Page 121 of Wild Thing
“Dylan. Wow,” Steven's voice slid into the air with a loud, obnoxious whistle, his gaze traveling up and down my body like I was a piece of artwork on display.
He slithered into my personal space with a smug grin.
Intrusive motherfucker.
I forced a stiff smile. I wasn't in the mood for him and his predatory bullshit. His casual arrogance could fuck right off.
I wasn’t sure which part of this nightmare was worse: the fact that I was desperately trying to keep my composure around people who had no idea what was really going on, or the knowledge that I was about to be in the same vicinity as Ally, the girlfriend of the man I was having an affair with.
The universe was fucking with me, surely.
Marie suddenly reappeared at my side. She held out a glass of champagne toward me with a small smile. "You look like you might need this?" she said quietly.
I didn't hesitate. I took an immediate sip. “You have no idea.”
Marie’s green eyes glowed in the lighting of the bar. “I see a lot of myself in you, Dylan. Ambitious, sarcastic, stubborn as an ox,"she chuckled quietly. "I don't know what's going on with you, but when I was your age, I was in a relationship with a man. He was dazzling, incredible, funny, smart… I was head over heels. Deeply in love with him. But I played hard to get. I was climbing the ranks as an architect, making a name for myself… eventually, he moved on. Without me of course. I pretended I was fine. That I didn’t need a man, didn’t miss him. But it wasn’t true. I missed him more than anything. I still do.”
This admission into her private life surprised me. “I thought you were–”
“Happy? To be alone?” Marie scoffed softly. “I have all of this success, all of this money… and no one to share it with. I go home to an empty house. No husband, no children. No one.”
That was heartbreakingly sad. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t want you to make the same mistake I did.”
“And what was that?”
“Not following your heart.”
***
The gala dinner was held in the Great Hall, a grand space inside the convention center. Stepping into the foyer, the sheer size of the event was made obvious by the hundreds of people milling about everywhere. Men were dressed in sleek tuxedos, while women floated around in stunning gowns or power suits.
I was on high alert, my eyes scanning the crowd as I searched for Brax, but it was impossible to spot anyone, including Taylor. There were simply too many people meandering in the foyer.
I had managed to down two glasses of champagne at pre-dinner drinks, which had taken the edge off my nerves slightly.
Finally, the entrance to the Great Hall opened, allowing the crowd inside. The room had been transformed into a dazzling spectacle. Giant disco balls hung from the ceiling, catching andrefracting the light, while performers on stilts wandered through the room. A live band played classic rock hits on stage.
If I hadn't been so consumed by the sense of impending doom, I might have been able to appreciate the party atmosphere. Everything about it screamed good times only.
I moved with the crowd, silently hoping that I could make it to my table quickly, avoiding any unnecessary confrontations—especially with Brax. The last thing I needed right now was to be trapped in a conversation with him, or worse, with Ally.
Marie had mentioned our table was number 28.
I wondered where Brax and Ally would be sitting. I hoped it was far away from my table.
The crowd thickened around me as I entered deeper into the room.
I felt a hand slip around my waist, pulling me back. The touch was familiar, the phantom hands unmistakable.
Brax.
I let him guide me away from the group and toward a shadowed corner behind one of the towering pillars that framed the room.
My breath caught in my throat as I pressed my back into it, blending into the darkness and out of the spotlight.
Brax stood in front of me wearing an all-black suit. His jacket was edged with leather, a black shirt underneath. The low lighting played across his face, casting deep shadows that made the tattoos on his neck appear almost black.
