Page 393 of Valentino

There’s no banter, no conversation.

Nothing.

The elevator dings as we hit the ground floor and the doors open. The party is in full swing now.

“Let’s get a drink,” he says casually as he looks around.

I stare at him, what the actual fuck is happening right now?

Did I just imagine that whole entire thing?

“No, I’m going to head off,” I reply coolly.

“Okay.” He puts his two hands into his pockets. “Do you want me to walk you out?”

I’m taken aback that he would even have to ask that.

Wow.

“No. I’m fine.” I fake a smile. “Goodbye, Mr. Ferrara.”

“Goodbye, Miss Porter. My car will take you home.”

I glare at him, “Have a nice life.”

He tilts his chin to the sky as if angered. “You too.”

Ha, and there it is.

Proof.

That he’s an asshole and I’m pathetic.

Well, fuck you.

I turn and walk out the front doors as my angry heartbeat sounds in my ears.

Fucking fuckface, big dick, fucking twathead, asswipe.

His blacked-out Range Rover is parked in his bay, and I storm over to it. His driver Mark is behind the wheel, and he jumps out when he sees me. “Good evening, Grace.” He smiles.

“Hi Mark, could you give me a lift home?”

“Sure thing.” He opens the door, and I climb in.

“Did you have a good night?” He smiles as he pulls out into the traffic.

I fake a smile as I look out the window. “It was just okay, a bit boring if I’m honest.”

He chuckles, “Aren’t all work Christmas parties?”

I stare out the window as New York flies by.

The sky is red as my apocalyptic anger begins to burn.

Fuck. You.

CHAPTER FOUR