Page 11 of Unleashed By Eden

My throat goes dry. I reach for my glass, taking another long drink to buy myself a second. “You know her?”

“Yeah,” he says. “She’s a goddess at Eden.”

I choke mid-sip, coughing as the Macallan burns my windpipe. “What? No fucking way.” Whiskey dribbles down my chin, and I swipe it off with the back of my hand.

Dameon laughs. “Yeah, man. She was there the other night.”

So that’s where I saw her. I knew I’d caught a glimpse of that hair before.

Now I can’t stop staring, willing her to look my way.

She turns, and her eyes sweep the dance floor.

Come on, Vi. Just a little more . . .

She finally looks toward the VIP section, and when her eyes find mine a few seconds later, everything in me quiets.

I forget to breathe.

She doesn’t flinch or look away. Those gray eyes of hers lock onto mine. They’re cold and unblinking—daring me to look away first.

I don’t.

The stare stretches between us until she finally turns slowly, giving the asshole she’s with her full attention. Her choice has been made, and it’s crystal clear.

He looks about her age, slicked-back hair and an expensive suit. His hand sits low on her back, and when she leans in to say something, her head tilts just enough that her sheet of black hair trails over his fingers.

I slam my glass down and push to my feet. The guys call after me, but I don’t answer. People in the crowd part as I move through it. Some stare, some do double-takes, others whisper, but I don’t give a shit.

By the time I reach her, she’s laughing again, a perky polished chuckle that sounds out of key. It’s not her real laugh. I’d know the difference anywhere.

She catches sight of me before I speak. Her gaze lifts and hooks into mine, a faint smile playing on her mouth.

“Carter,” she says, my name slipping off her tongue as easily as smoke.

“Violet.”

My eyes bore into hers. Up close, the changes are impossible to ignore; her features have matured, cheekbones more cut, lips fuller, and the tiny diamond in her nose was made for her. She’s not the girl I used to know, not in her face and definitely not in the way she holds herself now.

“It’s Sara, actually.”

I pitch a brow.

Okay. She wants to play? Let’s play.

“Oh man, you’re Carter Ashford,” the dweeb beside her gushes. “I’m a huge fan.”

Here we go.

“You’re an absolute god on that guitar, man.”

My eyes stay on her, not moving an inch. The corner of my mouth twitches.

She rolls her eyes, and that’s all it takes for my smirk to break into a grin. I fish a pack of smokes from my jacket, tap one free, and light up. No one’s going to say shit about me smoking inside.

I exhale a thin stream of smoke. “So . . . you two on a date?” I ask, moving my hand holding the cigarette back and forth between them.

She leans into his side, looping her hand around his forearm and pulling on it so he’ll look down at her.