Page 51 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part One

Another ping from my computer.

Deciding to leave the couple to themselves, I settle at my computer to check the messages before I head out. I want to leave them, but who am I kidding? If I don’t read them now, I’ll think about them all night.

I’m gonna have fun, damn it.

The first email is from the class ring manufacturer, reminding me to order my ring now so it arrives in time for graduation.

The next is from my father, and my brows bunch the more I read of his message.

I know you don’t check the group thread, but maybe you’ll check your email. I would really like you to come to church this weekend. Your mama needs help with the sick and shut-in visits, and there’s someone I’d like you to meet.

Pain in my left eye socket causes me to check my face, and I realize I’m squinting.

Meet someone? Who?

I almost forget to check the last email when I absently notice the notification icon still illuminated. Popping back over to my inbox, I ready myself to delete another reminder or piece of junk mail when?—

I cover my mouth when a gasp slips out. There are three new emails at the top of my inbox, but my eyes gloss over the other two senders and focus on the one that stands out like a calling card.

From: Storm Sandoval

My brain spins and spins, and I put my hand on my stomach to breathe deeply when heat surges to the part of me that seems to always wake up anytime Storm Sandoval is in the mix. I can’t stop thinking about him. I want to, but I can’t.

Maybe he can’t stop thinking about me, either.

I count down from five, breathing with great intention, and click open the email.

And my stomach drops.

Thanks for sending over your draft. I’ve edited and submitted it to Hansen.

S

I feel stupid. I feel so damn stupid. What was I expecting? A declaration of love from a man I’ve spoken to only five times?

…even if one of those times included soul-stealing kisses?

“Pull yourself together, Shae,” I say aloud, keeping my voice low. I ball my hands into fists. It’s better this way. If he has me this tied up just from a meaningless kiss, what would he do to me if we went further?

I’d completely lose myself.

Pushing away from the desk, I lower the laptop lid and decide to leave the rest of the messages for tomorrow.

I stride to my room, already deciding to pull out the most daring dress I own—the one Yenn picked up in Italy that I’ve never had the courage or occasion to wear.

Tonight is about fun. Not Storm Sandoval.

It’ll never be about Storm Sandoval.

“What areyou trying to get into after this?” Another drink lands in my hand as the man—an investment banker who works in the Loop—leans against the bar. Yenn and I arrived at Velour ready for us both to get some action since, as predicted, her situationship with Alicia is done and dusted.

But then Yenn caught sight of one of her exes, and the night’s gone downhill ever since. Well, for her. She still insisted we stay, despite my protests, because “she won’t let me end the night without adding some new dick to my roster.”

She put an apple martini in my hand and commanded me to drink.

Somewhere between glasses two and three, the investment banker showed up and guided us back to the bartender to put the next round on his tab.

I think his name is Jared. Maybe Jason?

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