Page 30 of Torrid Passion
CHAPTER 8
Kyla
Ever feel like your life is a Shakespearean tragedy?
That's how I feel right now.
A few patrons sitting at neighboring tables offered apologetic smiles as the circus was in full swing, but the damage to my self-esteem was already done. While Larkin and Loki were talking, I pulled out my phone and texted my cousins. I gave them a glimpse of my shameful evening. They sent sympathy and love. As much as I appreciate it, it’s going to take a lot more to repair this night. I also told them Loki and I would be hanging out for a bit longer. Stella was ridiculously excited. I burst her bubble by reminding her there was nothing amusing about me having to grovel and apologize to a man I put on the spot.
It was a good idea at the time, but my fake boyfriend scenario exploded in my face.
Once Larkin left, Loki and I didn’t say anything to each other until our luxury suite was ready. I suspect he has a thousand questions. I kept quiet because my mortification was too great for words. But I knew I was just buying time. I’ll have to face the music eventually. And after this fiasco, he deserves a proper explanation.
Are you punishing me, God?
First, Grant is a no show.
Then, I bump into Loki right after finding out Mr. Pussy dumped me for Glenda with the much bigger ass.
Then Magnus shows up and ruins my night?
I’ve officially hit the bottom of the barrel.
I just pray to God Mom and Dad never find out.
With a hand pressed against the small of my back, Loki guides us from the restaurant, to the elevator, up to the tenth floor, down the luxuriously decorated corridor. Loki swipes the card and invites me in. We’re both standing in the foyer. Absentmindedly, I scour the room. The refinement and opulence is no longer a surprise. It matches the rest of this hotel.
“Let’s go into the living room,” Loki suggests.
“Okay.”
I follow behind him.
“Have a seat,” Loki indicates to the long sofa.
Under different circumstances, I might have taken the time to appreciate the slick design of the purple velvet sofa. Italian made, I’m sure. Alas, decor is the last thing on my mind right now.
I drop my clutch on the live edge coffee table and take a seat.
“Champagne?” Loki asks, unbuttoning his jacket.
I’m completely fascinated by his strong hands.
I was so taken aback by Magnus’s presence and Loki’s willingness to play along, I was almost too distracted to feel his hand over mine as he pressed it against his heart. Almost.
Too bad it was all fake.
“Kyla?” Loki’s voice snaps me back to reality.
“I’m sorry. Yes, please.”
A few minutes later, he approaches me with two flutes.
“Thank you,” I say when he drops mine in front of me.
“My pleasure.”
He sits in the oversized armchair across from me.
