Page 91 of Point of No Return

“Tell me everything,” she twists toward me, the full, floral skirt of her dress brushing my knees.

“Vacation was deplorable, and I wouldn’t recommend it for anyone,” I drab, and she gives a knowing look as she takes a slow sip of her martini. “How is business? The father? Love life?”

Her eyes widen a fraction before she shrugs. “Wonderful, shitty, and equally shitty. I had a date last night actually.”

I raise a brow as she downs the rest of her drink.

Not a keeper then.

“That bad?”

She winces. “I paid for both of us, and he asked if it would be better to go to his place or mine after.”

My drink lodges in my throat, and I have to cough to get it down. “No,” I murmur.

“Yes…”

“And?”

“And…” she purses her lips. “I’m tired of every guy or girl I meet being like the rest. When someone comes along and they’re better than being alone, I might consider another date. But for now, I’m swearing it off.”

I laugh at the casual shrug of her shoulders. “I like the idea actually. Fuck ‘em.”

“No,” she giggles, the alcohol already hitting us both. “That’s the point. No fucking-”

“Do your dates usually end with bruises on your wrist?” Crew says from behind, and when I glance down, I flood with shame.

Two dark marks around her wrists are scantily clad with makeup. The bruises are obvious enough to recognize the shape immediately: Handprints.

Her smile falls. “Are you always so curious about people that aren’t your clients?” comes Liv’s sharp reply.

Crew’s voice has dropped an octave. “Only when they’re lying.”

I shove Crew off the stool without looking at him, my message clear enough already. “Find somewhere else to be.”

I’ll deal with him later.

Irritation is rolling off of him now, but I meet Liv’s eyes again. She’s watching as Crew slowly rolls his neck from side to side before strolling away. I grab her hands, dragging her attention back to me.

“What the hell happened?”

“I… Well, my date was just a bit handsy.”

“Liv…”

“I’m okay,” she assures me, blue eyes bright. “I mean it. Just rattled.”

“Is this another tool your dad set you up with?”

Her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Maybe. But I’ve learned my lesson there.”

My heart clenches again. “People should never learn lessons at the end of a fist.”

“I know. But it’s over now. That’s what matters,” she offers another bright smile. My eyes sweep over her for any other sign of damage. “You’re sureyou’reokay? You look tired.”

Tired, yes. More tired than I thought.

“I am. Things at home are complicated, but you shouldn’t worry about me.”

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