Page 70 of The Price of Forever

Roxie pinched my elbow. “Hey, the crabcakes are here. Eat ‘em before I eat ‘em all.”

I turned away from Seven and toward the plate, heart hammering, palms hot. There was no way I could eat. I was too worked up. That damn tequila knew how to get into my head. Trojan’s discomfort at Seven’s side was all the proof I needed.

Roxie elbowed me.

“You should eat something,” she said in a quieter voice. “You just took two top-shelf tequila shots back-to-back. And I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself, but you’re not the size of a football player. Come on.”

I drew a deep breath through my nostrils, grabbing the fork Roxie offered me. I scooped the crabcake bite into my mouth, chewed, swallowed. It was food. That was all I could register. Two seats down, Chico rubbed at his face like he was desperate to teleport out of there. Poor kid. I’d ruined his chance to make a good first impression, but his sacrifice had been necessary.

I’d gotten what I wanted. I knew more about Seven. But I didn’t like the new clues I’d found.

“Eat more,” Roxie encouraged. I took another bite to placate her, dabbing at my mouth with the napkin. A bit of my burgundy lipstick showed on the white cloth, and I placed it neatly on the bar.

“You two are awfully quiet down there,” I spoke up after a moment. My attempt at a lighthearted smile evaporated almost as quickly as it had arrived. “Don’t let us kill the buzz.”

Trojan rubbed at the back of his neck. He was just about to say something when Seven lifted his palm, silencing his friend.

Back to square one.

I huffed, sliding out of my seat. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I muttered to Roxie. “I need to get my head straight.” She nodded, offering me a hopeful smile.

I stormed off, followed the restroom signs down a winding back hallway. I needed to breathe through these emotions pushing me to the edge of a cliff I didn’t want to tumble over. I was almost lost by the time the restrooms came into view. I burst into the dimly lit ladies room and pushed my palms against the granite countertop, drawing deep, cleansing breaths.

Tears threatened to join the pity party, but I forced them away. I would not cry over Seven. No fucking way. He couldn’t even be bothered to speak to me out there, to clear the air. I gritted my teeth, letting the anger roll through me again. And again. And again. I stoked the flames only to calm myself down over and over. I did this through multiple rounds of customers using the restroom, washing their hands, and leaving. I had no idea how long I stayed there, only that I fucking needed it.

When I could finally draw a deep breath without wanting to scream curse words, I knew I was ready to rejoin the world. I strode confidently out of the bathroom, my head held high. A hand grabbed my wrist on my second step out of the restroom, yanking me to the side. I gasped, spinning like a ballroom dancer over the carpeted floor until my back was up against the wall.

Seven caged me in, his neck bent to bring our faces closer together, his bulging biceps blocking me at both sides.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled.

I swallowed hard, searching his handsome face. He was so angry. But the mere sight of him calmed the desperate, raucous parts inside me. Looking at him felt right.

“I thought you were on a date,” I admitted. His jaw flexed, the manly weight of his cologne settling around me like the most pleasant sweater.

This answer seemed to throw him off. He blinked a few times before he said, “Why did you come here if you thought I was on a date?”

I shrugged, unable to admit anything else. Especially after what I knew about him now. “I was curious about who she was. But I found out exactly what I needed to know.”

“And what the fuck do you think that is?” The edge returned to his voice.

Hurt lashed through me. I studied the swirl pattern on the carpet, unsure how much I should let him know. “You tried to whore me out to your friend.”

My voice broke on the last word and I covered my mouth with my hand, willing the emotion to stay inside. I drew a deep breath, forcing myself to plow ahead. I peeked up at him, finding real confusion wrought across his face.

“Do you know how degrading that is?” I asked, my voice pinched. I had mere seconds before I completely unraveled in front of him. Then he’d see that I’d actually developed feelings for him. I felt stupid enough around him—this was just the final nail in the coffin.

I tried to push past him but he didn’t let me by. Instead, he took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing my gaze to him.

All of the anger had dissolved from his face. Now he looked torn. Distraught, even.

“You thought I was whoring you out to Trojan?” he repeated softly. I nodded, feeling my chin tremble under his thumb. He pressed harder, tenderness flooding his face.

“Jordan.” He said it so softly I thought I imagined it. A tear escaped, rolling down my cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb.

“I’m a little drunk,” I admitted.

“I wasn’t whoring you out. I was gathering information. I’m sorry if it seemed—” He stopped, his throat bobbing. He drew a breath. “I’m sorry if it seemed that way. But I needed to find out if you were telling the truth about…what happened in the VIP room.”

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