Page 69 of Before Eve
Am I going to puke? What kind of question is that? “No, I’m fine.” Or at least I was until he said the word “puke.” I hold my hand out. “But give me the garbage can just in case.”
He does and then leans back against the desk and folds his arms over his chest. A chest I know is muscled and gorgeous. “What am I going to do with you?”
I shrug and look away. I have no clue how to answer that. I don’t even know what I’m going to do with myself. I take a swig of water.
“Eve?”
“What?”
His lips twitch. “You’re grumpy when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.” I’m buzzed. Or I was. It doesn’t seem to be there anymore. I sigh. “Just tell me what you want to know.”
“All right.” He pushes away from the desk and walks over to the door, where he rips off my duct tape and turns to me. “Let’s start with this.”
I push to my feet. “That’s none of your business.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks, and somewhere way down deepinside of me, this fist punches up, and out comes a scream as I turn and kick the bed.
He doesn’t even move.
I stomp over to him, yank the tape from his fingers, and shove it down inside my pocket. “You know what? No one willeverwatch me again!”
I pace over to the window, jerk open the curtains, and stand, raggedly breathing, staring out at a twinkle-lit Dallas. “I’m free now, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
In the window’s reflection, West moves, and I spin around. “What?” I snap.
He shakes his head. “Keep going.”
I take a deep breath and pull at the collar of my T-shirt. It’s too hot. I can’t breathe. I finish off the water bottle before stomping over to the wall unit and punching it from 72 down to 65.
I turn, and West is still standing there, watching me. His expression turned cautious, though. My insides feel like they’re clawing, trying to get out. I dig my fingers into my hair, and I pull. I have to get rid of him. I’m about to explode. West shifts over to the chair that occupies the corner and slowly lowers himself into it. He props his elbows on the armrests as if telling me he has infinite patience with my bad mood.
I wave toward the door. “Why don’t you just go back to the party?”
“It’s boring.” And then he chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Who would’ve ever thought I’d say a party’s boring?”
“But Illana’s down there,” I toss out.
He tilts his head. “Illana and I are just friends.”
“Didn’t look that way to me. Who is she, by the way? Why is she always around?”
“She’s Ms. Kelly’s assistant. I thought you knew that.”
Oh…that makes sense.
“Listen, this is not the issue right now. Illana and I are not messing around, and if we were, it’s not your business. You did make itpainfullyobvious you don’t want anything to do with me. I don’t even know why you’re bringing her up.”
He does have a point. “I’m in a bad mood. You should probably leave.” Although I want him to stay. I do want to have this out.
“I’ve got enough patience for both of us.”
I take in his calm demeanor. Is he really that in control? Because I’m anything but.
“What’s up with the duct tape?” he asks again.
My brain scrambles with damage control excuses.
