Page 15 of The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

Agent Allister stood inside the doorway with a blonde by his side. She held onto his elbow, and he held my gaze.

You can always tell by the eyes.

I envied him at that moment.

His were an ocean beneath ice, where nothing but the darkest creatures could thrive, while mine were a wide open plain.

He saw everything.

Every bruise.

Every scar.

Every slap against my face.

I didn’t want anyone’s pity, but what drove me even crazier was that he was indifferent to it all. I’d forgotten what his voice sounded like but, somehow, I could hear what he would say to me now.

Suck it up, sweetheart. You know nothing of pain.

Contempt pulsed, hot and heavy, in my chest.

It was irrational, I knew, but I blamed the man for putting the idea of sleeping with Nico in my mind.

I blamed him because it was easy.

I blamed him because he was cold enough it wouldn’t hurt.

The fed’s gaze took in the group of men surrounding me. He looked away, but I saw the brief thought in his eyes before he and his blonde drifted into the crowd. He thought I was a flirt; a tease. He thought I was unfaithful.

And now, I couldn’t even deny it.

Hatred closed around my lungs and stole my breath.

“I was just telling them about how we first met,” Vincent said. “Do you remember?”

I brought my attention back to the group, a hot edge flowing from my chest to my grip on the stem of my glass. Forcing a smile to my lips, I responded, “Of course I do. You bet against my horse and lost, naturally.”

“That, I did.” He dropped his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat with a smile. “But I’m talking about me getting tossed and then asking you to run away with me to Tahiti. And you saying no because you’d already been there, and Bora Bora was next on your list.”

On cue, everyone laughed.

I bit my cheek to hide a smile. “I was trying to save you from embarrassment, but it seems you’re a glutton for punishment tonight.”

“It seems so,” he chuckled. “Morticia is up and running again, and I’m still betting she places this weekend.”

“Oh, Vincent,” I said with disappointment, “you just love to throw your money away, don’t you?”

The crowd grew in size until I couldn’t see beyond it, with bets and horse statistics being tossed into the center.

“Gianna, are you coming to the Fall Meet this weekend?”

“Gianna, are you betting on Blackie?”

“Gianna, what about the afterparty?”

It took thirty minutes to extradite myself from the conversation, and by that time, I’d drunk two glasses of champagne and needed to relieve myself. I used the restroom and then headed toward the donation table, hoping to hand in my check and make a clean exit.

When I saw Allister’s back where he stood in front of the table speaking with one of the socialites in charge of the event, I stopped in my tracks. Hesitation settled in my stomach, and I took a step in the opposite direction, but, No way. I hated the man, though what I loathed even more was that his presence intimidated me.