Come Get Me
My mind is numb.
Everything around me is still spinning from what just happened. From the kiss. From the nerve. From the audacity.
I don’t know how long Finn’s lips stayed on mine, or if they were even moving against mine, but the moment he let go of my coat, I knew it was over. Whatever moment he thought we were having—it had expired.
He’s smiling.
"You have very soft lips," he says. "What's that flavor? Strawberry?"
My heart races with fury.
I’m about to rain hellfire on him when someone clears their throat into the mic.
The emcee. Standing with a grin that’s far too amused.
All eyes are on us.
Victoria Hartley, smiling like she’s just seen her fantasy come to life.
Knox—expression unreadable.
Hunter’s eyes are wide.
And Delilah… frowning.
“Looks like we’ve got a wedding rehearsal and a love story unfolding at the same time,” the emcee says, beaming.
Laughter ripples through the crowd.
Finn chuckles too.
“I think that’s a sign of great things to come tomorrow,” the emcee continues. “Don’t you all think so?”
Applause. Whistles.
“You’ve got fans, lovebirds. Wave to the crowd at least. Even the groom is clapping.”
Finn lifts his hand to wave. Then leans in, whispering, “Do it. This is so much better than I planned.”
I haven’t moved. Not an inch.
I’m still frozen. Shell-shocked. Disbelieving.
Finn must realize this, because he grabs my hand, trying to lift it into a wave—
With my free hand, I slap him hard across the face.
His hand flies back, face twisting in confusion and shock as he palms his cheek. "What was that for?"
The crowd falls silent. The claps die.
Murmurs begin. The room tilts with whispers.
I stand. Adjust my coat. Grab my purse. And I leave.
The emcee tries to save the mood with another joke, and the crowd laughs nervously, but I’m already halfway to the exit, my heels thudding faster with every step. Out into the night air.
It's drizzling.
Of course it is.
Does it always rain in this town? I should have checked the damn weather forecast before agreeing to this trip. I pull my coat tighter and fish out my phone, trying to figure out how the hell I’ll even get home.
“Sloane!”
Nope.
I keep walking.
“Sloane, wait!”
The footsteps are quick behind me. Then a hand wraps around my arm and turns me around.
"What was that about?" he says.
"Go back inside, Finn. I really don’t want to see your face right now."
"You mean the face you slapped? You’ve never done that before. I don’t even know what I did to make you mad."
I blink at him. "Seriously?"
He pauses, like he actually needs to think. "Was it the kiss? Was it not to your liking?"
"Fuck off, Finn."
I wrench my arm out of his grip and turn again, starting down the stairs.
He catches up. Stops me.
"Sloane, I’m sorry. I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for right now, but I am really sorry."
I spin on him.
"When you brought your stupid plan to me, Finn, what was my response?"
He frowns. "You didn’t say anything."
"Exactly. I asked you to leave the room. That should’ve told you everything."
"That wasn’t a no."
"Oh, so my silence meant yes?"
"You’ve never refused me anything before. What was I supposed to think? The only time I know you get bullheaded is concerning my brother. When I asked you what the secret gifts he bought you were, you threw a tantrum. When I asked you not to screw him, you did. But you’ve never denied me anything else. Why am I suddenly the villain for assuming your silence meant yes?"
My mouth opens.
Then closes.
He’s right. Not about everything. But I can’t remember the last time I said no to Finn Hartley.
"Finn," I say, "I can do a lot of things to support you emotionally as your friend. But I will never consent to you kissing me to get a girl who no one likes except you."
He looks hurt. "I… I just thought—"
"What’s the address to your parents’ house?"
"What?"
"I’m taking a cab. I’m leaving this place."
"I’ll drive you."
I raise a finger. "Don’t. I want to be alone. Is that too much to ask for? Can I not be angry? Can I not be away from you, Finn?"
He stares at me. Eyes rimmed with disbelief.
"What’s happening right now, Sloane? I don’t even know who you are anymore. If you want to be alone, fine. Stay out here and have the solitude you crave. Just call me whenever you’re calm, and I’ll take you home."
He storms off.
I watch him go. Jaw clenched. Teeth grinding. I cannot believe he's walking away like he's the one hurt. It makes my blood boil the more I think about it. But that’s fine. He wants drama? Oh, he’s not pissed yet. But he will be. I plan to show him just how pissed I can make him. Because the next time he sees me, it won’t be in this ballroom or beside him playing his fake little plus-one. I’m grabbing my shit and heading straight to the airport. Let’s see how well he plays the victim then.
I pull out my phone with a trembling hand, teeth sinking into my lower lip to stop the storm in my throat from erupting. I stare at the screen for longer than I should, thumb hovering above one name. Knox. He's the only other person who can help with what I have in mind, even though the idea of speaking with another Hartley after being provoked by one is setting my teeth on edge.
I tap the name and press the phone to my ear, praying he actually picks up.
It rings.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"Sloane."
Just the sound of his voice makes me almost forget why I called. It’s ridiculous how easily he can shatter my mood with a single syllable. I'm supposed to hate anything called Hartley right now.
"I need a favor," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I’m all ears."
I swallow. Hard. "I know you’re Hunter’s best man and everything. It's probably horrible of me to ask this of you, but I need to leave this place. I can’t stay at your parents’ house, where I’ll eventually have to see Finn, and I need a Hartley to access the gate when I get there for my stuff. I don’t know who else to call."
He doesn’t speak for a beat.
"So you called me to access a gate."
"I need to get out of town tonight."
"Get out? As in out, out? To New York?"
"Yes. I want to grab my things and go straight to the airport. If you’ll be so kind as to assist, good sir."
He laughs. Low. Deep. A sound that coils into my stomach and makes my pulse skip.
"We made plans, Kitten. Are you bailing on me?"
"Can I take a raincheck on those plans? You Hartleys have seriously tested my patience today."
"Yet here you are… seeking help from one."
"Here I am."
"Tell you what," he says. "Come meet me at the rooftop, and I’ll think about it."
My brows knit. "Rooftop?"
"Mmhmm. That’s where I am. Come get me."
"What, might I ask, are you doing up there?"
"Smoking."
I roll my eyes. "That’s a terrible habit. It literally says on the pack that it can kill you."
"You can’t help being a good person, can you, Sloane? Even when you claim to hate the Hartleys, you still care about our lungs."
"Saying the truth isn’t the same as caring."
"You think I’d give a fuck if someone I hate was killing themselves? Why don’t you bring your caring ass over here and take this Cuban cigar out of my mouth?"
God. My body flushes. I grip the phone tighter. He always does this—wraps filth in velvet and makes it sound like poetry. The last time I was alone with Knox, I ended up getting bent over a countertop. As much as I want that, I have to stay focused on leaving.
My voice is unsteady. "Isn’t the rooftop open? It’s drizzling."
"There’s a patio. You thought I was standing in the rain?"
"I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself, Knox."
"Now how would I drive if my hands were to myself?"
"You could be nice and just come down."
He laughs again. "If you want something, Kitten, you come and get it."
"Knox…"
"I understand that you’re having difficulty making a decision—as is your nature, I’ve noticed—so I’ll help you out. Just give me a few seconds."
I hold my breath in hope. "You’re coming down?"
"A couple more seconds, Kitten. Be patient."
I don’t understand what he means until—
Oh.
Ohhhh.
The motherfucker turned it on.
I forgot I was even wearing the vibrator. I’ve been too consumed by rage and humiliation and shame to remember what my entire plan for tonight was in the first place.
And now—
My body jolts like I’ve been shocked. My breath hitches. I stagger, hand gripping the side of the building for balance.
My knees buckle slightly. My thighs clench. Heat floods my cheeks.
"Knox," I hiss into the phone. "Turn it off."
But instead, the intensity rises. My toes curl in my heels.
His voice is as smooth as ever. "See, I knew you had it on. You're wilder than you show. Come to the rooftop, Sloane. Come get what you want."
The line goes dead.
I stare at the screen, slack-jawed, vibrating in more ways than one.
I groan.
Still bent slightly, I gather myself. My thighs ache with want. How weird would it look if I dug into my panties right now to pull out the vibrator? The person making a call at the other edge of the portico is already eyeing me suspiciously. And the restroom is back where I came from, in that hall.
I’m going to kill Knox.
I walk.
Heart pounding. Jaw tight. Face burning.
I head back inside the building, eyes fixed on the stairs I hope lead to the rooftop.