Between Commitment and Betrayal (Hardy Billionaire Brothers, #1)(62)

Declan could order shot after shot after shot and never would a bartender ask him for a credit card. To him, it was normal. To me, it was insane, just another indicator of our incompatibility. Yet, when I’d heard Anastasia and Piper holding a magnifying glass to all our differences, I’d wanted nothing more than to prove we had a few things in common.

He knew how to make me feel good, and we both enjoyed that. He may have been my husband in hiding, but the chemistry between us was noticeable. At least to me and him.

Or so I thought. He’d hung up his phone and hadn’t turned to look for where I’d walked off to. Instead, he made his way back to our table, but not before my stepsister grabbed him and pulled him close. She dragged a hand over his jaw and looked up at him lovingly. Piper smiled the whole time, as if encouraging her friend to engage in a relationship with her ex. She was a better woman than me.

Never would I be supportive of Declan being with a close friend of mine had we actually been together. He stood there, smiling down at her, his body bigger and stronger and harder than most in the crowd. I knew what it felt like up against me, how the hands he now had on her wrists as he pulled them away from his face felt on my skin, how he smelled like sandalwood and rain to me even when it was sunny. I ached for him even though he wasn’t truly mine.

Sighing, I turned to the bar and asked for another drink. “One more shot. Make it stronger than the others you’ve served tonight, please.”

The bartender nodded, completely happy to oblige. Taking a dark bottle of liquor, he murmured, “Rough times when you’re getting followed by the owner to work, huh?”

I sighed. “So has everyone seen that video?”

“Pretty much.” He lined the rim of the shot with sugar and then followed it up with setting the top of it on fire for just a second before he waved away the flame. “This’ll make you feel better. Favorite one of my own. I call it HEAT’s Sugar. It’s sweet and spicy.”

I shrugged. “Bottom’s up.” It burned while still tasting sweet as it licked down my throat, causing me to shiver enough that he laughed.

“I’m Corbin, by the way. I’ve seen you working out in the gym a few times. Carl was a good man. Sorry to hear about your loss.”

I nodded, letting the liquor and his comment settle in my body before I responded. So many people had been sorry for my loss lately. “I didn’t know him that well.”

“Sure. You moved here only a few months back, right?” He leaned over to take another order from a woman next to me. Then, as he grabbed another bottle from under the bar, he smiled softly. “You’re just as entitled to being sad as any of them. You probably saw more of him than they did anyway.” Corbin chuckled as he looked past me. His words amplified what my heart felt in that moment. And I felt it entirely, wholeheartedly, and it walloped me fiercely.

One glance back into the crowd, at Anastasia still near Declan as he stood by our table now, had emotions bubbling up in me that I really hadn’t dealt with in years. People shouldn’t cry in public or show that they’re falling apart.

Like he could feel my eyes on him, he turned. That deep-green gaze pulled me in like a dark forest wanting to be explored, but his stare was questioning, probing me for more information than I was willing to give. I turned back to the bartender just as I saw Declan take a step toward me.

“You need my watch?” I asked Corbin.

“Your tab’s on us when you’re here.” He grabbed the empty shot off the bar and winked at me before another customer nodded at him.

“It’s time for us to go,” Declan rumbled behind me.

The heat of him there pulled my body back, but this time I ignored it. “Oh? Is everyone headed out?”

He leaned into the bar. “No. My wife and I are headed out. I have something to talk to you about in the car.”

“I came with Wes, Declan. You came with women too. We should leave with them.”

“Now it’s about Wes? Not just discussing what our marriage looks like to him?” He shook his head and rubbed his jaw roughly once. “How did you describe it anyway? You tell him I can hand-fuck you under a table so good that you drip down my fingers even while he sits in the next seat over acting like your boyfriend?”

“Jesus Christ, Declan.” Anger and desire warmed my face at the same time.

He breathed in deep, as if trying to quell whatever he was feeling. “Drop, I’m not in the mood. And I know you’re not either. Just a second ago, you looked back at me over at that table like you were ready to break down. Like this place is getting to you, and I know it’s damn sure getting to me.”

“I don’t break down, Declan.” I peered up at him, suddenly frustrated that I almost had. He didn’t know what I’d endured, what I was capable of bearing still, or how I would handle going through it. “I can’t break down. Not again. But if we keep doing this, I will. I’ll go home with Wes. You can leave.”

He hummed. “We’re leaving, Drop.”

Alcohol swirled with my emotions, especially the bold ones, the combination was dangerous. “I’m going to go dance.”

I slid past his body, hard to my soft, massive to my miniscule, dominating to my usual submissive ways. Except we’d clash here tonight because I couldn’t stop feeling like their eyes were on him. My stepsister, the one my father prayed I would get along with, literally wanted my husband. Without talking to me, without looking at me, without even acknowledging I was there. I meant nothing to her, and the feeling was about as treacherous as it had been back home when everyone had found out what had happened between my boyfriend and me.