Page 31 of Tangled in Vows

My chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, but his smile never falters.

His fingers beckon. “Come on, Hurricane. Let’s have some fun.”

Have fun?

I can’t even remember the last time I had fun in a casual setting. A situation where I didn’t have to be “on” for a shoot, an interview, or any other type of appearance. Most of the time, those are fun, but they’re also a lot of work. Sometimes I have to work extra hard to keep my resting bitch face hidden.

Yes, let’s pretend this is exactly that. Work where I can’t be caught showing signs of anything but happiness.

This is for the fans and press.

But after today, I deserve to let loose for a while. To forget about the past, about some stranger breaking into my condo, finding out I’m still married to the man who left me, being forced to pretend I’m happily married, and receiving flowers with a cryptic message.

Tonight, I just want to be.

So I place my hand into Holden’s large one, ignoring the electric current that zips down my spine at the contact.

The moment I’m out of the SUV, the camera flashes multiply a hundredfold. People shout my name, a few even yelling Holden’s. He tugs me against his side, half shielding me from the crowd as he directs me past the security guards and through the club’s back entrance. The door closes behind us with abang.

The paparazzi noise switches to the low base of the music inside.

We entered a hallway that seems for staff only, with several closed office doors along both sides.

We only stop long enough for Holden to glance at me with an unasked question. I nod to tell him I’m okay, and he pulls me toward a staircase at the end. At the top, there’s a door that says VIP Only. We pass more beefy security men, and they all nod at Holden. Do they know him? How often does he come here?

I’ve never been to this club before but heard about it. It’s one of three interconnected ones in the city. I always wondered why there are several in such close proximity, or what makes them so special, but they’re all wildly successful. And hard to get into, apparently. Heather once told me that people need an invitation.

We step into the main area, and I let my gaze roam.

Strobe lights flash to the beat of the loud music, the bass thumping in my chest. There aren’t a lot of people up here compared to the level beneath. One peek over the balcony shows nothing but a sea of writhing bodies.

While the first level is an open floor with two large bars on opposite sides, the upstairs is spacious and luxurious. Rounded velvet booths grace the walls, offering ample room and privacy to their occupants. Everything is set in black and deep purple with gold accents, giving it an almost sensual vibe.

Holden leads me toward a booth in the corner, and I stumble when I see it’s already occupied. The last thing I need right now is to mingle with strangers. My social batteries are completely drained.

“Liv.” Evie shrieks and jumps out of her seat, barreling past Holden to get to me. Her arms go around my middle, and she yanks me to her. “I was afraid you changed your mind and weren’t coming. It’s so good to see you.”

Thankfully, the music is subdued enough up here, saving us from having to yell over it.

I return her embrace, soaking in the warmth of seeing my friend. Of being hugged.

She draws back to give me a once-over before doing the same to Holden, adding a slight glare. It only lasts a second before she bands her arms around him and hugs him.

He kisses the top of her head. “Hey, Princess.”

“That’s enough fondlingmywife.” Evie’s billionaire husband, Phoenix, appears beside her, pulling her away from Holden. “You have one of your own.”

The noise swallows my quiet gasp at the sharp tone in his voice. Evie told me that Holden didn’t mention our marriage to either of them. From the looks of it, keeping it a secret created some tension.

You never told anyone either.

Because you never trusted anyone with your past. Not fully.

Holden knows a few things about the community and the arranged marriages they often perform, but he doesn’t even know it all. I didn’t want to share how bad things had been there.

I just wanted to forget.

There’s a reason I have my forget-me box, after all, for everything I want to erase from my memories as best as possible. The illusion of pretending those things don’t exist anymore helps me to detach myself from my past. Sometimes.

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