Page 28 of Deceit

I’m addicted to a man that won’t allow himself to see me or understand what I need.

Sitting at the overly crowded bar, Wade is slowly sipping on his usual, dry brandy, making conversation with who he needs to. Appearing bored out of his ever-loving mind while he does it. As long as I’ve known him, I could never get him to wear another expression.

I’ve already said my needed hello’s to people that I’ve worked with in the past, and I’m free as a bird to get slightly buzzed before I tell Wade we can leave.

Three hours, that’s always been our max.

It’s enough time for him to socialize, appear that he gives a shit, and keep his reputation of being approachable, connected, and kind.

Drinking my second scotch, I listen to the dense blur of chatter behind me when a male voice enters clearly and extremely too close to me.

“What is a woman wearing a dress like that doing at a bar by herself?” I roll my eyes without even giving him the courtesy of looking at him.

“That was by far the lamest thing I’ve heard all night, and that’s saying something when I’m in a room full of politicians.”

I hear a deep and amused chuckle, then notice a body plop into the stool next to me, interrupting my peace and quiet. “Normally, I’m not so forward, but—“

“That wasn’t forward. It was lame.” I force myself to glance over, fully not expecting what’s sitting at my right.

Immaculate white teeth smile at me, showing off two slight dimples as he does. He's dressed to the nines in a black and white ensemble and matching tie with hazel eyes and medium brown hair. His jawline is sharp and model-worthy and why the hell he’s speaking to me right now is beyond me.

Regardless, it doesn’t matter because his line was still stupid. Still, I’m appreciating the type of male that just invited himself into my bubble.

“And you’re obviously not a dumb blonde,” he states forwardly.

I perk a curious and challenging brow. “Did you have a bet with someone that I would be?”

“I have to admit—“ He gives a noncommittal shrug. “—I judged you before my ass hit this seat.”

“Ah.” I twirl my glass then decide to unladylike chug it all the way back as to wrap this lovely conversation up. “Well, I’d say it was a pleasure, but you fucked up my quiet corner alone so, thanks.”

Fiddling with my clutch, I pull some bills out of my wallet for a tip when his hand shoots out in front of me.

“I’m Alexander, and I’m an ass clown.”

“I hate clowns.” I toss my twenty on the bartop and ignore his gesture.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“Can’t.” I round my stool, pissed off more than I was before.

If Bishop were here, I wouldn’t have to worry about bachelors or men with wives coming up with shit just to speak with me. I wouldn’t be alone here. I could’ve called Mills, but stupid ass me held on to hope that Bishop would surprise me.

“Emmy.” My name off his lips halts me immediately in my tracks. I purposely never mentioned it and, with that small fact, I slowly turn around.

Alexander’s slight smirk never leaves his face, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s conceded as fuck or that confident.

Sometimes they’re one in the same.

“I may have asked Wade Lockwood who you were,” he offers. “I thought you might have been his wife. I was happy to know that you’re not.”

“And if I was?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re content or not?”

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