Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(75)

“You’re about to find out,” I replied, and turned around to walk out.

I unlocked the door and looked over my shoulder to where he was still standing with the Babe Ruth baseball in his hand. “My professional opinion? Don’t f*ck with me anymore.”

I walked out of there, thanked Sergio and Lazaro who was now also standing there.

“Sorry about the mess, guys. The man in there went crazy over the empty soap container,” I said. Both of them looked at each other before looking at me and shrugging. I handed Sergio two wads of bills. “Please give this to Ignazio. That should cover it. The rest is for you guys.”

“It’s the wine, dawg. That makes these old men go crazy,” Sergio said with a tsk. I smiled as I walked away. I went back to where Jessica was sitting and she gasped.

“Holy cow. What happened to your face?”

I brought my hand up and felt liquid covering my left cheek. I looked at my hand, now wet with blood.

“I think we’re going to have to cut this date short.”

She nodded, eyes wide. “Of course. Let’s go. You probably need stitches.”

As soon as we stepped outside, there were photographers everywhere. What wasn’t supposed to be a money shot, became one. Me dating a different girl wasn’t news anymore. It was me dating a different girl and the blood all over my face. I doubted they’d put them up anywhere. I wasn’t a celebrity.

“I hope they don’t think I did that,” Jessica said with a nervous laugh as we climbed into the car. “Wait. Let me drive.”

I gave her a side-eyed glare. “Are you out of your . . .? You think I would let you drive my car? I’m dropping you off at home.”

She protested the entire way there, saying I was an idiot—an *—that she didn’t understand why I couldn’t just be like a normal human being and let her take me to the hospital. By the time I parked outside her house, I had a migraine.

“Jess, I’ve had a really rough night, so I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but, get the f*ck out of my car.”

“What about your office party? Aren’t we supposed to be taking pictures that make you look like you’ve found a girlfriend?”

I groaned. She was right. “Meet me there please. Just . . . meet me there. I’ll pay you. I’ll send a celebrity to your salon. I don’t care. Just meet me there in two hours.”

I drove to the hospital, got three stitches on my face, and was parked outside the office building a little past nine o’clock. My heart lurched at the familiar white car parked outside the office building. Would she be here?





BY THE TIME Victor walked in, looking like every sin I was ready to commit, in a black suit and navy tie, I was on my third glass of champagne. He came solo. I smiled at that, but my smile quickly faded when I saw the bandage on the side of his face. I gravitated toward him as if on autopilot, only stopping when I remembered I was supposed to keep my distance. I was furious with myself, with my dad, with the media, with Victor. I’d gone from sad and understanding to angry and bewildered, like a rabid dog on a leash wanting to attack the postmaster. I hated it. Hated him for making me yearn for him this badly. Hated me for putting myself in this situation. Hated the stupid laws in place that prevented us from being together.

“I got you an hors d’oeuvre,” Brent said, walking back to me. He also looked great in a suit and tie, opposed to the running shorts I usually saw him in, but he wasn’t Victor. I’d invited him as my date because sadly I had nobody else to bring, unless I brought Marcus and everybody knew he was my security detail. He wouldn’t really pass as my sudden boyfriend. Well, with my track record, he might, but that would have been awkward for both of us. Brent stuck out the tomato and mozzarella skewer in his hand and brought it up to my mouth for me to take a bite. I complied and thanked him.

When I looked back up, Victor was looking right at me and I felt the air swoosh out of my lungs. I tried to look away, but I was a prisoner to his gaze, and couldn’t until I felt Brent’s finger on the side of my mouth and was jolted out of the moment. My eyes snapped back to Brent.

“You got some olive oil here,” he said, wiping it off.

I couldn’t formulate words as I watched Victor move toward us, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. My heart dipped into my stomach, and when he stood right in front of me, I could only swallow it all down and tilt my head to look at him.

“Hi. Congratulations,” I said.

“Thank you.” He paused, looking at Brent. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Victor Reuben. Nicole’s attorney.” The way he said it, almost as if he loathed the introduction, made my heart gallop.

“Brent Thomas. Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands, and all I could do was look at Victor’s face and wonder what happened.

“I need to speak to you before you leave,” Victor said to me, lowering his voice. “Alone. In my office.”

I was sure everybody in the room could see through us, hear the promise in his statement, feel the tension we created. His eyes raked up and down my body slowly, without a care in the world, as if there weren’t at least forty eyes on us. As we stood there, a tall blonde woman came up to us. At first I smiled at her, thinking she was one of the guy’s wives, but then she put her red nails on Victor’s face and touched his cheek, and my smile disappeared.