Page 37 of Vow of Revenge
“I’m sorry.”
“Fuck that, Freya.” He ruffled his hair, rubbed his palms over his clean shaven face and turned away.
I had to find Syrah and warn her about the potential drama storming her way. Walking quickly in six-inch sparkly gold sandals and a long form fitting dress was a nightmare. I nodded politely and squeezed behind guests who competed to hear each other over the string quartet.
Spotting Syrah at the bar, I waved over, but she didn’t see me. Brett thumbed her cheek the exact moment I raised my arm and her eyes closed for a beat.
“Freya.”
Cynthia Anderson, executive editor of Glimmer, latched my elbow. She was sickly thin, like everything she ate fell out of her hours later. Her pallid grey hair was scooped back in a chignon with wispy stragglers floating before her ears. The years had not been kind, perhaps due to the relentless chain smoking and vodka consumption that took part in her daily routine. Beady black eyes sank into her small head, and her thin puckered lips were painted in an invasive purple gloss that only highlighted her yellowing teeth. Regardless of her appearance, Cynthia was a pleasure to work for – unless you pissed her off, and then she took aim and fired with all cylinders.
Bony fingers tightened. “Pretty little thing aren’t you! I adore your lip colour, Freya. You must give me the exact colour and brand.” Her voice was raspy, a prime example of smoking yourself to death.
“I’ll get you one, Cyn. It’s no problem.” Yes, I was a suck ass when it came to her. She gave me the job, picking me over countless others in the running. Apparently, there was something about my writing that resonated with her. Cyn had my back, guarding me from the bitches on the sixth floor, but tonight I needed to have my sisters back.
“Do you think that colour would look good on me?” Her neck tilted with the poise of a swan.
“Yeah, it would.”Sure, why not, you’ve already got one foot in the grave, why not go out with a bang and wear whatever lippy shade you want.
If she cut out the cigarettes then maybe, just maybe, she could salvage something from her withered complexion, except the woman savoured each and every puff with enjoyment.
Patting her hand, I smiled widely. “I’m sorry to rush off, Cyn, but I need to have a quiet word with my sister.”
Cyn’s thin lips pouted. “You mean that one over there with, Brett De Courcy?” Her chin jutted out. “I think you’ve just missed her. It looks like she’s nipping out for a quickie.” Cynthia’s gaze followed Brett as he led Syrah through the side exit.
“Yes, that one.” I sighed. “If I don’t hurry, I’ll miss my chance, please excuse me. I’ll find you later this evening and we can chat more about colours and shades.”
Cynthia released my arm, nodding in approval.
I retraced Syrah’s steps which took me to a carpeted corridor with numerous doors. Picking left, I trotted towards the toilet sign, hoping they hadn’t started… whatever it was they intended to do. The large toilet door was locked. I knocked loudly only to be greeted by an elderly man who yelled back at me. They weren’t in there.
“Is it urgent?” The hairs on my neck lifted.
Looking back over my shoulder, I drew in a steadying breath. It was him. Kaleb De Courcy was poured into an exquisite limb hugging midnight black tuxedo, every inch of it cut and tailored just for him. The silver rings on each finger glistened when his hand met his chin and wicked blue eyes trailed down my body like he was stripping me naked.
“Well?” A rakish grin spread across dark stubble.
“I’m looking for my sister.”
“In the toilet?”
“I’ve no idea where she is. I followed her out here.”
The corner of his mouth rose ever so slightly. “If I remember correctly, that’s how we first met. Before…” He stepped into me.
My heart flipped in acrobatic somersaults, like stupid cupid had just pinged a flaming arrow. It pounded heavily in my ribcage, drawn to his hypnotic charm. I could have sworn my crazy heart wanted to escape on a mission to unite our beating hearts as one, but that was just a romantic fantasy.
“Indeed,” I muttered. “Have you seen them?”
He slid a hand into his snug trouser pocket. “Nope. Not tonight,” he replied with an air of who cares. “I’m more interested in someone else.”
I gulped back the yearning, my body deceiving me. All I wanted to do was crawl all over him. “And who are you interested in tonight, Kaleb?” My hands found my hips because I needed somewhere to put them so I wouldn’t fidget with his zipper.
“You,” he said simply.
My breathing hitched. “Really, Kaleb? After you sent me home the other night, alone?”Don’t fall for his charm.
His gaze lingered in my cleavage. “There’s one thing you need to do for me. A debt I told you I wanted to claim.”
