Page 50 of Million Dollar High

About to turn away, he froze when a name caught his eye.

Snyder. And seated right next to him… Leia.

16

Leia’s wrist throbbed like a son of a bitch.

In a hurry to leave after the hotel doctor had examined her, she’d forgotten to take the painkillers he’d provided.

Sitting at her table in the stunning gala ballroom, she gingerly massaged the tensor bandage. Despite her injury being ruled a mild sprain rather than a break, it ached badly. She bit her lip as a dart of pain shot up her arm.

God, it hurt…

But the pain didn’t compare to the absolute emotional devastation she’d experienced when she’d walked into the room and seen Noah with his arm around a statuesque redhead.

They’d been so absorbed in each other that he hadn’t noticed Leia frozen beside his table for a good half minute.

Only a blind fool would’ve missed the familiarity between him and his buxom friend. Even then, Leia had been unwilling to accept it. Until the redhead had leaned in and whispered in his ear. Leia had watched her red lips mouth the word “fuck,” and a dagger had speared deep into Leia’s heart.

Perhaps sensing her agony, Noah had finally raised his headfrom the no doubt scintillating conversation, but only to grace Leia with a dismissive glance before doing that half smile thing.

Then his gaze had dropped to her bandaged wrist. He’d vaulted upright in his seat, his face transformed into a furious mask.

The head usher, whispering urgently that Leia really needed to take her seat, had been the prompt her feet needed to carry her away from Noah.

The last hour had passed in an excruciating cauldron of hell. Although her seat was out of his direct eye line, she could feel Noah’s gaze boring mercilessly into her from his executive table. She’d barely touched her food, nor been able to force down more than a mouthful of water.

They were ten minutes away from the Krug & Regroup interval. From past experience, she knew it was the power half-hour when deals were struck over more booze and expensive cigars. Once that was over, the keynote speaker, Noah King—oh God—would give his speech.

She risked a glance over her shoulder. His blue eyes hooked into hers, furious and demanding. The redhead leaned closer and whispered in his ear again. He gave another lip twitch but his eyes didn’t release Leia’s.

Beside her, a masculine throat cleared. “Did my flowers arrive?”

Leia pried her gaze from Noah’s, past the redhead’s fingers, which now caressed his neck, and faced forward.

“You cannot ignore me for the whole evening,” Warren pressed. “My actions were… unfortunate. You set me straight in no uncertain terms. I’d like to think we can draw a line under it and move on?”

She finally deigned to look at him, her stomach roiling in sickening memory. “I asked to be moved from this seat. Unfortunately,the doctor who was called to attend my sprained wrist was unavoidably delayed. The charity hostess thought I wasn’t coming, so they didn’t bother to move me. That is the only reason I’m sitting next to you. Do yourself a favor and pretend I’m not here because I intend to do likewise.” She turned and smiled at the guest to her right, cradling her wounded wrist in her lap to avoid anyone noticing how badly she was shaking.

The moment the MC announced the interval, she excused herself and jumped up. From the corner of her eye, she saw Noah rise too. She made it to the ladies’ room and collapsed into an empty stall. Half expecting him to storm in after her, she sat on the toilet, her heart in her throat. It took several minutes for her heart rate to drop from runaway-freight-train to speed-hound pace. And for her to wonder whether she’d blown the whole thing out of proportion. Had Noah really been that interested in her, or had he been getting up to attend to someone else, like the redhead?

Her stomach churned with acid jealousy as she shakily rose and flushed the toilet she hadn’t used. Opening the stall door, she went to the sink as three women walked in—including the redhead.

Fucking A.

Socialite Number One, the blonde in the group, checked herself out in the mirror, before leaning forward to tidy up her re-applied lipstick with the corner of a tissue.

“Brandon’s getting on my last fucking nerve with this threesome bullshit. It’s his birthday next week. I think I’ll just do it, get it over and done with.”

“Hmm, make sure you set the rules before anything goes down. Mine got a little awkward when Stanley tried to make it an ongoing thing. He claims I said he could have one whenever he pleased,” Socialite Number Two huffed. “As if I’d want someskank rolling around in my Sferra Milos sheets every other night of the week.”

They dissolved into giggles fueled by too many glasses of champagne. Socialite Number Two turned to the redhead.

“So what’s going on with you and the yummy Mr. King? We saw you two cozying up earlier.” She smacked her lips together in rapid succession. “God, if I didn’t love my Stanley, I’d hit that with everything I’ve got and then some.”

Redhead swept her fiery curls over one bare shoulder and gave a sultry smile. “My lips are firmly sealed. But I can guarantee they won’t be later.” She winked and more giggles ensued.

Leia stood frozen at the sink, her face drained white enough to give a Geisha a run for her money, as the trio trailed past her and out the door.

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