorite. The large leather couch in this room sits in the dead center, encompassed by walls of angled mirrors, making sure your vision is constantly surrounded by the object of your desire.
I don’t need mirrors to constantly see Harper. She has invaded every corner of my mind until everything else has become background noise. Now, it feels like too much, unable to hide from the jealousy coursing through me as my insecurity is reflected back at me.
“Why are we in here?” I ask.