Page 36 of Pick Six

With that he slides his hand up, higher and higher, until he’s near the point of indecency, especially at an event like this. His fingers curve over between my legs and I’m biting my tonguehardto keep from having any sort of visible reaction to him. Because we’re in the middle of a very fancy fundraising awards dinner, and I’m supposed to be the good girl on her best behavior who makes him look better.

But fuck that.

I take a picture of his hand with his tattooed knuckles wrapped around my thigh. Then I flip to the sext he just got and upload the picture to it, typing out the words “Busy right now.” I slide the phone back to him, raising an eyebrow in return, waiting to see whether or not he’ll do it.

He glances down, reads it, and hits send without hesitating. I can’t help the tiny grin that crosses my lips.

But it’s only a moment later and a text comes back though.

DH

Lose her. You know I’m the best fuck you get.

“Wow.” I shake my head.

Doesn’t know a thing about me and thinks she’s that much better. Now I’m in the mood to fight. He brings out the worst in me. I take the phone and he doesn’t stop me. I pull up the little text window again.

Interesting. He said you were mediocre in your best moments. I can send you a video of his face between my thighs later if you’re feeling nostalgic though.

I don’t wait for his permission this time, in part because I’m afraid I won’t get it. I hit send before I slide the phone back to him. He reads what I’ve written, and I watch his face contort.

“Saint…” my nickname is a choked whisper, and I’m pleased that I’ve managed to shock him just a tiny bit.

I drink the last of my cocktail, and just then there’s loud clapping and a shuffle of things up on stage. The break in action gives me an opportunity to slip away without making a scene.

“I need a refill,” I say quietly. I glance at Violet who nods, excusing myself from the table, thankful that we’re near a door where my exit will go largely unnoticed. Because what I really need is air. Something to return oxygen and blood flow to my brain so I can stop being jealous over Alex.

I need to remember—none of this matters. I’d given him a hard time about talking to other women and seeing them because us faking it requires that we both not be caught out doing something stupid. But if he was quiet about it, it would be fine. I probably shouldn’t deny him the opportunity since I obviously shouldn’t be getting anywhere near him. After that kiss we had that threatened to drag me under and lose all sense of reason, the last thing I need is to get caught up in the riptide that is Alexander Xavier.

I laugh at myself as I head to the bar and smile at the bartender.

“A paloma, please.” I smile at him, and he nods, moving quickly to assemble the ingredients for me.

Thank God for open bars on nights like this one.

NINETEEN

Alex

I findher where she said she’d be, getting a refill of her drink. I approach her slowly because she seems distracted, and I don’t want to scare her.

“Saint…” I say softly but it still makes her jump a little.

She doesn’t bother to look back at me which cuts.

“I’m coming back in a minute. I just needed a refill.”

The bartender slides her the drink a moment later and she thanks him before she’s finally forced to turn to me.

“Anything for you?” He looks to me.

“No thanks.” I shake my head.

“I’m going to get a little air out here. You don’t have to wait for me.” She heads for the door, and I hurry after her. I hold it and follow her out into the night. It’s unseasonably warm which is the only reason I’m not fighting her on this course of action because I’m fairly certain she’s running—again. I’m not sure from what part of things exactly yet, but I’m going to find out.

“I’m not seeing her anymore.” I hedge that somehow Danica’s little stunt is at the center of this runaway act.

“It’s fine if you are. Drew said the two of you were pretty heavy for a while.” She shrugs, staring out over the city, taking a sip of her drink.