Chapter 28 It’s Annie
"She..." The tiny blonde, looking like he had barely crossed into his early twenties, stammered.
"Shut up. Apologize." I cut him off, tightening my grip around his collar, trying not to draw too much attention to us.
"I—I'm sorry." He finally said. His brain finally caught up with the fact that I wasn't exactly a nice person.
"Not to me. To her." I drawled.
He turned quickly to Vanessa and mumbled. "I'm sorry."
She raised a single brow at him, looking unimpressed. But she didn't say a word.
"Seems your apology was bullshit. Again." I said.
His eyes flashed with hate, but he was smart enough not to provoke me further. Maybe it was the way he looked fragile and tiny next to me—whatever it was, he was finally afraid. As he should be.
"I'm so sorry, madam." He repeated.
"And what are you sorry for?"
He shot me a nervous glance, then added in a low tone. "For calling you that..."
"And?" I pressed.
His brows furrowed in confusion.
I growled. "Say that you're sorry for acting like a rejected low-life and a disrespectful little prick who doesn't understand boundaries. Or you'll be spitting out your teeth."
From the corner of my eye, I caught Vanessa smirking.
But Blondie wasn't having any fun. He looked like he wanted to punch me right in the face. The hatred in his eyes and the tension in his jaw, all of it was clear. I still towered over him, and he cowered.
"I'm sorry for acting like...a rejected low-life and a disrespectful little prick who doesn't understand boundaries." Resentment dripped from his words. But that was his headache.
I turned to Vanessa. "Do you accept his apology? If not, I can make him come up with a thousand more ways to say it."
Blondie paled.
Vanessa tilted her head as she looked him up and down. "I don't think I want to waste any more of my time seeing his face."
She was good.
I liked it way more than I should have and hoped to see more of this side.
Shoving the blondie aside, I snarled. "Now, Run."
I didn't have to tell him twice. He bolted through the crowd like a white bunny caught in a fire.
Coward.
Vanessa laughed, drawing my attention back to her. "Thank you." Her smile widened as she gripped my arms, snuggling close. "That was quite Fiesty"
"And you're quite drunk," I muttered. She shook her head, still grinning.
All the alcohol she'd consumed earlier was finally kicking in, making me wonder if it was the alcohol that was talking through her earlier.
Goodness.
"I think that's enough for today. Let's go home." I grabbed her wrist, but she glued herself to me, her chest pressing against mine.
"No...I don't wanna go back yet." She pouted.
Cute. But I wasn't falling for that.
My jaw clenched as I glanced around. My eyes briefly brushed past the stripping naked ladies near the poles, then landed back on her. "Look, here's what we'll do—Are you even listening?"
She shook her head and wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing into me, and I fought to keep my cool. But she wasn't making it easy.
Heat rushed to my chest, and my groin twitched in my pants.
"Vanessa.." My voice came out husky and low. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, cupping her jaw. She tightened her grip around my waist, staring with those dreamy eyes.
Not good. Not good at all.
"What are you doing to me?" I couldn't help it. She looked too damn beautiful under the red lights. Lips slightly parted, eyes drowsy, hair messy from all the dancing. She'd be the death of me.
"You're doubling." She slurred, barely audible.
A low chuckle escaped me as my hands slid to her waist. Our eyes locked, and I couldn't stop the slow grin that formed on my face. I whispered, "And what about now?"
"You're spinning."
"Okay, you're dead drunk. Let's go." I detached from her and started dragging her out of the club.
"I'm not, and I can walk by myself," she whined behind me.
I didn't let go. We pushed past the crowd, exiting the strip club and entering the casino floor, heading towards the door.
"Ryker. Stop."
I halted, letting go of her hand. "What now? You haven't had enough fun yet?"
Her face was flushed.
"It's not that. I—"
She cut off suddenly...and puked.
Right. On. Me.
My sleeve was covered in vomit.
I froze.
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry—I'm so sorry."
Her voice felt both distant and annoyingly close. The music and distant yelling from the gamblers around us faded into nothing.
I was breathing fire. My brows pulled into a tight frown. I already hated how this night was ending.
Vanessa fumbled for a handkerchief—when had she had that?— and tried to wipe the vomit off my sleeve.
I scoffed loudly, trying to hold back my irritation. "Stop. Just stop."
"I didn't—"
"I know. Let's just leave this place."
She swallowed, her eyes locking with mine. She looked more sober now, and thankfully, like she wasn't going to puke again
Good riddance.
She nodded. I nodded back, glad we were finally on the same page.
I didn't hold her this time, just let her follow behind me. My eyes occasionally drifted to her now and then, checking that she was still there. Sure enough, she looked much calmer after throwing all that up.
I hated that I had vomit all over my shirt. It was disgusting. But the last thing I wanted was to ruin the rest of her night by scolding her.
I didn't know why I was being so considerate, and I didn't even want to know. I just wanted to get home, rip this sleeve off my body, and soak in a warm bath.
I slowed my pace so she could catch up. Together, we stepped outside.
The first thing that caught my eye was a woman pressed against a man against the wall.
It wasn't unusual. This was a strip club and a casino after all.
Couples were scattered everywhere—kissing in the dark, under shades, against walls, beneath streetlamps.
But this particular couple looked wildly familiar.
Or rather, the woman looked familiar.
That blonde hair tied with a white ribbon, I'd seen it before. I just couldn't place where.
Maybe Vanessa would know. I glanced at her, and sure enough, she was staring in the same direction.
Her jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed in visible disgust.
I asked, "Isn't that...?"
"Yes," She cut me off, her eyes staring intently at the blonde like she wanted to go over and rip off her face. "You're right. That's Annie, Derek's fiancée. The one he chose over me."
That explained it. Looking again at the man Annie was kissing against the wall, I could tell the difference.
He was taller. Bulkier. And there was no way my brother had a tattoo crawling up the side of his neck like vines.
That wasn't Derek.
But it sure as hell was his fiancée.
I turned back to Vanessa. Her jaw was clenched, eyes locked on Annie like lasers. Silent rage burned in those eyes, but she didn't say anything.
"She's cheating on him again," I whispered.
Vanessa's lips curved upward, but it wasn't a smile. It was the kind of expression someone wears right before setting fire to a house and walking away.
"Looks like she is," she said coolly.
I didn't know what she was thinking. I hoped I did.
I watched her closely. The way her shoulders relaxed after a while, like she had gotten the confirmation she needed. The way her eyes softened, not with sadness, but with something else.
Satisfaction?