Page 32 of Mr. Wicked

She dropped the bottles in their holder, setting the shot glasses on a tray. “How about dinner? Followed by a night of complete debauchery?”

“Sloane, I don’t know whether to cry or throw up at the thought of seeing him.” I placed my back against the sink and looked at the wall of liquor bottles, ensuring I wouldn’t turn toward Grayson. “I know it was only one night, more like a couple of hours, but I’m old-fashioned when it comes to this kind of stuff. I don’t just sleep with anyone; you know this. I don’t do one-night stands; you know this too. I would never join his app—it’s not my thing.” I gazed down at my feet, my arms wrapped across my stomach. “What happened between us ... I know it meant nothing to him, but it meant something to me.”

In fact, I could still feel the strength of his hands on my body.

The power in his lips when he kissed me.

His gaze devouring mine and the way it penetrated my chest, causing a storm of emotions.

“That’s because your parents have the best marriage ever and you want the same thing.”

Her statement caused me to look up. “You’re right. I couldn’t have better role models of love than them.”

“And what they have, that’s what you deserve.”

When I’d decided to go home with him, it wasn’t that I thought Grayson and I were going to instantly fall in love. That in the morning, I would wake to him on one knee, proposing. That would be ridiculous to even consider. I just hadn’t expected things to end the way they did—or for them to end at all. For him to show me such a lack of respect.

For me to mean absolutely nothing to him.

“Yes,” I whispered. “You’re right.”

She poured three different liquors into a metal mixer and began to shake it. “My advice, go march your hot ass over to his table and show him what he lost.” She nodded toward the tray. “And please bring those to table four before you do. They’ve been waiting over fifteen minutes for that round of shots.”

“That’s the best advice you’ve got?”

“Listen, girl, men want what they can’t have. I’m not saying you gave in easily, but you kinda gave in easily.” A thin smile tugged at her lips. “If you want Grayson to regret being a giant asshole, then show him what he can’t have. Show him you’re unaffected by his presence. That he means nothing to you.”

“Because I’m so good at that. My face will be a dead giveaway. I’m Miss Obvious, you know that about me.”

She poured the mixed liquor into a martini glass and set her hands on my shoulders. “You film for hours a day where you’re all smiley and upbeat, where you’re acting and endorsing a product you most definitely don’t believe in, but they’re paying you, so you need to sound convincing. This’ll be no different. Your uninterest in Grayson is the product and table twelve is the camera.” She squeezed before she released me. “Now, go kick ass.”

As she began to pour wine into a glass, I opened the apron and tied it around my waist, stealing a pen from Sloane’s collection and a pad of paper. “I say this with all the love in my heart, but I want to murder you right now.”

She winked. “But you couldn’t live without me.”

“That’s debatable.”

While I took the tray to table four, I kept my profile pointed toward Grayson, preventing myself from staring at him. It was safest to do that because if I happened to look at him, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to glance away. This way, he didn’t get a second of my attention.

He didn’t deserve it.

But my body felt fiery as I delivered the shots. My skin was getting hot and—I was sure—red. My stomach jittery, my hands sweaty. I had to really focus on what I was doing so I wouldn’t trip or spill, and the moment the last shot was on the table, I turned toward Grayson.

I expected to be able to walk the short distance to his table without having his eyes on me, giving me the chance to check him out while he was deep in conversation.

That wasn’t the case.

Because his eyes were fixed on mine.

His stare looking right through me.

Like I was an animal he was hunting.

Like I was a taste that he wanted more of.

“This”—he traced the air between us—“will end in the morning. One night, that’s it, nothing more.”

That scene, those words—it all replayed in my head as I walked toward him.

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