Page 66 of Dating Goals
I open the door, half-expecting to see Griffin, but he’s not there. I’m so distracted, I nearly collide with a woman standing directly in my path.
“Sorry, my fault,” I mumble, sidestepping to avoid her.
The woman doesn’t move. She’s elegant in a silver sheath dress that hugs her slim frame, her blonde hair pulled into a sleek chignon. Her cool, assessing eyes lock onto mine as her wine glass tilts, almost in slow motion.
Dark red splashes across the front of my beautiful dress.
I gasp, looking down at the spreading stain.
“Oh dear,” she says, her British accent crisp. “What a terrible accident.”
“It’s okay, I can?—”
Before I can even continue, a man in an impeccably tailored suit appears beside me, his hand gripping my elbow with casual authority.
“Excuse me, sir!”
The man’s grip tightens just enough to signal this isn’t a request. “Let’s step back inside, shall we?” he says with a smooth British accent, steering me back inside the restroom.
The bathroom door clicks shut behind us, the man’s broad shoulders blocking the exit, and with a casual flick of his wrist, he locks the door.
My pulse hammers in my throat. “What are you?—”
“We have ninety seconds before the target suspects our presence,” he says to the woman, completely ignoring me.
The woman stands between me and the sinks, while the man leans against the door. I’m trapped between them like a rabbit about to get eaten by wolves.
“What do you want?” I demand, my voice embarrassingly squeaky. “If you’re planning to rob me, I should warn you I left my wallet at home.”
The woman pulls a compact from her clutch and checks her reflection. “Your hockey player,” she says, snapping it shut. “How well do you know him?”
I blink rapidly, trying to process. “I…We’re just…”
“He’s not who you think he is,” the man says cryptically.
The air suddenly feels too warm, too still. “Griffin? What are you talking about?”
The woman leans closer. “Yourdateis in over his head, and he’s playing a very dangerous game with people who don’t lose gracefully.”
“Who are you people?” I demand, thinking I could probably take these two on if it came down to it. I’d hate to fight in this dress though.
They exchange a look that communicates volumes in silence.
“Friends. Of a sort,” the man says, which is absolutely not an answer. “And you should be grateful we found you first.”
“First, before what?” My voice rises. “What is happening?”
The woman steps around me, encroaching upon my space until I back up against the vanity. “The less you know, the better. For both of you.”
“Sixty seconds,” the man says, checking his watch.
“Is this some kind of joke?” I ask, though nothing about their expressions suggests humor.
“Do we look like we’re joking?” The man’s voice drops lower. “You need to get your boyfriend out of here. Now.”
“Griffin isn’t my boyfriend,” I correct automatically, then shake my head. “And why…?”
“Because,” the woman cuts in. “he’s either in danger or he is the danger. And you don’t want to wait around to find out which.”
