I still didn’t understand how I’d missed it, how I hadn’t seen James’s true nature.
As I walked up the front path and inserted my key in the door, I told myself that tonight, none of that was up for debate. I would have plenty of time later to work out how I felt about our failed relationship.
After Chloe had gone.
And, although today had been a maelstrom of emotions, tonight wouldn’t be. I was going to spend it with my best friend. It would be our last evening together before she went on a long-extended holiday, and I was determined that we were going to have fun.
3
Brydie
As soon as I entered the villa, I went straight to the kitchen and poured myself a red wine. Glass full, I padded back to my bedroom to assess my wardrobe. I agonized over what to wear, finally deciding on a high-necked short black dress. It looked innocent on the hanger, but on my body it enveloped me tightly like a second skin.
Putting it on released some cathartic feelings, for James had hated it. It was too tight for the business dinner I attended with him one evening. He complained that the man he was trying to impress hadn’t listened to him, as he was too focused on me. James warned me in no uncertain terms never to wear it again.
Which was just the reason I chose to wear it tonight. James wasn’t in my life anymore. I could make my own damn decisions!
I tied my long blond hair up into a high ponytail, went dark and moody with my eyes, and generously painted my lips blood red. Two-inch heels gave me the height I craved, while also showcasing my legs. It was hard to get noticed in a crowd when you were five and a half feet tall.
As I stood there assessing the overall look in my floor-length mirror, I hardly recognized myself. Neither did Chloe, for her mouth dropped open when she answered the door.
“You’re a knockout!” she whistled, pulling me into her sprawling riverside mansion and promptly pouring me a drink. “This is going to be a great night!”
Darryn and Michael turned up about half an hour later. I was feeling particularly tipsy by the time they arrived.
When Michael saw me, he came to an abrupt halt, eyes bugging out. “Wow, Brydie! You look stunning!”
I gave him a shy smile in response, but he took that as an indication I was interested in him. I had to fend off his advances until we arrived at the nightclub and I could escape to the bathroom. Once he was out of my sight, I moved to the other side of the club, onto the dance floor. It was as far away from our table as I could get, and I hadn’t gone back since.
The music in the club was pounding, the beat fast and deep. Alcohol and sweat permeated the air as bodies pressed in a crush on the dance floor. It was hot, dark, and intense, and I was feeling fabulous thanks to the alcohol I had consumed. With my eyes closed, I swayed my body sinuously.
This was freedom. There were no commitments, no demands on my time, and I was gloriously anonymous. Letting the events of the day go, I flung my head back, succumbing to the music.
Someone touched my ass. I ignored them, continuing to sway. But those hands didn’t let go, nor did they pass over my butt as many others had. Rather, they traveled up and clamped down hard on my hips. My eyes flew open just before I was spun around. I blinked as I caught the flash of white teeth.
“Hey, beautiful lady.”
The strobe light caught his head, and I noted he was of medium height, powerfully stocky, with blond hair.
“Hey,” I murmured shortly, pissed that I’d been interrupted.
He leaned in close and brought his lips to my ear. “I’ve been watching you for the past thirty minutes. Let me buy you a drink. You look like you need one.”
My first response was to refuse, but for some reason, knowing that was my usual reply gave me pause. I didn’t want that tonight. I wanted to be unpredictable.
I forced myself to smile back, hoping it looked confident and controlled. “I’d like that.”
He flashed a triumphant smile. “Lucky me.”
His hand found mine, and he tugged me off the dance floor toward the bar. Signaling the bartender with a crook of his fingers, he flashed a fifty.
“A JD on the rocks for me and whatever the lady wants.”
“A glass of merlot, thanks.”
The bartender gave a nod and hurried away to get the drinks.
Now that we were away from the band, I could hear his deep baritone. The bright lights above the bar also revealed that he was older than I had assumed, closer to his mid-thirties. My stomach fluttered; he was at least ten years my senior and no Edmund Judd. This man oozed confidence and power.
Our drinks arrived. He passed mine over and leaned an elbow on the bar, enclosing me within his personal space. I stifled my instinctive urge to move away.
He took a hit of his drink before lowering it, watching me closely. “Got a name, beautiful girl?”
I followed suit, tipping my head back and relishing the glide of the liquid as it soothed my parched throat. As I swallowed, I contemplated my response. This man didn’t know me. There was a certain freedom in that. Tonight, I could be whoever I wanted to be.
“My name’s Layla.”
“Well, Layla, you dance real fine.” He leaned in closer as a group of young men jostled at his back. His arm brushed up against mine, and gooseflesh peppered my skin.
I took another swig of my drink, but this time the alcohol pooled in my stomach in a queasy mess. I could feel him waiting for me to respond. “And who do I thank for buying me this drink?”
“You can call me Simon. You’ll get the other details later.” His smile was wolfish.
I had the feeling it was meant to be sexy and I ducked my head to hide my frown.
He reached out and tugged my ponytail. “Want to go someplace else, Layla?”
My breath caught, and I struggled to formulate an answer. My head felt fuzzy; my stomach now roiling. I didn’t feel well—like I was going to be sick or pass out, or both. Deep down, I knew this wasn’t just related to the alcohol; being here, in this situation, with this man, was too much.
I realized the drink had been a mistake.
“I can’t. I’m here with friends,” I replied, turning my body subtly away from his so I could glance over his shoulder, out into the crowd, desperate to spot Chloe and the boys.
Where were they?
Simon grabbed my shoulder, turning me to face him squarely. “Come on, baby, you know the game we’re playing. This is where you say yes!”
I could smell the alcohol on his breath, see the firm line of his jaw. A prickle of foreboding chased down my spine.
I tried to shrug off his hand, but it remained clamped on my shoulder.
How had it all gone so wrong so fast?
I swallowed hard, fighting the panic. “Look,” I began firmly. “I’m grateful for the drink, and I’m sorry we can’t continue this elsewhere, but I’m out with my friends tonight.” I forced myself to look directly into his eyes as I added, “Maybe another time?”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it was the wrong thing to say. We both knew there wouldn’t be another time.
Simon’s face hardened as his fingers bit into my shoulder and he raised his eyes to scan the room, as if assessing whether anyone was watching. That small action made my blood run cold. Then he suddenly stilled as if he’d spotted something in the crowd. His fingers bit even more painfully into my arm as he opened his mouth. “It’s time to go—”