Page 14 of Doomed
Her breath catches, and I smile against her skin.
“And Bianca? I always get what I want. Always.”
Before she can gather her wits—or her hand for another slap—I pull back and melt into the crowd, leaving her flushed and flustered at the bar. The look on her face is worth more than the sting on my lip.
The chase is on, and I’ve never enjoyed the game quite this much.
5
BIANCA
Iwatch Knox disappear into the crowd, my skin still tingling where his breath touched my ear. His words echo in my head:
I always get what I want. Always.
“Holy shit,” Michelle says. “That was intense. Are you okay?”
I drain my martini in one gulp. “I’m fine.”
But I’m not fine. My pulse races, and it’s not from anger. The way Knox looked at me—like I was a puzzle he couldn’t wait to solve—sends heat coursing through me.
An hour passes. Then two. The dance floor pulses with bodies, the music throbs through my chest, but Knox doesn’t reappear. I keep scanning the crowd, telling myself I’m making sure he stays away.
The only problem with that—I know I’m fucking lying to myself.
Michelle tugs my arm, pulling me from my thoughts. Her words slur, and her cheeks are flushed from too many cosmos. “That guy over there keeps looking at me.”
I follow her gaze to a tall man with dark curly hair who’s watching Michelle with blatant interest.
“Go talk to him,” I say, nudging her forward.
“You sure?”
“I’m a big girl. Go have fun.”
She hesitates only a moment before weaving through the crowd toward him. Within minutes, they’re dancing, his hands on her waist, her arms around his neck.
I order another drink, my third of the night, and try not to think about Knox’s mouth against my ear or the thrill that shot through me when he promised to get what he wants.
By midnight, Michelle is practically wrapped around Curly Hair, giggling as he whispers in her ear. I catch her eye and motion that I’m leaving. She breaks away and stumbles over to me.
“I’ll come with you,” she says, though her gaze keeps darting back to her dance partner.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re having fun.” I grab my purse and stand. “I’ll catch a cab. I’ll see you at home.”
“You sure?” She bites her lip, torn between concern for me and desire for him.
“Positive. Text me when you’re on your way, okay?”
She hugs me, whispers “Thank you,” and then rejoins her new friend on the dance floor.
As I push through the crowd toward the exit, I can’t help scanning the faces one last time, looking for a pair of dangerous blue eyes.
I push through the club’s doors and step into the night air, grateful for the reprieve from the pounding music. The October chill wraps around my bare arms. It’s a welcome change to the stifling heat inside Purgatory.
The street is quieter than I expected for a Friday night. A few people stumble out of nearby bars, their laughter echoing against brick buildings. I move to the curb, scanning for the yellow flash of a taxi.
One drives past without slowing. I wave my arm higher, but another cab zooms by, its light clearly on.
