Page 61 of Tied to You

Seeing Janette’s face as well, that was a sight I haven’t seen in a long time. It was pride. Happiness. And it felt good to be the cause of that. Rather than show up dead on my knees like a zombie, I’ve stayed away knowing that once all this shit’s done, I can go back. Give them all more of me.

And what’s that I detect? Oh, yeah, my fucking heart picking up at speedat the mere thought of her. Go back one month, and I had no direction. No purpose.

Now?

Swinging back to Sparky, he manoeuvres himself and yet another giant speaker from his van. I barge him out the way, taking it from him. I’m stronger, so I can lift it quicker. “Start setting up. I’ll do the lifting.”

“Got it.”

The two of us move in tandem, moving back and forth between his van. Dean checks in letting me know he’s near the house. Now we just have to wait.

There’s a bang, and I hear a group of people gasp as a waiter frantically waves his hand, dabbing a large cloth to the table.

I freeze. My blood turning to ice. There’s a man I recognise sat at one of the tables. The woman he’s sat next to has her back to me, but I recognise her the minute her head swings to see the commotion on the table next to her.

Jesus fucking Christ. She’shere? Withhim? Her old friends are these bastards? My temper flares like a tornado ripping through me. I really shouldn’t, considering I haven’t exactly been the most talkative this past week, but I grab my phone, my fingers heavy against the screen as I type out a message to her.

Me: What did you wear to the party?

What am I, fifteen? I frown at myself looking up, watching as she pulls out her phone and replies.

Baby Doll: A green dress

I look up. It’s definitely her. Her short answer feels off, just like her message earlier today.It’s going to be a late one for me too.Is she having a late night with posh boy? Posh boy whose face is now close to hers sending shards of glass to tear open my flesh. I don’t know where the fuck this is coming from, but I’m pretty fucking certain I now have a new problem to add to tonight’s ordeal, because there is no way I want her anywhere near where I’m conducting business. Period.

Even if she’s here with someone else. Which I’mapparently, not fuckinghappy about. I’m shaking like a fucking teenager who’s been dumped.Shit.Her hooks are in fucking deep.

I hit dial, wanting his face away from hers, now.

She doesn’t answer, and I feel my body begin to tense.

“Hey,” Sparky mutters from behind me.

“What?” I snap at him.

“What are you doing?”

I realise in the heat of the moment, I’ve stepped into clear view, standing like a complete and utter twat just watching her.

Sparky coughs, but it’s too late. I miss his warning of someone coming over to us.

“Gentlemen,” the guy says, a Scotch in his hand.

I look at him, then back to Mollie.

She stands, and I feel my heart explode like a bomb just detonated in my chest. That dress. Her body. I swear I’ve never seen anything like it before. Her hips sway, the dress she’s wearing elegantly trailing behind her as her long legs carry her away from the table. Her long legs that keep appearing with every step she takes due to the giant slit up one side. What the fuck? Oh, I’m going to tear that dress to pieces. If anyone should get to look at her the way that every guy here is right now. It’s me. Only me.

The man next to me coughs, dragging my attention from my goddess.

I look at him, wondering what the fuck he wants, and more importantly, wondering why the fuck Mollie’s here? “Can I help you?”

He appears put out by my tone but I don’t give a flying fuck. “This looks pretty extravagant. Will it take long?”

Seriously?We’ve been here less than half an hour and this cunt expects it done already? “It’ll take as long as it takes.” And it would take less time if he left us alone to get on with it. Looking away from him, I grind my teeth unable to see her. She’s gone.Fuck.

“The sooner you have it done the sooner people can start having some fun.”

Turning on the spot, I look at him, my face blank. I can’t even give him a smart answer for fear of snapping his neck. He’s looking at me like I’m the scum on the bottom of his shoe. It makes my fist ball, my anger rising.