Page 57 of Wicked God
The crowd seems to swell around me, faces blurring together in a haze of smiles and jewels and expectation. I check our table, empty except for a half-drunk glass of champagne and Olivia’s silk wrap draped over her chair. I scan the dance floor again, the edges of the room, the small conversational groupings near the columns. Nothing.
Maybe she stepped out to take a call? Tiffany had been trying to reach her earlier. Or perhaps she’s in the powder room, touching up her makeup after our earlier reception line left little time for such things. Perfectly reasonable explanations, yet the knot in my stomach tightens.
I spot Cameron by the bar, his lanky frame easily visible as he leans against the marble countertop, nursing what looks like scotch.
“Cam,” I say, approaching him. “Have you seen Olivia?”
His usual easy smile fades as he takes in my expression. “I was about to ask you the same thing, man.” He straightens, setting his drink down. “Is everything okay?”
“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t it be?”
Cameron hesitates, glancing around before lowering his voice. “She left, Alex. About fifteen minutes ago. Looked pretty upset, too.”
Upset?
My stomach drops. “Left? What do you mean she left?”
“I saw her heading for the exit. Tried to catch up to her, but she was moving fast. By the time I got outside, she was alreadyin your car.” He studies my face, concern deepening in his eyes. “She seemed pretty shaken up, man. What happened?”
Fifteen minutes ago. Right when I was on the balcony with Elena. The realization makes me nauseous.
“Did she say anything to you? Anything at all?” I press, my voice tight with rising panic.
Cameron shakes his head. “Didn’t get the chance. But Alex, she was crying. And not like, elegant single-tear crying. The real deal.”
“Shit.” I run a hand through my hair. “She must have seen me with Elena on the balcony.”
“Elena?” Cameron’s eyebrows shoot up. “Your ex-Elena? What the hell was that about?”
“Nothing. It was nothing. She cornered me outside, trying to stir up old history.” I pull out my phone, already scrolling for my driver’s contact. “I need to go. Now.”
“You want me to cover for you?” Cameron offers, already shifting into damage control mode. “I can say you got an urgent call or something.”
“Please.” I don’t have time to worry about people’s reaction to my early departure.
I press James’s number as I weave through the crowd toward the service exit, hoping to avoid photographers and well-wishers. The line rings three times before he answers.
“Mr. Hawthorne?” James’s voice is steady as always.
“James, did you drive Ms. Carter home earlier?” I ask, pushing through a door into a quieter hallway.
“Yes, sir. A few minutes ago. She asked to be taken to her apartment.”
The confirmation sends another wave of anxiety through me. “How was she? Was she alright?”
There’s a pause on the line, the kind that speaks volumes. “I wouldn’t say so, sir. She seemed... distressed.”
“I need a car at the east entrance immediately. I’m going to Olivia’s.” I quicken my pace, loosening my bow tie as I go.
“I’m currently waiting for Senator Hawthorne, sir. Should I send another driver, or—”
“No. Just come now. My father can use another car.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be there in three minutes.”
I end the call, shoving the phone back in my pocket as I navigate the service corridors of the estate. My mind races with what Olivia might have seen, what she might be thinking. Elena’s hand on my face. Our bodies close together in the moonlight. Without context, without hearing my rejection, the scene would look damning.
I pull out my phone again, dialing Olivia’s number. Her recorded voice asks me to leave a message. I hang up and try again immediately. Same result.
