Two

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

I turned and walked out slamming the door with enough force behind me that everyone walking the hallway stopped to see what was going on.

I made it to the sidewalk outside the hotel before my legs began to shake again. I stumbled into the first alley I saw, leaned against the cold brick, and threw up the little I had for dinner.

When there was nothing left, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, but the shaking got worse.

What am I going to do?

I blinked the tears away, sniffling. Jace was my everything. How could I be so stupid. Believing his business trips and meetings even on unusual days?!

I should've seen it before it all got to this.

In a few hours I would've been walking down the aisle with a chronic cheat, a liar, a man who only saw his wife and kid as an asset. I should've known when he flaunted us whenever a talk about his stepbrother came to us. Taunting him for not having a child yet. I should've known when he got angry because his guest was coming and we were still not fashionably dressed.

I should've known...

I should've read between those tiny lines.

I straightened up, balling my hand into a tight fist to stop myself from shaking. 

Suddenly a lady walked past me holding a bottle of alcohol murmuring to herself, she bowed unstably when she saw me and continued her walk to a car across the street. I looked behind me to see O'Malley's tucked between a pawn shop and the building I was relaxing on.

I walked into the building, the stench of alcohol hitting me strongly. I slid onto a stool at the far end.

“Tequila, please,” I told the bartender, “Don’t bother with the glass.”

He nodded and poured me a shot then kept the bottle in front of me. I sniffled and picked the shot, throwing it back. It burned all the way down my throat, it probably left scars. I pushed the glass back to him. 

I was on my third shot when a man’s voice cut through the fog in my head.

“You’re gonna regret that in the morning.”

I turned to see who it was. 

A man was sitting two stools away from me, looked like he was in his early thirties. He stood out oddly, dressed in a suit, in the midst of people in either casual or club fit. And the odd one out with how different he looked. 

It was either he owned the club and this is his first time here, his tousled hair gleaming under the old lights, and eyes that seemed to swallow all the lights.

“What’s it to you?” My words slurred a little.

He nodded toward my left hand. “Big day tomorrow?”

“Was.”

He was silent for a minute, just watching me. “Who's this unfortunate man,” he said finally with a small smile that was either to assure me or something amused him.

“He's not a man, he's a bastard.”

“I must agree.” He signaled the bartender, pointed to my almost empty glass and the guy helped pour another shot. I would pour the entire thing to the floor with how shaky my hands were. “No gentleman makes a lady cry.”

“What’s your deal?” I muttered, knocking back the fourth shot. The room was starting to tilt pleasantly. I glared at him. “You some kind of guardian angel? Patron saint of sad drunks?”

“I don’t have one. Try not to drink too much, it's not the best idea for a woman to be alone, drunk, at this hour.” 

I downed another shot, and another, until there were two bottles in front of me. 

“Maybe I want to make a bad decision,” I said, looking away from the bottles and giving the bartender a small smile. “All my good decisions got me here in the first place.”

He nodded and stood up, leaving cash on the bar. “Your Choice,” he said, and faced the bartender. “Make sure she gets into a cab safely.” With that, he started walking toward the back hallway where the private rooms were.

Did he...Did he just walk away mid discussion?

Talk about men. What? Ask me a question, start a fucking conversation and then walk away like it doesn't matter, like I don't matter. What's next? He's probably going to sit with another woman, and kiss her and do things to her and then say that's how business is.

I pushed my shot aside. I wasn’t just some sad drunk woman to be diagnosed and abandoned. I shoved off my stool and followed him into the dark hallway.

The hallway was dark and narrow, lit by a single buzzing bulb. He heard my footsteps and turned, leaning against the wall.

“Where are you going?”

He turned around sharply, if he was startled by my sudden appearance he didn't show it.

“I have work to do, cara, the drink was to wake me up.”

He's Italian also? Why is every single man I meet Italian? 

They're the worst of men you'll ever find.

“Would you like me to ask the bartender to drop you off... wherever you came from.”

But he was a gentleman, one that actually cares about my safety. He wouldn't watch leave, alone and heartbroken, unremorseful for what he did. He was better, perfect.

“ ... I see you're not listening—”

In a burst of some impulsive hormone I closed the distance between us and placed my lips on his. He was taller, sturdy, and smelled so nice and intoxicating I almost couldn't stand straight. 

He'd kiss me back won't he? He won't reject me, he won't tell me I was just an asset. But he didn't.

Until I continued kissing him with all the fury and betrayal inside me, my hands fisting in his shirt. He went perfectly still for a heartbeat, his hands at his sides. Then a low sound rumbled in his chest, and he was on me, pushing me back against the opposite wall, his body hard against mine. His mouth moved from my lips to my jaw to my throat and back again, and in that moment, I forgot the reason I was here. I forgot everything but the heat of his hands going up my thighs and the taste of blood on his tongue.