Page 3 of Red Velvet

I lift the glass to my lips only to realize it’s empty. I grunt in disappointment, disposing of the glass on a nearby table before making my way to the french doors at the other end of the party room. I need to get some fresh air if I’m to stay here another hour.

Some fresh air and a smoke.

Heavy curtains guard the glass doors, and for a moment I fear they may be locked, because they don't open right away as I try to escape without anyone noticing. I have to jolt the handle violently before the door finally gives in, inviting me into the darkness outside. I slip through, greeted by the balmy summer night as I step onto the balcony that stretches along the entire side of the villa.

Closing the door behind me, I stare out into the blackness, trying to find my bearings. Lanterns line the balustrade, but the light is very dim, only helping to detect outlines and vague shapes while my eyes get used to the darkness.

I blame the poor visibility conditions for the shocked gasp that flees my lips when I hear a rustling noise right next to me, accompanied by movement I didn't expect. Before my mind is able to comprehend what's happening in my peripheral vision, I jump back, cursing at the shadow that startled me.

A figure steps out of the shadows, blonde hair framing a pristine face with a set of bright eyes that look up at me with the same shock that just raced down my spine. Her pink and plush lips are slightly parted, topped with a small nose that gives her somewhat mouselike features. She steps forward, and the light cast on her face from a lantern shows a telltale blush on her cheeks—and a bottle of champagne in her hand. She flinches back in shame as my eyes land on the bottle, moving it behind her back.

It'sher. For fuck's sake, it's the maid of honor.

"Sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to—"

"Care to share?" I cut her off, pointing at the golden liquid she's trying to hide from me.

The girl sucks in a sharp breath before she reluctantly hands me the bottle.

That fucking look.

She's stunning in a way that appeals to me like no other. It's why I noticed her in the first place, why my eyes traveled back to her again and again. She has something I haven't seen in a while, something I'm naturally drawn to.

Purity.

Unspoiled and unbroken innocence, paired with yearning.

My eyes never leave her as I bring the bottle to my lips, realizing that it's half-empty already. The red on her cheeks tells me she was probably the only one drinking from it. She's visibly tipsy, and I'm not quite sure how I feel about that.

She winces when I hand the bottle back to her in an abrupt and invasive motion, almost pushing it against her chest. Her eyes linger on me, flickering with suspicion as she slowly takes the bottle out of my hand.

"Hope you don't mind," I say as I produce a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from my inside pocket.

There's no protest from her side. Instead, she brings the champagne back to her lips, taking a strong swig that emits desperation.

Chapter 2

Lila

It's not a question, and he doesn't await any response from my side. The flame bathes his handsome features in warm light and stark shadows when he lights his cigarette. He's tall, towering above me by about half a foot, and his broad tapered shoulders only strengthen the impact of his height. The suit jacket stretches around his biceps as he bends his arms to bring the flame up to the cigarette that's tucked between his lips.

Damn, he is one handsome man. It might be the alcohol, but my heart flutters like a trapped butterfly as I watch him, my eyes flitting from his solid physique to his bold jawline to his onyx eyes and back to his large hands as the smoke of his first puff twirls around them.

Who is he? Why can't I place him? I thought I knew every single guest at this wedding, or would at least be able to place them in a general group of acquaintances, friends, business associates or family. But he's too young to be a business associate, and too unfamiliar to be anything else.

Our eyes meet, causing me to jerk up, batting my lashes nervously as I wait for him to speak.

"You're not a smoker," he states, his deep voice oscillating with dominance.

I shake my head, despite the lack of a question mark at the end of his sentence. "More of a drinker."

I undermine my words with another sip from the bottle, knowing I shouldn't do it. My vision is already blurred, and my tongue feels heavy when I speak. This will only get worse, and I'm torn between not wanting to care and not wanting to ruin my sister's wedding. She doesn't deserve that. My misery, my jealousy, all of that is not her fault, and it shouldn't be her concern either. Especially not tonight.

"Not having a good night, huh?"

He takes a strong pull on his cigarette and puts some distance between us, filling the air with heavy smoke while he surveys me through narrowed eyes. There's a demand in his gaze, an order to react, a challenge. But he also looks like a predator trying to lure in his prey.

It's so fucking sexy that it fuels my vertigo even more than the liquid poison.

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