Page 85 of Ruin
“C’mon, birthday girl.” His grin is cocky, his shot glass raised, waiting for me to join him.
“I can’t,” I say quickly, forcing a polite smile.
He shrugs and downs his, while Lexi snatches mine and knocks it back with a wink. She grabs my hand, pulling me into the crush of bodies on the dance floor.
Heat, flashing lights, sweat. Song after song melts together, Lexi’s laugh in my ear, my own voice hoarse from yelling lyrics with her. The liquor has loosened something in me, and for a while I let myself laugh and forget Tommy.
But then Lexi leans close, her words hot against my ear. “So, is this you coming back for real? Or is tonight just a birthday blowout?”
I shrug, hips moving with the beat. “Thinking of moving back to the Village.”
Her eyes go wide. “YES! I need my girl back!”
She suddenly glitters with excitement, her gaze locked behind me. I spin, half-hoping, half-dreading to see Tommy, but it’s the blond guy from the bar, moving to the music behind me. I turn back to Lexi and roll my eyes at herexcitement.
Lexi’s grin turns sly, like I’d ever cheat on Tommy. I’m drunk and angry, but no fucking way I’d do that. Not with anyone. Though, if Tommy were here, we’d be having hot angry sex in the bathroom—fuck it, on the dance floor—if I had my way.
The blond slides behind me, his arms looping around my waist, his breath hot on my neck. “Another drink, birthday girl?”
I peel his hands apart and slip away, spinning to face him with a strained smile. I shake my head, searching for Lexi, but she just waves me toward him, laughing.
When I dance toward her, the blond guy grabs my arm and spins me up against him, running his hands up my back. My dress is backless, so his palms are on my skin. I cringe and pull away.
“I have a boyfriend,” I yell near his ear and shrug with a small smile, trying to dance some space between us.
“And he’s not here? On your 21st?” His grin twists. He grinds into me, his voice dropping. “Fucking stupid.”
My smile vanishes. I shove at his chest, but he clamps down on my waist, dragging me closer.
“I’m not interested,” I snap.
“I am,” he slurs. Fuck, he’s drunk. Panic cuts through my buzz as I shove hard against him, but he suctions his mouth to my neck, sucking my skin.
Then suddenly I’m free.
He’s ripped off me so violently the seam of my dress tears at the waist. I stagger back, hand pressed to the rip, chest heaving.
Tommy. He’s a drunken blur, his dark hair falling looseover his forehead as his fist cracks into the guy’s jaw. One blow, then another, until the guy is nothing but a crumpled heap, and Tommy throws him at the men flanking him.
When he turns, I gasp.
It’s not Tommy. It’s Antonio, his eyes flashing angrily, until they land on me and soften.
I’m so shocked to see him that I don’t say anything at all.
His gaze drops to the tear in my dress, jaw tightening. He leans close so I can hear him over the music. “I’ve got a table upstairs. Want to join me?”
I look around for Lexi, and she gives me a thumbs up as she chats with some guy. I nod at Antonio.
His hand presses lightly on the small of my back, guiding me off the floor. My skin burns where his palm rests, my breath shallow. Upstairs, the bass softens to a low thrum, replaced by the clink of glasses, the buzz of laughter. Booths curve along the walls, waitresses weaving between them with trays of champagne flutes.
Antonio steers me to the back, dismissing the two guys occupying the booth. “Berto, Franco. Go help Jimmy and Dante clean up.”
The one he called Franco leers at me as he gets up, but Berto, Antonio’s little brother, smiles shyly before slipping away. I blink at him. “Oh my God. Berto grew up!”
Antonio half grins. “Well, he got bigger. Can’t say that he grew up.” He waves the waiter over as we slide into the booth. “A bottle of Albarino.” He turns to me. “Unless you’re still drinking vodka tonics?”
Interesting. He remembers my drink. I smile and shake my head. “Water, please.”
