Page 154 of Tangled Kisses
“Ma’am.” Whitaker’s voice cuts into my thoughts, his posture straight as a blade at the bottom of the steps.
I roll my eyes and jab a finger upstairs. “What is it, Jeeves? I’m going to lock myself in my room. Okay with you?” My words are sharp, acidic, the vodka finally loosening my tongue.
He inclines his head, but his jaw tightens. “Perhaps you shouldn’t go up there right now.”
My hand freezes on the banister. “Why? What am I going to find—a torture chamber waiting for me?”
Whitaker tips his chin toward the second floor, voice softening. “Please. He’s already in a bad mood. Best to return to the party.”
For the first time, I see it: the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. But what is he hiding? What does he know?
I consider his request before tossing it aside. “No. Not this time.”
I climb the stairs, half expecting a trapdoor to open and swallow me whole with every step.
And then I hear it. A man’s low laugh. A woman’s breathless giggle.
I round the corner and stop dead.
Vander. His jacket shoved open, tie skewed, pinning a woman against the wallpaper like she’s prey. Her leg hooked around his waist, his mouth devouring hers, his hand roaming up her thigh.
Of course he’s screwing some nameless woman in the hallway. He’s Vander Hale, don’t you know.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
He jerks back, eyes narrowing as he glances over his shoulder, red lipstick smeared across his jaw.
The woman smooths her hair, flushed.
Recognition slams into me. It’s the redhead from the store, the one he flirted with while I smashed dishware. “Unbelievable. How long have you been screwing her? I thought you only did one-night stands.”
The redhead falters. “I—I should just?—”
“Oh no, honey,” I snap. “Stay. By all means. But don’t fool yourself. He’ll grow tired of you soon enough. There’ll be ablonde. Or a brunette. Or maybe a blue-haired influencer if he’s feeling adventurous. But it won’t be you. Not for long.”
Vander’s smile turns lethal. He clenches and unclenches his fist once, a silent warning shot, like he’s already savoring the thought of shutting me up with it. “Control yourself, Reese. Behave.”
A fractured guffaw spews past my lips. “Behave? I’m just being a girl’s girl. Giving her insider information.”
His jaw hardens. “I mean it.”
The redhead lingers, uncertain, until he strokes her cheek—gentle, practiced, an echo of how he once touched me. “I’ll be right there. Let me deal with her.”
I bark out a bitter laugh. “Deal with me? Is that what this is now?”
He grips my arm, dragging me toward the hall. “Enough. You’ve had too much to drink. You’ll go back to your room and keep quiet.”
I wrench against his hold. “I don’t care who you’re screwing, Vander. You seem to actually like her. So fine—dump me. End it. Let’s both move on.”
His face hardens, voice dropping to a hiss. “That’s not how this works. And if you keep pissing me off, maybe I’ll pay a little visit to your precious Griffin. Or Pearl.” His smile twists, cruel. “And let’s not forget your family tree. Plenty of targets there.”
The blood freezes in my veins. “You swore. You swore if I came back out here, you’d leave them alone.”
He leans in, lips curling. “But I never actually agreed to your demand, did I?”
Something inside cracks wide open—every year of being a pleaser, every swallowed truth, every humiliation. Gone. Burned away.
I rip my arm from his grip, laughing like I’ve finally lost it. “You know what? I don’t feel much like being quiet tonight.”
