Page 143 of Corrupt Me

My muscles strain to the point that any move could snap them. Chest heaving, I breathe heavily through the despondency that becomes unbearable. This is what I get for falling in love, but it’s not like I could have prevented it. My brain is a jumbled mess.

“Her. I need her.” I sound like I feel—desolate.

“She almost ran after you just now. Help her out.”

That imperative need in me to make sure Bailey’s okay makes me dip my head in agreement. Celine and I walk side-by-side back into the ballroom. The music has shifted to something with more pep, right in time for Eric to escort Bailey to the dance floor.

Have we ever danced together? No. I will never get that first again. It’s gone.

Moving to a corner, I pluck another glass of champagne and sulk alone. My friends steal glances at me while heading to the parquet floor to dance. I am happy for them, while misery owns me.

My father approaches with Sebastian. Not in the fucking mood to talk, or do anything but glower, I greet them with a jerk of my chin. I’m living through the most horrible nightmare of my life, and I can’t do anything to stop it from running its course.

“How are you holding up, son?”

“Perfect.” My sarcasm isn’t lost on either of them.

Sebastian leans in and speaks low. “I waited fourteen years to be reunited with the woman I love. While it’s not a competition, patience is something you’ll have to learn.”

For a long time, I thought he was insane, searching for a woman with no concrete proof that she was alive. But now I understand him. I would have no life without Bailey, and I am sure if she’s not there, then everything else would be meaningless.

“I’ll behave. Stop with the intervention,” I tell them both through gritted teeth.

“He’s in love,” my father says, and they look at each other in silent companionship.

“And that makes any man a ticking bomb when the one he’s in love with is so near, yet so far away,” Sebastian adds.

I push myself off the wall, not interested in hearing their opinions.

Like a shadow, I move through the crowds, never letting Bailey out of my sight. She’s wearing her fake smile, a muscle in her jaw ticking from keeping it on that long. I can’t hold her nor assure her that we’ll be fine.

But will we? That nagging thought spills more acid on my brain, dissolving the synapses slowly.

I know it long before it happens. The music shifts to a soulful tune, the quartet playing a song steeped in romance. Even the chandelier lights dim, just like my hopes of this night being a fucked-up scenario my brain came up with in sleep.

The bastard takes her hand in his. My heart pounds, threatening to split my ribcage while I watch the carnage live.

All color drains from her face as she seeks me in the crowd. Tears well in her eyes. Her well-being trumps my own, so I offer her a small smile. Nodding, I give her permission to break my heart.

“I’m sorry,” she mouths.

I believe her, but that doesn’t change the fact that all the promises we made are being shattered as Eric puts that blinding diamond on her finger. He didn’t even get down on his knee. I’d bend both knees and make the world kneel for her.

When she says a shaky yes, a steel pipe pierces my chest, ripping through my heart. They seal the deal with a peck of their lips. She immediately pulls away. But here I am, watching the one I love kissed by a nobody. But that’s not true—he is her fiancé.

While cheers erupt, despair stifles everything around me. My life shifted in an instant, becoming gray and toneless. No more colors, no more sounds. She took those away.

They dance again to another slow melody. Eric pulls her to his chest, his arms locked around her back in a vice grip. Bailey closes her eyes for a moment, trying to put a bit of space between them, but he always redirects her how he wants. To the untrained eye, it looks like she is where she wants to be, keeping up the pretense by smiling and moving gracefully to the rhythm of the music and following his lead. But the flush spreading from her neck to her cheeks is a clear indicator of her frustration. And I can’t bloody help her out of the situation, which guts me even worse. My chest heaves with heavy pants. I can’t keep watching them, or I’ll commit murder right here and now and not care about the consequences.

“Would you like to dance?” a brunette girl asks me.

I hadn’t even noticed her approach. I shake my head at her. She smiles brightly at me, her expression dripping with flirtation like so many before her. But nothing will bring me joy again. Not as long as this situation continues.

Rage and jealousy tear me in two different directions, both wanting to be vindicated.

All my life seems to have been a struggle to survive my mom’s loss, the sexual abuse, and now my heart being severed with a scythe from my chest. While I had years to deal with the first two, I’ll need a lifetime to deal with the latter.

The girl keeps babbling, trying to get my attention by pushing her generous cleavage out in my face. I arch a brow at her. “I’m not interested. Please show yourself some respect and leave.”

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