Page 108 of Inflame

Tears fill my eyes as soon as my back is turned to Ethan. My shoulders tremble and my breath collects in my throat. I try to swallow. I try to breathe.

Mr. I-Drive-An-Aston-Martin catches up to me but I wave him off. I tell him the date unfortunately is over, and he can withhold my payment if he wants, as long as he doesn’t give me a bad review for my profile. I can try to recoup the money later. I get into the elevator with the two guards and get ushered across the lobby’s tiled surface.

When I look up at the entrance, I see Nic Hoffman lingering along the tall glass window, checking his cell phone. He notices me right as my eyes scan down his body. I stop instantly from my blatant perusing. In my defense, the man knows how to wear a pair of denims. It is like he has his own brand that is tailored just for him.

Nic moves closer to us and nods to the workers. They seem to know each other and maybe that is how his line of work is when it comes to these types of jobs. Everyone knows each other and word gets out about troublemakers.

I am the troublemaker.

The guards disperse and leave us be.

“What happened?” he asks, scanning over me. “Are you okay, Claire?”

I shrug and look past him out the window. “Minor misunderstanding.” I still feel Ethan’s hands on my wrists and my anger sparks again over the regret I didn’t punch him in his smug face.

“Something obviously happened for you to be flanked by two of the security men. So, tell me.”

I sigh. “I was on a date.”

“A date?”

“From Entice.”

Nic gives me a single nod but doesn’t say any more on that topic. “Keep going,” he encourages.

“I ran into Ethan and his ex-wife, and I may have thrown a beverage in his face.”

“He would have deserved it. And more.”

“I know, right? I may have also called him a pussy.”

Nic stifles his laughter, which just makes me smirk. “Go on.”

“I may have also caused quite a scene with my yelling.” I allow my lips to form a straight line. Looking back on the situation, I actually think I was rather calm. I could have been so much worse. “And I kicked him square in the balls, making him knock some dishes onto the floor.”

“I bet the restaurant didn’t appreciate that,” he says with a chuckle.

“Nope. So I got escorted out and asked to not come back.” I sniffle and try to keep my emotions in check.

“There are plenty of other restaurants in the city that you have not made scenes at yet. I wouldn’t worry about this minor altercation.”

I smile over his nonchalant response. “What are you doing here? Why are you lingering in the lobby?”

“I live in the building down the street. A friend was eating dinner upstairs and saw that you were one of my employees,” he says, pointing to my wrist, “based on your bracelet.” His eyes narrow, and he takes my hands into his, turning them. “Did that bastard grab you? Your wrists are all red.”

My nonanswer gives my answer. “I’m fine.”

Nic’s eyes level with mine. “I already warned him that I’d break him in half if he touches you again. The fucker has a learning problem, because I thought I made myself clear in Vegas.” His thumbs soothe my sore muscles, as he gently massages the tenderness.

“I’m okay, Nic. I got my revenge when I kicked him.” My response doesn’t seem to calm him, but I continue trying to distract him from going up to the restaurant to make Ethan pay even more. I don’t want to be left alone right now. “Then what happened with your friend?”

“He decided to give me a call to make sure I didn’t need to intervene. The security staff beat me to it.”

I look down at my red heels. “It was not one of my finer moments.” Now that the adrenaline has worn off, I feel nauseous from the whole scene I caused. No one is going to take me seriously as a career woman if I can’t maintain a positive public image. Breaking out into fits of rage in an upscale restaurant doesn’t help—even if Ethan deserved everything and more.

“What do you need?”

My eyes meet Nic’s with confusion. “What do you mean?”

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