Page 90 of Bad Blood

Bile rises in my throat. I refuse to vomit.

“Funny seeing you here,” she says, giving me a coy smile.

I step to the back of the elevator, attempting to ignore her and focus on inhaling and exhaling so I don’t hyperventilate. The ringing in my ears overrides the sound of her voice. She’s the last person I want to see.

Despite my efforts to create space, she grabs my elbow, tugging at me. “I know I’m supposed to keep my distance . . .” She readjusts the files and continues in the one-sided conversation as she mumbles something about work and having to travel.

I have no problem tuning her out.

The man beside me glances around in search of her voice and does a double take. His eyes rove over her tan legs and up her body. He cracks a smile when they make eye contact. I watch their interaction, on edge. Her lips turn into a grin, and she drops her eyes, trying to act bashful. If he only knew half of what she has to offer.

Five foot five, blue eyes, and a skirt that fits like a glove.

I can’t say I blame him.

But I know better.

“I wouldn’t, man,” I mutter under my breath. I lean closer to him, his thoughts clear on his face. “Not worth it.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Trust me. It’s not.” I grab the hat off my head and fold the bill in my hands.

“Not what?” Dani asks, her attention back to me, but I ignore her.

Five years and one wrong decision later, I’m stuck in an elevator with the one person who isn’t supposed to come within one hundred feet of me.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper, trying to get her to create some distance between us.

She brushes her hand along my arm, and I cringe. “Grabbing some paperwork.”

“Here?”

I get a blank stare.

“One hundred feet isn’t a suggestion.”

“Semantics. I won’t tell if you don’t.” She strokes the back of her hand along my arm. I was successful at avoiding her at the party, and now this?

“That’s not the point. No contact. In any way.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls the files to her chest. “Can’t we let bygones be bygones? They brand you forever for a minor mistake.”

“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” I shake my head.

The ins and outs of the restraining order aren’t something I think about often, but I’m pretty damn sure Dani’s not worried about them—one hundred feet, no contact—super straightforward.

I step to the front of the elevator, creating a little distance between us, but she doesn’t take the hint.

“Mistake, a little misunderstandin’, I don’t care what you call it. You’re too sensitive.”

“A repeated offense over and over is not a little misunderstanding.”

“You didn’t feel that way when I was between your legs.”

I race to cover her mouth with my hand, yanking her beside me as I push to the front of the elevator. Her arms flail as I pull her behind me, and she pushes and shoves to get away. The audible gasps make me cringe. The doors glide open on the next floor. It’s not the one with the cafeteria, but I need to get off.

I drag Dani behind me and take my hand from her mouth as I pull her away from the onlookers.

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