Page 28 of Ice Cold Hearts
She gestures hard at me with her wine glass, and this time instead of a few droplets landing on the floor, her entire glass of wine splashes on the front of my dress.
If this were a movie, I’d be impressed at how conniving her character was. Her cries of distress and offers of help are genuine, but the upward tilt of her mouth and the narrowness of her eyes make me sure that this was on purpose.
Her squawks draw the attention of several patrons and the nearest bartender. Wordlessly, he puts a wad of paper towels into her outstretched hand.
Even if I had doubts about the deliberateness of her actions—which I don’t—she makes things clear immediately. Liza leans close under the pretense of blotting the worst of it off my dress. She twists into me at an awkward angle, and I realize she’s done it so my dates can’t see her. As soon as she’s sure she can’t be seen, her face loses any trace of innocence as her face morphs into a snarl.
“See what I mean?” she hisses. “Anyone who hangs around Oliver too long ends up getting hurt, and I like to handle things personally. I suggest you keep it strictly friendly with him, understand?”
The rage bubbling over inside me saves me from giving in to my inner child and running away in tears. I don’t usually like feeling angry. I usually just stuff it down until it explodes out of me, but this time, I welcome it like an old friend.
“What I do or don’t do with anyone is none of your business, so you can fuck right off, Liza,” I hiss back.
I take advantage of her shock to pull away from her “help”. I give her my own sticky sweet smile.
“You’re so kind to help me,” I say loudly for the benefit of all the eavesdroppers, “but I’d hate to take away from your evening any more than I have already.” I add a little extra sugar into my tone just to piss her off. “You’re my hero for getting the worst of it off my dress. I’ll take care of the rest myself in the bathroom.”
I sweep away from her before she has a chance to recover and flee to the bathroom. It’s not until I’m safely behind the locked door of a stall that I allow myself to cry.
My body shakes as I force it to have its tempest silently. I will not permit a single noise to escape. The last thing I need is her coming in here and hearing me or someone else reporting to her that I was sobbing in the bathroom. My legs sag under the weight of keeping quiet, and I grip the safety rail in the stall so hard my knuckles are a blinding white.
It’s a while before it all blows over, but when it does, I slip out of the stall on wobbly legs. The bright-eyed girl in the mirror before has been replaced with a deflated, crumbled mess. Every flaw is glaringly obvious. I am too big, too soft, and too out of my depth. I don’t belong here. I should be at home with Audrey instead of trying to date three men who are completely out of my league. What was I thinking?
At least my makeup hasn’t run. Whoever came up with these waterproof products deserves a medal.
If someone got close, they’d see my eyes were puffy, but I was in the stall long enough that they’re barely red. I don’t plan on anyone getting that close, though.
I reach into my jacket pocket and breathe a sigh of relief when my fingers brush fancy cardstock. I’m glad I insisted on keeping my ticket on me when Alexei and I checked our phones and my bag. All I have to do is sneak through the crowd, get my things, and call a cab once I’m outside.
What about the guys?
The thought stops me from leaving. I look back at the mirror. The dress is sheer enough that the areas still damp with wine reveal a lot more of myself than I wanted anyone to see. Alexei thought I was beautiful when we’d fucked in the car, but my dress had stayed on. He didn’t see the stretch marks or the C-section scar. The dimples in my hips and my soft stomach had also been hidden. I was stuffed into this dress like sausage into a casing. It smoothed out all my unsightly lumps.
If he had actually seen what was under here, he wouldn’t have agreed to a redo on our date tonight.
I zip my jacket to hide the worst of the stain and take a breath. My hands grip the sink and I stare at myself.
You are a badass. You will make it out of here. If you can navigate out of a sleeping toddler’s messy bedroom without waking her up, then you can make it out of this club without three men noticing. When you get home, you can dive headfirst into that pint of ice cream you’ve been saving and forget about all of this.
I give myself the best encouraging nod I’m capable of. Then I turn on my heel and stride out of the bathroom.
If there’s any spark of hope that they’ll notice and stop me, I’ve tucked it too deeply away for it to sneak out and slow me down. All I’m focused on is getting out of a place I had no business being in and getting back home where I belong.
10
OLIVER
The crowd at the bar is large, but even so, Emily is taking a long time to get back to our table. Water isn’t a complicated drink to make. You grab a glass, scoop some ice, and fill it up.
A nervous prickle runs down my spine. The club is as safe as it could be, but low risk isn’t no risk. Has something happened to her?
I search the crowd at the bar. Finding her should bring me relief, but it doesn’t. Liza has her cornered by the end of the bar.
Ian should have stayed with her.
I shake my head to banish the thought. None of this is Ian’s fault. This is my problem.
Liza is a powerful force of nature, and when her efforts are focused on the work, I wouldn’t want anyone else on my team. I don’t know if I’d even be with the Cold Hearts if it weren’t for her efforts. Unfortunately, she keeps trying to expand her focus into areas I’m determined to keep private.