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A woman had her phone out videoing me.
Screw the fucking bloggers.
“Damned heels,” I explained when I found Noah on the edge of the floor. “I guess I should have zigged instead of zagged.”
“I don’t know how you girls manage them, but they do look nice on you.”
I shrugged. “I don’t either, and thank you.” I tipped one foot up. “These are cute.”
We watched Martin hobble off the dance floor.
“I don’t like him either,” Noah said in a hushed tone.
Martin glanced in our direction and sneered.
I rubbed the corner of my eye with my middle finger, flipping Martin the bird.
Martin sneered and limped away. One of the bloggers was already by his side talking to him. Great, this was going to blow up into a huge mess for Evan.
Noah leaned closer. “So what did he do?”
“Pardon?”
Noah smiled knowingly. “You did that on purpose. I’m only curious what he did.”
I checked that no one else was close enough to hear. “He told me he was Evan’s friend, and that they shared… things, and then he propositioned me.” I sniffled back my humiliation. “Do you think Evan will be mad that I hurt his friend?”
Noah let loose a reserved laugh. “No way.”
“Good, because I’m not apologizing. He implied… never mind. It was insulting.”
“It seems to be Martin’s thing, but I’m with you. Next time put that heel in his crotch, that’ll do some serious damage.”
“If there’s anything there to damage.”
Noah’s booming laugh drew the attention of nearby guests. “You’re something else, Borelli.”
I considered Evan’s threat to our weekend concierge, Xavier. “Don’t tell, Evan. I’m fine with a broken foot, but I don’t want to be responsible for real bloodshed.”
After a few minutes of searching for Evan, I gave up and dialed him—no answer. So, I dialed Albert. “I want to leave.”
CHAPTER40
Alexa
Albert had drivenme home without a single question.
I’d tried calling Evan’s phone again without success, so I sent a message.
ME: Went home early.
I should have switched to water, but my nerves were shot. I poured a glass of wine and looked out the window onto the dark park. Without any idea how to tell Evan about the spectacle I’d caused, I settled onto the couch and closed my eyes.
A message arrived.
EVAN: On the way.
He was about to have a giant PR problem—one I’d created because I couldn’t control my temper. It only proved that I couldn’t fit in here. I was Brooklyn trash, not Manhattan high society.
