by Sybil Bartel
He’d turned the old GMC around and was halfway down my driveway before I realized what he’d done.
He’s purposely left me alone on my own goddamn mountain.
PULLING INTO THE QUEUE, TAPPING the steering wheel, I wasn’t nervous by the time the valet opened my door, I was a fucking wreck.
I used to walk into a room like I owned it. An event like this wouldn’t have made me blink twice. I’d strut in, find the bar, order a drink I was too young for, and give the proverbial middle finger to the rules.
I used to dominate parties like this… when I’d been high.
Walking in sober was a new dimension of suck and I hated it.
“Miss Amherst,” the valet greeted, smiling at me like he knew me despite my new hair color.
“Keep it close,” I ordered before adding, “Please.” Trying not to be a bitch was proving harder than quitting most everything else from the old me. “I won’t be long.”
“Of course.” He handed me a ticket.
I handed him a twenty.
“Thank you.” He smiled like he meant it, and it reminded me of those kids at the hospital last week.
It was the kick I needed.
This night wasn’t about me. It was about those kids, suffering through shit so much worse than anything I’d ever had to deal with, I had no right to bitch about a stupid case of nerves. I told myself to suck it up. If a child in the middle of chemo could smile about a visit from me and a stuffed animal, I could walk into a party and play nice with potential donors.
I told myself I could do this. But then the doorman held the brass and glass door open, and I was pretty sure I was going to hyperventilate.
One hour, Summer. Suck it up.
The pep talk not helping, my hands shaking, I was clammy everywhere. Nervous in my form-fitting gold dress that was two sizes bigger than what I used to wear, not wanting to see anyone I used to party with, I somehow managed to square my shoulders and walk into the trendy boutique hotel.
The entire place having been rented out for the evening just for this event, the two-story lobby was set up with three bars. Music played at a perfect level to mask background noise as South Beach’s wealthiest mingled everywhere.
Holding the matching clutch Fallon had sent over with the dress, I silently thanked her for giving me something to keep my hands occupied as I scanned the room. When I saw Fallon up the stairs on the second level, my heart dropped.
“Fantastic,” I muttered.
The Cowboy bodyguard. The one I’d hit on when I was out of my mind high. The one Fallon had slept with, and apparently was still sleeping with if his possessive arm around her waist was any indication.
As if sensing someone was watching him, Thomas looked up. His gaze met mine and he tipped his chin.
“I fucking hate myself,” I gritted out with a fake smile as I gave a short wave. Rethinking sobriety, I turned toward the nearest bar.
Ten paces in six-inch heels that were a challenge even for me, I exhaled when an empty spot at the bar materialized. Ignoring the stool because I wasn’t sure I could sit in this dress, I caught the bartender’s eye.
Around my age, dark hair, blue eyes, perfect features—he was too pretty to be here coincidentally. I didn’t know shit about charities, but I knew drunk people parted with money more than sober people did. And drunk people probably really parted with money when a bartender looked like him.
He bestowed me with a movie worthy smile. “What can I get you, beautiful?”
A year ago I would’ve said the coke he inevitably had on him, and a vodka cranberry. Thank fuck the idea of something making my heart race even faster right now wasn’t on my top ten list. Yay rehab. “Pellegrino with lime.”
“Coming right up.”
The bartender moved off to get my drink and I felt the air shift next to me a second before I smelled a familiar scent.
“Congratulations, princess,” a deep voice I knew intimately coasted past my ear as his breath landed on my bare shoulder.
My heart leapt, my stomach bottomed out and I grabbed for the edge of the bar before I fainted.
I turned my head.
Sebastiano Hades Domani.
Shade.
In a tux.
My mouth suddenly dry, a lump in my throat too big to swallow past, I didn’t know if I wanted to cry, slap him, or fall into his arms and beg him to take me out of here.
His left eyebrow lifted as his right lowered. “You managed to get me in monkey suit.” He winked. “No woman’s done that before.”
No tie, shirt open at the neck, graze wound halfway healed, tattoos peeking out, shoulders filling out the custom fit jacket, his hair slicked back, his five o’clock shadow more than a day’s growth, but less than a beard—oh my fucking God.
He was stunning.
And everything that made my heart ache.
“What are you doing here?” I managed to get him in a tux? How?
“Didn’t you hear?” His gaze stayed locked on mine, but it felt like he was looking down the entire length of my body and drinking me in.
My heart trying to beat out of my chest, I wondered if you could die from want. “Hear what?” I needed to remember why I was angry with him, not to mention the way he’d tossed me aside.
The bartender came back and set my drink in front of me. “Here you go, Pellegrino with lime. Can I get you anything else, beautiful?”
Self-preservation demanded I remember how cold Shade could be. “No, thank you,” I told the bartender.
The bartender smiled at me before looking to Shade. “Sir? What can I get you?”
“Maker’s Mark, neat, and if you call her beautiful again, I’ll wipe the bar with your face.” His voice dark, every stupid sexy thing about him was dangerous and dominant and maddeningly sexy.
Even the way he told the bartender to fuck off was sexy. I was screwed. So fucking screwed.
Without missing a beat, the bartender’s expression sobered. “Understood, sir, and your drink’s coming right up.” The bartender took off.
Focusing all his attention on me, Shade leaned an arm on the bar and frowned. “That okay?”
“Is what okay?” That he was an ass to the bartender? That he was here? No, none of it was okay. Not even remotely. He’d had his fun, then he’d kicked me to the curb as sure as if he’d branded teenager playtime over on my forehead.
“The bourbon.” He nodded toward the shelf of bottles behind the bar.
“Don’t patronize me.” I was drinking a fucking seltzer because this was a charity event. I was driving, and this was the new and improved me. Not that I wasn’t hating every single minute of it. Maybe I should’ve ordered the vodka cranberry after all. “Why are you here?” I wasn’t going to allow myself, not even for a second, to entertain the thought that he’d come here for me. I didn’t know this man, no more than the small glimpses he’d allowed me to see, but I knew enough to realize he didn’t chase women. He didn’t have to.
His frown deepened and his gaze wandered to the room. “Luna didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
His dark eyes cut back to me. “Did you look around the room?”
The bartender set Shade’s drink in front of him. “Here you go, sir. Anything else?”
“No.” Despite being a dick a minute ago, Shade still slid a bill across the bar.
The bartender palmed it. “Much appreciated.”
Shade nodded and picked up his drink, but he didn’t speak until the bartender was out of ear shot. “Conlon tailed you in.” He took a sip of his bourbon.
“What?” Ronan was following me? “Why?”
Holding the glass near his full lips, he tipped his chin toward the other bar. “Tyler’s got the room.”
I turned and looked. Tyler, another bodyguard who worked for André, was wearing a tux and standing to the side of one of the other bars as he vigilantly scanned the room.
Shade took a sip of his drink then subtly lifted his glass
first to the left, then right. “Ty’s on perimeter, Savatier’s covering the back.” Shade focused on me again. “Knight’s with Fallon, Talerco’s doing who the fuck knows what, and Luna’s emptying his wallet.” His intense gaze bored into me. “All for you, princess.” Finishing the rest of his drink in one swallow, his gaze left mine and he set his glass down. Then his voice turned as dark as his eyes. “All because of me.”
With a smile on her face I hadn’t seen before, Fallon approached. “Summer. You made it.” Color touched her cheeks as she looked over her shoulder. “You remember Thomas.”
Guilt ate at me. “Yeah, hi.”
“Summer.” Keeping his arm around Fallon, Thomas merely nodded at me but then held his hand out to Shade.
Without comment, the two over-muscled, overly dominant men shook hands. A strained silence fell over our group and Fallon clasped her hands in front of her.
That’s when I saw it.
A single diamond graced her left ring finger.
All at once, anger, hurt, jealously at her happiness, embarrassment at my past behavior, it all slammed into the shitstorm in my head and I wasn’t congratulating her, I was accusing her. “You’re engaged to him?”
Heat hit her cheeks and she opened her mouth, but it was Thomas that spoke.
“We’ve been engaged.” His arm tightened around her and she leaned into him. “She was respecting the fact that you were going through treatment, and she was waiting to tell you.”
“Treatment?” I practically spit at him. “Go ahead and say it, I was in rehab.”
Fallon flinched. “Summer—”
“No.” I put my hand up. “Don’t. You came to my place, you saw me, you took me to the Children’s Hospital. You had plenty of time to tell me.” I threw out every accusation and ounce of anger I had at her that had nothing to do with her or her engagement, and everything to do with me and my shit life.
“Princess,” Shade murmured, his hand landing on the small of my back.
Jerking out of his grasp, I spun on him. “Fuck you, Shade. Don’t touch me.” I glared back at the one person in my life who didn’t deserve a damn thing from me except respect, but I was so fucking hurt, I couldn’t see straight. “Congratulations, Fallon,” I bit out, sounding nothing like the grateful stepdaughter I should’ve been. “I’m happy for you. You deserve to be treated right.” I glared at Thomas. “Don’t fuck her over.”
I pivoted and aimed for the exit, never feeling more alone in my entire life than in that moment.
Drowning in pity, my eyes on my escape, I didn’t see him before it was too late.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, darlin’.” A strong arm cinched around my waist, my body was dragged against a hard wall of muscle and my feet practically left the ground. “Not so fast,” Talon breathed in my ear before nodding at some older couple staring at us. “Hey, how you doin’?” He spun us back toward the party.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I seethed. “I’m leaving. Put me down.”
His arm tightened as he chuckled. “Not yet you’re not.” Propelling me toward the opposite side of the lobby, he snagged two beers off a passing waiter’s tray. “Thanks man, I owe you.” Holding me firm, holding the two beers by the necks, Talon took us into the ballroom that was set up for dinner.
“Let me go,” I ground out, fighting in his grip.
“Not gonna lie, Seasons, you’re just like your mama,” Talon chuckled again.
“The name’s Summer, not Seasons you ass, and she’s not my mother.”
A grin spread across his face like he couldn’t contain himself. “Oh, you’re Seasons all right, darlin’. Hot like summer one minute, cold fury like winter the next. Yep.” He nodded as he kicked out a chair and unceremoniously dumped me in it. “Seasons.” Kicking out his own chair, he grinned at me. “Perfect nickname.” His smile disappeared and he sat facing me. Locking me in with his legs on either side of my knees, he held the beers close to his chest. “You got a problem with alcohol too or just drugs?”
“Fuck you.”
He handed me the beer. “Drink it.”
I crossed my arms.
“Or don’t.” He set my beer down on the table and took a long drag of his. “I kinda like a little winter every now and again.” He leaned back in his chair, casual as hell, and studied me.
Drinking his beer slowly, his pose relaxed with one arm resting on the table, everything about his body language was laid-back. But his eyes cut into me with the knowing precision of an interrogator and he stared at me like this was a standoff and he was winning.
Because he was.
I broke first. “What do you want?”
“You know what I find interestin’?” he asked, ignoring my question.
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.
“I’ll tell ya.” He pushed up in his chair, leaned toward me, and rested his arms on his knees. “Little miss hotheaded Seasons has got a certain Marine all up in arms out there.”
“Fuck Thomas.”
“I ain’t talkin’ ’bout Tripod, darlin’.”
“He’s talking about me,” Shade’s deep voice interrupted from behind us.
I jumped in my chair.
Talon smiled knowingly. “See what I mean? Cyborg’s shadowin’ you, darlin’.”
A chill swept across my shoulders. “Cyborg?” Did I want to know?
“Yeah, a little flesh, a little metal.” Talon grinned. “If you know, you know.” He winked.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Talerco. Get the fuck out of here.” Shade snatched the beer from where it sat in front of me and set it on a table behind us.
Talon rose with the strength of a warrior but the grace of a panther. Holding his beer up to me, he smiled with mischief. “To worthy causes.” He slapped Shade on the shoulder and stepped around us. “Wrap it up Cyborg. I’m already workin’ on a decade’s worth of hazing material if Tripod becomes your daddy-in-law.” Laughing, Talon walked out.
SHE STOOD TO FOLLOW.
Like a fucking tool, I grabbed her upper arm.
Sucking in a sharp breath, she looked up at me. “Let me go.”
Christ, she was pretty. “You didn’t ask why we’re all here tonight.” Scratch that, she was beautiful. Beautiful and deserved better than an asshole like me.
“I don’t need to. Fallon hired security.”
I smirked. “A ten thousand dollar a plate charity dinner with Miami Beach’s richest fucks doesn’t need six Force Recon Marines to keep it in check, princess. Knight could’ve handled anything that came up and he never even made it downrange.”
“So what’s your point?” she challenged.
I didn’t have a fucking point. That was the problem. Why the fuck did it matter why I was here, or why any of the L&A guys were for that matter. Who fucking cared that we’d all forked over ten grand in the name of charity because Fallon Amherst had balls of steel and a lethal silent temper when she’d found out her stepdaughter had been shot at on company time. Telling Luna he could make a solid appearance at her charity event, with guests, or talk to her lawyers about reckless endangerment or some shit, Luna had put out the call for anyone willing to step up.
I would’ve come anyway.
Except none of that shit mattered. Summer hadn’t once looked at me like she had up on the mountain, and that should’ve been a red fucking light, but like a fucking pussy I was still standing here, holding on to her goddamn arm like I could change a single thing about either one of us.
“Don’t be pissed at your stepmother.” It was weak excuse for following her in here after Talerco, that fuck, cornered her. Which, knowing him, he did just to get a rise out of me, the fucking bastard. Points for him, it’d worked.
“I didn’t ask you for family advice.”
“Maybe you should.” Her father didn’t give a fuck about her, especially now that she was damaged goods. That much was clear, but her stepmother sure as fuck gave a damn.
“What the hell is that supposed
to mean?” Summer yanked her arm out of my grasp. “You tossed me to the curb, but now you show up telling me how to live my life? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Fucking Christ, she was infuriating. “That’s what this is about? You think I tossed you aside?” Getting angrier by the second, I got in her face. “Sending you home was the right thing to do.” There was no goddamn power, for fuck’s sake.
“Yeah,” she scoffed. “And you always do the right thing.”
I didn’t lose my shit. A decade in the Marines, and I never fucking lost it. I didn’t panic. I didn’t make rash decisions, and I sure as hell never backed down from a firefight no matter what the odds were.
Adapt and overcome. Work the fucking problem. There was always a goddamn solution. But right now, my hand was twitching with the overwhelming urge to throttle her and I was so close to losing my mind, I could feel myself coming unglued.
The problem was I didn’t want to just strangle her, I wanted to fuck her.
I wanted to rip that tight-as-hell gold dress off her body and watch her tits bounce before I sucked the fuck out of her hard nipples. I wanted her so goddamn pent up that she was begging for it.
Because nothing short of seeing her fucking jones for a high only I could give her was going to tame the savage shit in my head. I wanted her tight little cunt so goddamn wet, that the second I rammed my hardware in her, she’d detonate.
But we were in a bullshit ballroom in the middle of a charity event with witnesses, and I couldn’t throw her over my shoulder and carry her the fuck out of here without causing a scene. Not that I gave a shit about causing a scene, but fuck me, I gave a shit about her.
“You’re right.” I knew she was being sarcastic with her last dig, but I didn’t give a shit. I was going to set her straight. “Where you’re concerned, I did do the right thing. The kitchen floor was riddled with bullets, windows were broken, there was no goddamn heat and a blizzard was raging. Getting you out of there was my priority.”