Page 70 of Jilted

She smiled. “It seems the band agrees we should dance.”

But Wilder still hadn’t loosened his hold, so I helped him along, wiggling from his grasp. “It’s okay. You two enjoy.”

“Sloane—”

But I kept going, not stopping until I was back at my table. Unfortunately, Elijah wasn’t around to distract me, so I sat there alone, watching the two of them glide around the dance floor while I micro-analyzed everything—the way her hand rested on his chest, how his held her hip. They definitely had history, and that didn’t make me feel good.

When the dance was over, Wilder came right over. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” I forced a smile that probably made me look like the Joker. “No big deal.”

“Natasha and I went to college together.”

Great, Harvard. Beauty, British, and brains.I continued to pretend it didn’t bother me. “That’s nice.”

Wilder’s brows pulled tight. “Are you angry with me?”

“Of course not. Why would I be angry? Dance with her all night, for all I care.”

His jaw hardened. “Really? You wouldn’t mind if I danced with her all night?”

“Why would I? We’re just friends.”

The muscle in his cheek ticked. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend that’s all we are. You know that’s bullshit.”

I looked away, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, Wilder. I shouldn’t have come to London early. I’m giving you the wrong impression.”

“The wrong impression?”

“Yes, the wrong impression.”

He stared at me in silence, but I refused to meet his gaze. After the longest time, he frowned. “Whatever. Have a great time tonight.”

I felt tears threatening as he stalked off. One of the ladies sitting a few seats away looked at me with concern in her eyes. She leaned forward like she was going to ask if I was okay, so I abruptly stood to avoid her and went in search of the ladies’ room.

When I found it, there were a few women chatting near the sinks, so I locked myself in a stall to collect my feelings. I blotted my eye makeup and took a mint from my purse before flushing, even though I hadn’t used the toilet. The bathroom chatter had quieted, so I opened the door, expecting to be alone. But I wasn’t.

The tall brunette,Natasha,leaned over a sink, lining her lips in blood red, but her eyes moved immediately me. She flashed a vicious smile. She’d definitely been waiting for me to come out. “Hello.”

I nodded and stepped to the sink. “Hi.”

She grinned. “You must be American?”

I knew I had a New York accent, but I didn’t think one syllable showcased it.

Her smile widened at my confusion. “Brits don’t sayhi.”

“Oh.” I turned on the water and tried to pay attention to getting my hands wet, but it was impossible to ignore her studying my face in the mirror. I looked up and met her gaze. “Can I help you with something?”

“Actually, I thought I’d help you.”

“And how would you do that?”

“By giving you some advice on Wilder Hayes.”

---