Page 76 of Iris' Lying Eyes

I wait several minutes to give myself time to calm down before slipping into the hall.

Unfortunately, Bastion is waiting for me with a broody stare that I’m starting to hate. Does he miss nothing?

Grabbing my arm, he stalks farther down the hall and presses me against the wall. From an outsider’s perspective, he appears to be flirting with his arm next to my head, but his searing gaze says otherwise.

“What?” I ask, and I don’t have to pretend bitchy. I’m there and beyond.

“What did he say?”

Sighing loud enough that he understands my displeasure, I say, “He threatened me. If I tell anyone, I’ll regret it.”

“Tell what?”

This is where I have to be careful because technically, the senator shouldn’t even know who I am. At least not in the context that he does.

Shrugging, I meet his gaze and say, “He saw me once with John.”

Bastion glances over his shoulder, and I follow his gaze before he turns back to me. “Did you fuck him?”

“What? No. Jesus,” I mutter, pushing against his shoulder.

He doesn’t budge, and through clenched teeth, I say, “I was in there for like five minutes.”

He merely raises a brow. “Before?”

Shaking my head, I close my eyes. We’re going to be here a while if he plans on grilling me about that.

“That’s a yes?” His eyes are icy, and I match him with a sneer. “No, Bastion. I never fucked him. Guys like that don’t want a girl who fights back.”

His hand drops away, and I avert my gaze because I can’t do this. Not with him.

“Let’s go,” he rasps.

“Where?” I ask warily, relief flooding my limbs.

I’m grateful for the reprieve, but what’s next? Parade John before me? Shit.

Bastion doesn’t bother to respond, and I slip my arm through his with another sigh.

We enter the main space, and I tip my chin up as I search for the senator, the deadliest foe in this damn place. I don’t see him and relax marginally, accepting a glass of champagne from a waiter with a weak smile.

The man’s lips curl up, but his eyes are frosty, causing me to pause with the glass at my mouth. Why do I get the feeling he’s more than just the waiter?

Dropping my hand, I cradle the drink and turn away, my lips tingling. Thankfully, I didn’t swallow anything, but the reminder was what I needed.

Trust no one. Not even at a swanky event full of rich fuckers.

We mingle for a while longer until I spy Harrison leave with his wife. As soon as he’s through the door, Bastion murmurs something I can’t hear and pulls me to the door.

I’m so eager to be gone, I pass B, only to pause when I hear my name.

“Iris.” Again? Was I a bad person in another life? Oh right, I’m on the fast track for that award now.

Swinging around, I falter before mustering a weak smile. No way. It can’t be, but it is. What the fuck is he doing here? And why would he approach me?

“Yes?” My halfhearted attempt to pretend I don’t know the fucker goes by the wayside when Diem’s lips curl into a devilish smirk. “That’s all you’ve got? Cold-hearted.”

Bastion goes rigid while I stare daggers. What’s his game? Does he know the position he’s putting me in?

---