Page 45 of Sweetest Revenge

18

ADDISON

I took the hand of the valet as I shakily stepped out of Warren’s car.

My stomach was in knots, and bile was threatening to rise to my mouth.

Warren was by my side in seconds, his tight-fitted suit and slightly open button-up making me even more nervous than the possibility of throwing up in front of all these people.

His brown hair threaded with gray was pushed back, and his beard had been neatly trimmed for the event. There was a new shiny watch on this wrist and even shinier black shoes. He even had a pocket square that matched the color of my dress.

He looks too fucking hot.

His hands were on my waist, holding me upright, something that might have looked like he actually cared to anyone else. But I knew differently, and his next stinging words were just a reminder of that.

“I didn’t know you had such a weak stomach,” he commented, his hand sneaking around my waist and sending bursts of heat through me. As much as his tone annoyed me, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting him.

Get your shit together.

I regretted ever giving him that blow job. Seeing him come undone created a Warren that wasn’t real. That was just in my head.

One that I wanted more than I hated.

“You didn’t tell me we would have to go up a remote mountain where the roads resembled cooked spaghetti,” I hissed and leaned on him for support. His body was hard and warm against me. It was all too easy to melt into him as my stomach flipped—and not just from the nerve-racking drive.

I couldn’t stand windy roads. Or roller coasters. Anything that made my stomach flip would almost always ensure I'd lose my lunch.

But what made it worse was that it took two fucking hours to get there. Two hours on the road with Warren. Alone. And then thirty minutes up a windy road leading up to some remote fucking place.

Swallowing the spit that pooled in my mouth, I tried desperately to appear like I was prepared for the evening. I forced a fake smile on my face and continued to lean into Warren like we were long-time lovers and not at all like I wanted his head on a platter for the death of my father.

I looked up at the bright manor-like structure in front of us. It reached high, its long-pointed peaks looking sharp enough to gut the sky. The windows were large, and light bled out from them, splashing onto the garden below. They’d been recently washed, the evidence in how crystal clear they were, allowing us a perfect view of the art inside. There was a line of paparazzi and journalists, their cameras flashing as couples entered the long stone staircase up to the door.

Each and every couple was posing for the cameras with blinding smiles. I was ninety percent sure that more than a few of the people here were actual royals from small European countries.

Just like us, the girls were dressed to the nines in shimmery gowns that sparkled with each flash, while the men were dressed in tuxes and had their hair pushed back.

My heart lodged in my throat when people started to turn to us. As a child, I loved the cameras. Loved showing them my new dresses and twirling for them.

I had turned into an attention-seeker from the very moment I found out people only cared when you made noise.

Maybe it was because Father and Mother were always so busy, always in their heads, and the only way to get them out of it was by being loud.

That changed after the fallout. All I wanted was to disappear into the background in hopes no one would look twice at me for fear that they might find out exactly what my family had done.

Just like the nurses at the hospital. My reputation had a life of its own and was constantly haunting me, making sure I was painfully reminded of everything the moment I started to forget.

“Smile for the cameras, baby,” Warren whispered, his hot breath brushing across my face. He was almost close enough to kiss. The moment in the room came slamming back into me.

I almost gave in.

Even now, I couldn’t stop my head from turning to him, our lips just a breath away. My eyes lingered on them before I met his gaze from under my lashes.

His eyes were already on my lips as if he was thinking the same thing before they slowly met mine again. They were dark, and his pupils were dilated, just like that night.

Need slammed into me so hard, I had to hold my breath to keep from letting out a shaky exhale that would one hundred percent tell Warren exactly what I was thinking.

How could something as simple as a kiss feel so… forbidden? So exciting? So tempting?

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