Wicked Burn(48)

“Get a grip on it,” she whispered to her reflection a few seconds later. She took a deep breath and exhaled.

Eileen Moore might be wrong about Vic’s feelings for Jennifer Atwood. Art often imitated life, certainly, but it also varied from it greatly. Besides, Alias X reflected a certain time in Vic’s life, like a snapshot in a photo album. That didn’t necessarily mean that Vic was still wildly, passionately in love with Jennifer.

Did it?

Were ties of the soul—even twisted ones—so easily severed?

Niall threw her comb back into her purse with a frown. She wasn’t going to come to any earth-shattering revelations about Vic’s love life by staring at herself in the mirror. She was the one he’d asked to his play tonight, not Jennifer Atwood.

Niall turned the corner that led to the coat check, planning to get her lipstick from her pocket before she went and found Vic.

She found him all right.

She came up short and stared at the sight in front of her. Vic leaned back against the wood paneling of the narrow corridor, his head bent downward while Jennifer Atwood craned up, their bodies sealed together as tightly as their mouths.

Niall didn’t think she’d made a noise, but she must have. Because suddenly Vic’s gray eyes were on her, the impact of them striking her like a blast of sleety, frigid wind.

She turned and fled.

“Niall,” Vic called out sharply as he straightened, knocking Jenny slightly off balance in her stiletto heels.

“Vic, hold on, please! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen . . .” Jenny said breathlessly as she put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, you did,” Vic said distractedly as he moved past her. “And maybe I did, too.”

Jennifer stared after him, her jaw hanging open as he strode away from her.

Vic cursed for the second time tonight when he saw the back of Niall’s shiny hair and the flash of a fast-moving, leather-covered calf before she disappeared behind yet another door . . . this time the elevator’s.

Dammit, why did it always seem like Niall was just slipping through his grasping fingertips?

He paused outside the lobby doors a minute later after waiting for another elevator, searching in both directions for Niall. She was nowhere in sight. His mouth pulled into a grim line as he started west at a jog, figuring she’d instinctively head toward home.

Niall didn’t even register that she was shivering like mad until she finally hailed a cab on Rush Street and came to a halt in her frantic escape. Damn. She’d left her coat behind. The temperature hovered right at the freezing mark, and all she wore was a silk blouse and a skirt.

Going back into Mina’s at that moment—returning to that corridor where she’d seen Vic kissing Jennifer—was not even a remote option, however. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing Ellen and Meg to their hotel, Niall thought with a twinge of guilt. Vic’s mother and sister were literally staying across the street from the building where Mina’s was located.

“Niall.”

She looked around, astounded to see Vic jogging down the street toward her. She opened the door of the cab that had just neatly pulled up to the curb, and clambered inside. Vic’s hand caught the door when she tried to slam it shut forcefully. From the sound of his terse curse, her action had hurt him.

Good. It couldn’t come anywhere near the pain that had sliced through Niall when she saw his dark head bent over Jennifer Atwood’s face as he kissed her.

“Scoot over, Niall.”

“No! This is my cab,” she countered, realizing that she sounded like a petulant child.

“Move . . . over,” Vic demanded through a clenched jaw.

Niall just stared up at him for a few seconds. How dare he act like he was mad at her? For some reason all those nasty verbal duals that Sissy and David engaged in during Alias X rose to her mind. Niall abruptly slid across the seat and stared forward, unseeing.

She was no Sissy or Jennifer. She would not sit here and bicker with and bait Vic like a trashy slut. If that was the kind of thing he got off on, he was going to be sorely disappointed, Niall promised herself.

She was the one who was mistaken, however, if she thought Vic was going to try and start a fight with her. He remained as icily silent during the cab ride to Riverview Towers as she did. He didn’t, in fact, speak until the elevator doors closed behind them and he’d pushed the button for the seventeenth floor.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Niall met his gaze for the first time since he’d glared down at her before she’d slammed the door on his hand. She couldn’t read his rigid expression as he stood several feet away from her and pinned her with his stare.

“I’m sorry I saw it, too. But maybe it’s for the best,” she replied as evenly as possible. She exhaled abruptly and stared up at the ceiling, shaking her head. “You don’t have to apologize, Vic. It’s not as if you owe me anything.”

“No?” he drawled.

She shook her head again, still avoiding his gaze.

“Just like you don’t owe me anything—right, Niall? A satisfying f*ck if the convenient opportunity should arise. That’s what we owe each other, right?”

Fury rose in her, despite the fact that she’d vowed to herself that she wouldn’t let him push her buttons. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded as the elevator door opened with a ding.