Page 81 of The Grump I Loathe
“If you do,” he reasoned, “maybe I won’t feel so compelled to have a talk with the head of that lovely distribution company you’re signing with tomorrow.”
“Talk about what?” I said, my hackles rising.
“About the way you and that woman with the teal hair keep eye-fucking each other. Was I not supposed to notice? Half of the wedding has figured out that you’re screwing each other. Her name’s Eddie, right? One of your employees at LockMill, isn’t she? LockMill, where you have that new no-dating policy?”
What the fuck did he just say?I blinked like I’d heard him wrong.
“I’m sure Mr. Singh would be really interested to know that the CEO of LockMill likes to screw his employees,” Sawyer said lightly.
I swallowed hard, my hand clenching around my glass as I glared at him. “Don’t ever threaten me again, Sawyer. You won’t like the results.”
I couldn’t afford to lose this distribution deal when we were a month from shipping the game. If Pavilion backed out, we’d have nothing but a whole lot of code and wasted time. No Juni Protocol. No nothing. But I wasn’t going to put up with his shit, either.
Anger burned in my chest, but my words were drowned out by the emcee.
“And now!” he thundered. “I want to welcome Grace and Ali to the floor for a special mother-daughter dance!”
“Call off the lawyer,” Sawyer said, grabbing the lapel of my jacket.
“No.” I shoved him off.Shadowbe damned. Grace had to come first. She would always come first. Ali might let herself get distracted, but I’d never choose a game over my daughter. I opened my mouth to tell Sawyer my lawyer expected a prompt response, but then?—
Crash!
25
EDDIE
Iblinked hard, my head spinning as awhooshfilled my ears. Why did my tongue feel too big for my mouth?
I blinked again.
Harder.
Ow, that hurt.What happened?
I lifted my hand, pressing it gingerly to my forehead. It was sticky and smelled of grenadine and pineapple and some sharp kind of alcohol. Had I tripped and fallen into the bar? I pressed up on my elbows, gasping as I lifted my head. It felt like someone had taken an ice pick right to my temple. When I finally focused, Grace’s chocolate-and-tearstained face swam into view.
“Eddie?” she blubbered, her voice too loud and far away all at once. “Are you okay?”
I reached for her. She grasped my hand.
“Careful,” she said, sniffling. “There’s glass.”
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’m okay. Are you?”
“I’m—” I didn’t know. The fuzziness in my head was easing, but the memories were still hovering just a little out of reach. Something about glass. Grace. The towering pyramid of Ali and Sawyer’s signature cocktails. Finally, the details started coming back to me. I winced, horrified at what I remembered.
I’d been standing with Grace by the dessert table, the two of us making an epic fruit kabob we were about to slather in chocolate, when Ali rushed over, breathless as she demanded Grace follow her to the dance floor for the mother-daughter dance. Grace had refused, claiming she was having more fun with me. There was a…scuffle? Then something…something…floor.
Ughhhhhh.
“Eddie?” Grace said, concerned. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m okay,” I tried to reassure her as Grace tugged desperately on my arm. I let her pull me into a sitting position, which made my head rush worse for a few seconds before things started to level out again. I winced when I noticed the crowd of guests converged around us, blending together in a wall of black suits.
“Grace!” a voice boomed, and next thing I knew, Connor was shoving his way through the crowd like some sort of avenging angel, which was exactly what I needed right now.
