Page 46 of Mad Rivals
I’m not quite sure how I’m going to get through this night, but one thing is clear.
I need a fucking drink. Stat.
I stand on my mother’s far side as we pass by the Bradley Group, and I don’t dare make eye contact with a single one of them as I pretend I’m overly interested in walking into the ballroom.
I don’t care about this ballroom. I don’t much care about this event, to be honest. I just want the ground to swallow me up. I just want to go home, slip into pajama pants, and bury myself under my covers with a good book—on my Kindle app on my phone since I still haven’t replaced my stolen Kindle.
I beeline for the bar and get a glass of wine. I should’ve opted for something stronger to hit the tipsy scale a little faster, but thisisa professional event, and I suppose getting drunk is a poor choice. Besides, wine is my favorite. I only drink vodka when I want to numb or get tipsy.
I turn with my wine to find my parents again when I bump directly into a chest blocking my way.
“Nowhere to run,” he says, and his eyes positively burn down on mine. He seems…angry? “You’re stunning tonight, Kennedy. Did you do something different with your hair? And that dress…” He trails off as his eyes sweep down my form, and my body heats with each place his eyes land.
“Get out of my way,” I demand, and he chuckles.
“Not without finding out why you’re avoiding me.”
“Are you serious, Madden? You want to do this now?”
“Well, no. I wanted to do it last Friday, but you ran scared.” He nods at the bartender. “What’s on tap?”
I move to escape him as he listens to his options, but he grabs onto my upper arm, halting me where I am. I’m not going to make a scene by ripping my arm away despite how tempted I am.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he hisses, low enough that I’m the only one who hears his words over the loud din of gala music and chatter, and then to the bartender, he says with a much friendlier tone, “I’ll try the Goose Island.”
The bartender fulfills the request, and he drops my arm once he has his drink. He turns toward me, those eyes still burning down at me. “We need to talk.”
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
I contemplate what to tell him. I’d really like to just avoid him altogether, but he’s not giving me that option.
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask.
“About why you got mad at me and ran off.”
“Because, Madden,” I practically spit at him. I lower my voice and lean in toward him so nobody overhears us. “Because you gave me the hottest kiss of my life and abruptly ended it like it was all some big mistake to you.”
His jaw slackens. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know,” I hiss. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” I move to walk away, but his words stop me.
“The car was there.”
I turn around. “Huh?” I ask rather dumbly.
“The car was there, Kennedy. My phone buzzed to let me know, and maybe you’ve never taken an Uber, but if you don’t get into the car, they drive away. I didn’t end the kiss because of regret. The only regret I felt was that I had to end it.”
It’s my turn for a slackened jaw. “You…you don’t regret it?”
He shakes his head as his eyes gleam at me. “Far from it. I was going to invite you back to my place, but you ran. Hatefully, might I add.”
I clear my throat as I feel the heat creep into my cheeks. Oh, God. Now I’m mortified for a completely different reason.
Why does this man keep doing this to me?
I want him, but I still kind of hate him. And I’m supposed to be staying far away from him, not allowing myself to give in to his brand of temptation.
