Page 80 of Let's Be Forever

I glower at him. “No, we won’t. Move.”

Sylas steps back, and his soft eyes rove over me. “You look…” He exhales a sharp breath. “You look divine. I hate that you’re wearing this dress and that he gets to see you in it.”

“You’re seeing me.”

“It’s not the same,” he bites out.

I glance down the hall and know I should leave, but I stall. His eyes ground me, his hand caresses mine, and his words set me on fire.

“I gotta go.”

“This is torture.” He sounds devastated as he shifts out of my way.

So was hearing you say it was over, I want to say, but I don’t. Still, it does enough to remind me why I’m here with Jackson.

33

SYLAS

“Promiseme you’re not going to hit him,” Marc says.

I feel his eyes watching me closely, carefully, on alert as if he’s worried any minute now I’m going to lunge at the man Anna is with.

It feels like someone took a stake to my heart and is repeatedly stabbing me. Having to watch them together is killing me. He has his hands on her, he’s making her laugh, he’s buying her drinks, he’s doing all the things that I should be doing.

I want nothing more than to punch him, but I won’t. There are eyes on me everywhere, and anything I do will be heavily scrutinized. Not only would this reflect poorly on Anna, but also my team, and my agent.

I’m also not an idiot. I’m not going to let my emotions get the best of me. I know better.

“I’m not going to hit him.” I grind my molars, taking a swig of my beer.

I’m sitting in the VIP section, so I have a good view of them. The best view, actually, and it’s testing my patience. I won’t hit him, but I’m thinking about it every two seconds.

I wasn’t supposed to be here, but Marc and the guys came, and as soon as he saw Anna, he texted me.

“You sure? Because you’re looking at him like you could kill him,” he says dubiously, eyeing me up and down. “People are watching.”

“That’s why I’m here and she’s there,” I answer irritably, clutching the bottle in my hand hard. I briefly look away, needing a few seconds to corral every ounce of my patience. “But I’ll need you to punch me if she goes home with him. I don’t care what you do but knock my ass out.”

It’s either that or I drink into oblivion. It was one thing to imagine Anna moving on, but having to witness it is another kind of pain.

“So is this where I punch you?” Marc chuckles awkwardly, scratching the nape of his neck.

My gaze snaps in their direction. I don’t think I’m breathing as I watch him escort her out. A kaleidoscope of colors shines on her beautiful, flushed face. She’s laughing and smiling wide, and he’s mirroring her elation.

“Fuck, I can’t do this. I need to get out of here.” I slam the bottle on the table. I think it falls, spilling everywhere, but I can’t bother to pick it up or look at Marc who follows behind me.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Why don’t you come back to mine and?—”

I can’t breathe. Every inhale feels like a saw to my lungs. “I’m going home.”

“Sy—”

“Marcello, not right now,” I bite out. “I’m not an idiot. Don’t worry about me.”

I heading out, slow enough to give them enough time to leave. When I arrive home, I don’t leave my car. I can’t stop playing the images of Anna and the guy together, rememberinghow he had his hands on her, how happy she looked when they left.

Dropping my head on the steering wheel, I close my eyes. I keep wondering how I can make things better, how I can earn her trust and forgiveness.