“Was that as painful for you as it was for me?” she asks as I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her in close.
“That was off the charts, but at least we did it and survived.” We sway in time to the music, and I feel several sets of eyes glued to my back. “How soon do you think we can bail?”
“In a hurry to get someplace?” She toys with the fine hairs on the back of my neck.
My muscles lock up. “What are you doing?”
“Making this look real,” she whispers, drilling me with a “get with the program” look.
We dance in time to the music, and I try to loosen my tense muscles, but there isn’t a part of me that isn’t on edge.
“Relax, Sawyer. You look like you’ve got a poker shoved up your ass. I know what this is. I’ve always known. I was under no illusion when Dad arranged our first date.”
“You know why I’m doing this. Why are you?”
“I have my reasons,” she cryptically replies.
I spin her around before drawing her back in close to my body. “Such as?”
“He’ll cut me off unless I do this. He doesn’t believe anyone will want to marry me unless they are coerced into it, so this is his solution.” Unhappiness ghosts over her face. “I’d love to tell him to stick his money and his antiquated ideals and to take his interfering ass out of my life, but I don’t fancy sleeping on the streets, and without his money, I’m broke.”
“What about your job?” She told me on one of our first dates that she worked the reception desk in a real estate agency.
“I got fired.” She shrugs, shimmying her hips as the song changes. “I’ll get another one, but it’s not like it’ll pay enough to sustain me in independence. A degree in languages doesn’t qualify me to do much. This seemed like an easier way of handling things.” She presses her chest flush against mine, and if I looked down, I’d probably see all the goods. “I figure we can stick it out for a year or two and then file for divorce. I’ll use the time to figure out what I want to do with my career, and with the prenup settlement, I’ll be able to fly solo. Herman Shaw can suck dick for all I care.”
I bark out a laugh. “How does someone who looks so elegant curse like a sailor?”
“I have two older brothers and the majority of my youth was spent around bodyguards who cussed nonstop. Practically every second word that came out of their mouths was fuck.” She shrugs. “It rubbed off. Daddy hates it, so that’s an added bonus.” She winks, and it’s hard not to appreciate how gorgeous she is.
My cell vibrates in my pocket, and an ominous sense of dread creeps up my spine.
“You should get that. Unless you’re purposely going for that constipated look?” Sydney teases.
Bile swims up my throat when I see Xavier’s name flashing on the screen. “I’ve got to take this.” I slip my cell back in my pocket as I lead her off the dance floor.
“I’m cool. Go speak to your woman. I’ll be at the table when you return. I’ll say you needed a bathroom break.”
I don’t correct her assumption. “Thanks.” I squeeze her hand, grateful I’m fake engaged to Sydney and not some stuck-up bitch with delusions of grandeur. Sydney knows the score. She’s cool, and she’s on the same page. I’m feeling more confident I can make this work.
Until I head outside and answer Xavier’s call.
“You’re fucking engaged?” he screeches before I’ve had time to get a word in. “And I had to find out via social media?”
“I told you to stay off social media!”
“If you genuinely meant that, then you shouldn’t have mentioned it! Your message was like waving a red flag in my face. Don’t you know me at all?”
“Don’t try and turn this around on me.”
“Fuck you, Sawyer. Don’t you dare try to blame any of this on me. The news is everywhere and my phone’s blowing up with messages from everyone.” Hurt bleeds from his words, and I feel like the biggest piece of shit to walk the planet. He’s right too. Xavier loves pressing my buttons. If I tell him not to do something, he is almost guaranteed to do the opposite.
“I’m sorry.” I force the words from my mouth. Because I loathe them, not that I don’t mean them. Those two words have got to be the most overused words in the world. Or at least some of them. I make it a point not to utter them unless they are justified.
Like now.
“Oh, look at that. The mighty Sawyer Hunt has apologized. Now I’m shitting rainbows and farting unicorns. All is right in the world because my boyfriend has finally said sorry, but you know what, Hunt? It’s not fucking good enough!” he roars, and I hold the cell away from my ear. “I am sick of being treated like shit by you. This is the final straw.”
“You just need to let me explain. I—"
“I don’t need to let you do anything!” he yells. “I am done, Hunt. I am so fucking done. Have a nice life. Give my commiserations to Sydney. Poor bitch has no clue what she’s just signed up for.”
Before I can say a word, he hangs up, and I lean back against the wall, wondering how the fuck I am going to fix this.
3
Sawyer
“I’ll have another,” I tell the bartender, ignoring the fuck-me eyes he levels in my direction. Sometimes, I wonder if I have bi stamped on my forehead, or if people just like the challenge I present. It’s not like I deliberately look for people to hit on me. A lot of people are intimidated by the cold, guarded indifference I wear like a cloak, but there are others who are drawn to it like they can’t help themselves. Human nature fascinates me as much as it aggravates me. Some days, I really hate people, and it’s those days I like to lock myself away and ignore the outside world.
“Drowning your problems in whiskey won’t make them go away,” Jackson says, sipping the same beer he’s been drinking since we arrived at the club. “I should know.”
“Don’t lecture me, Lauder. I’m not in the mood.” I knock back my drink, enjoying the bitter warmth as it glides down my throat. I’m glad my buddy called me after his wife, Van, spotted an article online confirming the engagement. While he’s currently giving me shit, I would rather not drown my sorrows alone.
“What if someone takes a pic?” Jackson asks, casting a wary look around. “The groom out drinking himself into a coma the night of his engagement party would not go down well with the folks.” The first thing I did when we got here was tell Jackson everything that is happening with Techxet so he understands why I’m going through with this sham of a marriage.
I wave my hands around. “Look around. It’s a dive bar. No one gives a shit who I am in here. They’re too busy fucking, smoking, or drinking to notice.” I’m not sure I believe my own words, but I’m not ready to leave yet. Not until I’ve obliterated all ability to think.
“I still can’t believe it, man.” Jackson shakes his head. “No wonder Xavier was upset. I was shocked as shit when I read the article.”