Page 21 of Insatiable Hunger

“Okay, yes,” I finally say. “It’ll be nice to have you here for the holiday. I’ll book you a flight this week. It’ll be less taxing on you than driving for seven hours.”

“Yay! Thank you. I can’t wait to see you guys.”

“Me either, El.” And I meant it. I do miss my sister. Before she got sick, we saw each other quite frequently, but traveling isn’t always the best idea for her, and with my insane work schedule, me leaving town isn’t always feasible.

We talk for a few more minutes, hanging up only once I’m pulling into the driveway. Glancing down at the time on the dash, I note that I have about an hour before Valerie and I have to leave if we want to make it to the event on time.

***

“I’m going to the bar to get a drink,” I tell Valerie, standing from the table. “Can I get you something too?”

Her pale green eyes that so heavily remind me of another pair glance up at me. “A glass of champagne, please.” She offers me a small smile before returning to her conversation with Trish, the wife of one of my employees.

Val handles herself well at events like these. Despite her upbringing, she’s extremely extroverted when she needs to be and knows how to work a crowd. In fact, when I first met her, she was bartending on the weekends at a popular place downtown.

Everybody loves her.

The banquet hall is packed; men and women all around in their nicest attire, mingling and eating and dancing. It’s a charity event with the humane society that we’ve helped sponsor annually for the last five or so years.

At the bar, I place my drink order—a champagne for Valerie and a scotch neat for me. I glance around the room, people watching. It’s always fascinating what people do when they think nobody is looking. My gaze drifts to the dance floor in the center of the room to my right. There aren’t many people occupying the space, but there are some.

One in particular that catches my eye.

What the fuck?

“Sir, your drinks,” the bartender says from behind me as he shoves the drinks toward me.

“Thank you.”

On my way back to the table Valerie and I are seated at, my eyes stay glued to the dance floor, my mind perturbed on how and why. Getting back to the table, I set the glass of champagne down in front of my wife, bringing the glass of scotch to my lips and taking a sip. I’m still standing and watching him, considering saying something to Valerie, but I don’t. I’m not sure why… I just don’t yet. Maybe it’s because the visual of him across the room dressed in that tux, beside another man, reminds me vividly of the last time I saw him dressed up, and how that night ended with me doing something I shouldn’t have.

“Honey, what’s the matter?”

Dragging my gaze to hers, I say, “Hmm?”

“Is everything okay? Why don’t you have a seat?”

The blood is roaring in my ears the longer I watch him.He must think he’s pretty fucking clever.

“I’ll be right back,” I murmur, setting my drink down before taking off in the direction of the cause of my high blood pressure. He sees me as I get to be about twenty feet away, and the shock plastered on his face at my presence is quickly replaced with a menacing gleam in his eyes as he continues to dance with whoever he’s with. A quick glance behind him has my molars grinding together.

He’s here with Jordan?!

“Hey, Zeke,” Elias drawls. “What are you doing here?”

Jordan looks between the both of us, brows pinched in confusion. “You two know each other?”

“A word, please,” I grit out, eyes zeroed in on the brat smirking at me right now.

“I’m good,” he mutters. “I’m kind of busy with mydate.”

Date. Is that who he was fooling around with last night?

“Now, Elias.” The two words come out in a growl as I blow past them toward the exit, not bothering to see if he’s following me. The warm humid night air slaps me in the face as I keep walking until I round the corner into the parking lot. Only then do I stop and turn around, facing Elias as heslowlystalks toward me, rebellion and annoyance shining brightly in his green eyes.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He stops a few feet in front of me, arms crossed over his chest in what is clearly his signature stance of defiance. He did that same shit the other night when he got home. “You are the most hot and cold individual I have ever met in my life.”

“What ismyproblem?” I hiss. My hands itch with the need to wrap around his throat or shove him against something. Shake him. “What thehellare you doing here?”

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