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More laughter.

I force a tight smile, staring down at the table. Their voices blur together.

“…looks like he could use some unwinding if you know what I mean.”

“Sophie said he likes choking.”

Laughter, catcalls.

Each word stabs at me like a knife. I dig my nails into my palm. Not here. Not now.

The waiter arrives with another round of drinks. I grab mine hastily, taking a big gulp.

“Mary, what do you think?” Jill nudges my shoulder. “You know Connor better than any of us.”

All eyes turn to me, eager and curious.

Chapter 23

Mary

Do I? I know exactly how he sounds when he comes undone. That he’s always eating the vegetables before the meat, something about better digestion, or that while he’s working, his face turns emotionless, a complete contrast to how his face and eyes seem to light up when he sees me. But am I?

“I don’t… I don’t know. Connor’s pretty private. I don’t really know anything about his personal life.”

Not a lie, because I don’t even know where he is right now. For all I know, he could be fucking Sophie right now.

“Oooh, so mysterious!” Sara croons. “Oh, Sophie just wrote. She’ll be joining soon. You think she’ll bring Mr. IT with her?”

Connor wouldn’t do that, would he?

Jill shrugs, her attention already wandering. “Don’t care. More for us.”

Mystomach churns as I stare into my drink. The alcohol isn’t helping, but I can’t stop sipping. There’s this sick feeling rising in my gut.

I stand up abruptly, the room spinning. I need air. Now.

Clutching my purse, I take a step, and my heel catches on the leg of the table. I stumble forward, barely catching myself on the edge before I faceplant into the floor.

“Whoa, easy there!” Tom is at my side in an instant, his hand gripping my elbow to steady me. I try to tug my arm away but nearly lose my balance again.

“I’m fine.” I sag against him. God, this is humiliating.

“Yeah, sure you are.” Tom holds onto me. “You should head home and get some rest.”

I shake my head, immediately regretting it when the room tilts dangerously. I pat my roiling stomach, willing it to settle.

“I just… I just need some air.”

Tom doesn’t let go, his fingers curled firmly around my arm as he guides me toward the exit. I’m too dizzy and nauseated to protest, letting him support me through the crowded room.

“I’ll call a cab. You’ve had too much to drink.”

“I’m not that drunk!”

“Jill, a little help, please.” Tom stops near the exit.

Seconds later, Jill appears beside me. “Come on, we’ll share a cab.”

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