Page 91 of Dissonance

Chapter Thirty-Six

Thea

Ten years ago, LA

The room’s too hot. Or maybe that’s just me.

I swap the hand holding my glass, condensation slick against my fingers, and tell myself for the third time tonight to stop looking at him.

I look at him again.

He’s across the room, near the far wall, exactly where he’s been for most of the evening. The actress—Scarlet, this up-and-coming star just cast in something significant, or so I’m told—has been hanging off him since she arrived. Young, effortlessly beautiful, the kind of woman who doesn’t need to try at anything, and she knows it. All bright and animated and laughing like everything she hears is the most interesting thing she’s ever been told.

Her hand latches onto his arm for the fifth time in twenty minutes, her shoulder pressing into his chest when she leans in too close. I know this because I’ve been counting. Which is pathetic.

I take a sip of the champagne, too dry on my tongue, and force myself to look away and scan the room like I’m working it. Smile at someone I half recognize, look approachable, instead of whatever glower has probably settled across my face.

This is the whole point of being here: finding the next client before someone else does. My dad would be appalled if he knew I’ve spent the best part of two hours standing off to the side, cataloguing the way another woman looks up at a man I have absolutely no claim over.

A few nights scattered across a couple of years. That’s all. Each one ending with me drawing a line I intend to keep, only to find myself here again, regardless.

She’s saying something close to his ear now, close enough that her lips must nearly graze the shell of it. The smile she has when she pulls back is salacious and flirty and makes my skin prickle. He says something back—short, clipped, whatever it is—and she laughs again, hand moving from his arm to his chest, fingers resting there.

The champagne flute is going to crack if I grip it any tighter.

God, this is stupid. I’m being stupid. She’s gorgeous and interested, and he hasn’t moved her away and…none of that is any of my business. He can do whatever he wants.

I finish the rest of my glass, set it on the nearest surface, and move. I need air, a breath, a reminder that I’m a professional woman in a professional setting, and I’m not going to stand here and watch Scarlet run her fingers over a man who isn’t mine because I keep choosing the line over the alternative.

The terrace doors open to cool night air, a relief after the thickness of inside. A couple of people cluster near the door, low music drifting from inside. I head straight for the railing, the vast city spread below, my hands curling around it.

I exhale and close my eyes.

I don’t care.

I don’t—

“Thought I’d find you out here.”

My back goes ramrod straight, eyes snapping open. The warmth of him reaches me before he speaks again, hands coming to either side of the railing, caging me in so close I’d only have to lean back an inch to touch him. That clean scent I’ve never been able to stop thinking about, no matter how many times I’ve told myself to, fills my lungs, and I fight the urge to melt into him.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says.

“Have I?” Brushing his hand away, I step sideways, out from between his arms and face him.

“Aye.”

“You looked busy.” I shrug like it doesn’t matter. Like he doesn’t matter. “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

His brow furrows. “With…?”

“The actress. The one you’re protecting tonight.” Why did that sound so snippy? Get a grip, Thea. Squaring my shoulders, I try to smooth my voice. “She seems very…attentive.”

Nothing happens for a beat, his dark gaze penetrating as he stares at me. Then the corner of his mouth shifts, barely, almost not at all.

“You’ve been watching me.”

Rolling my eyes, I huff out a breath. “Don’t flatter yourself.”