"Yeah. Me too." I didn't mean to sound so sketchy about it. I really was glad. Just nervous, too.
"Speaking of dates, this is my wife Daisy," he said, gesturing to a petite blonde with bobbed hair. "She just talked me and Frank into going off in search of more cream puffs."
"And more of those grilled shrimp kebabs," she added, eagerly.
"And shrimp kebabs. Got it. Would you like to add anything to the order, Sabrina?"
"No, thank you. You can take my empty, though, if you like." I handed him my champagne glass, which I'd been carrying around for the last several minutes even though it had nothing in it.
"Sure thing. We'll be back." He took off with Frank, Roxie's husband, in tow.
As soon as they were gone, Daisy's infectious smile disappeared. "So. Sabrina. Tom's been with Reach since it opened. Worked his way up from the bottom. Then you came in and stole that top position right from under his nose. By all rights, that promotion should have been his. And now we find out you’re sleeping with one of the main men? That's not fishy at all."
Every muscle in my body tensed. My throat felt like I’d swallowed a desert instead of Moscato.
"Not just one of the main men," Roxie added. "I still say she and Weston were together to begin with."
I gaped, unsure what to say. I wanted to defend myself, defend my talent and resume, but nothing they said was untrue.
And I'd expected this might be a problem, but not from Tom Burns. Not from his wife. Not from Roxie. She was supposed to be my friend!
"I'm so sorry, Ms. Burns,” I stammered. “I didn't—"
Daisy suddenly burst into laughter. "I'm just fucking with you. You should've seen your face." Roxie joined in the hysterics.
"Then … you’re not mad at me?" I was confused. Relieved, but confused.
"Mad?" She shook her head, her hair bouncing as she did. "I'm grateful. Tom wanted that promotion, but we have three kids. I would never have seen him, and I didn't want to be a single parent. I’m grateful they found someone competent instead of persuading him to make the jump. And Tom says you're good! Glad to see more women in those exec positions. Congratulations!”
Roxy was still laughing. "Her face. Her face!"
And now I was laughing a bit too. "Thank you. I think."
"I bet you get those kinds of comments all the time," Daisy said. "I should know. I work in an office with all men myself. Real estate. Men don't think we know how to sell anything except our bodies, am I right? But I have the second-highest sales in my team this year. Look at us go!" She patted me on the arm, as though we were old chums now.
"Go us!" I said awkwardly. I liked her. Despite her strange teasing and the fact that it was hard to get a word in edgewise, she was spunky and fun. I was neither. It was always nice to find common ground with someone different.
"If anyone gives you a hard time about dating that fine piece of Kincaid—which all the ladies are jealous about, by the way—don't you even listen to them. You do you, girl. Stand up proud knowing that you deserve to be where you are." Her eyes scanned the crowd as she talked. "Roxie, Frank got distracted by the fondue again. If we want our food, we’re going to have to go get it ourselves.”
With Roxie and Daisy gone, I looked around and realized the rest of the staff had dispersed too. I wasn't so sure that they were as unbothered by my relationship with Donovan as Tom and Daisy—I’d seen the uncomfortable exchange of looks as we approached—but Daisy was right. I needed to do me. And I did deserve to be there. Even though I had fucked not one, but two, men to get there.
Turning, I casually looked for someone to engage with. I spotted a client across the room, but I didn’t want to end up talking shop, so I waved instead. Nate Sinclair was nearby, a woman I didn't recognize on his arm. He seemed engrossed in conversation with the couple standing next to him, and I didn’t want to interrupt. Elizabeth was taking selfies with the trio of older ladies—aunts, if I remembered correctly from her engagement party. Weston was no longer with her. They must've separated from each other in their mingling.
I searched for him, looked for his face amongst the sea of tuxedos and suits, and then stopped suddenly, my heart racing faster, when it landed on a familiar profile. One I hadn't seen in ten long years. His face was fuller than I remembered, his hair shorter, his neck longer.
But I'd never forget that jawline. Never forget those eyes that invoked pure terror in me.
No way in hell would I ever forget Theodore Sheridan.
Chapter 13
I was frozen. Torn between moving closer to be sure it was him and running far, far away. The oxygen in the room felt thinner. My lungs felt weaker. My legs were pipes of lead.
Before I could do anything at all, the man in question—Theodore—turned fully in my direction, and I could see for sure that it was him. The man who had held me down, who had covered my mouth and had stuck his hand down my panties, who had very nearly taken my virginity without my permission, was in the same ballroom with me, not twenty feet away.
Emotion bubbled up through me like vomit. My mouth dropped open in a soundless scream that heaved through me, causing sweat to bead at my brow. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be far away. He was supposed to be behind bars. He was not supposed to be drinking champagne and laughing with Elizabeth's maid of honor.
He was not supposed to be here.
I was struck with a sense of duty to go and warn her, the woman I didn't even know. Melinda, I believed was her name. I’d never been good with names.
But even after what I'd learned about Liz Stein, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't bring myself to go anywhere near the fucker. I had to be away. Far, far away.
I needed Donovan.
I whirled toward the door he'd exited through half an hour ago, determined to go after him. At the very least, I intended to get as far away from Theo as possible. But when I turned, I smacked into a hard, warm, familiar body.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Weston asked with all the concern and compassion of someone who cared about me.
"Theodore Sheridan." I was practically hyperventilating. "He's here. I have to leave." I tried to move but Weston had his arm on mine, securing me in place.
"He is? Are you sure?" His eyes swept the room behind me, his brows tightly knit. "With Melissa?"
Melissa, that was the maid of honor’s name. I nodded, unable to speak.
"That's Theo's little brother Clarence. They sure look a lot alike, don't they?"
"What?" I still couldn't get a breath. I braved a pivot to look where I'd last seen Theo/Clarence and squinted at the man's face. There were differences from my memories of him, but it had also been ten years. "You’re positive?"
"Yeah. I'm sure. There's no reason for Theo to be here. He’s … Well. He’s not here. That’s the polite way to say it. Clarence went to school with Elizabeth, though. Small world, isn't it?"
“That’s not Theo,” I said again. Weston probably thought I was crazy. I'd never told him about the assault, and I doubted it was something Donovan had ever brought up.