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“Maybe,” I murmur. “But enough about all that.” I glance at the door. “You know, you’re not what I expected tonight to bring me.”

“What did you expect?”

“A stuffy party, boring conversation. Instead, I got someone who hides things in her dress and throws napkins at me.”

She smiles tightly, like my words have wounded her, which surprises me because I thought we had some great back-and-forth going on.

At that exact moment, I hear the distinct snick. My gaze lifts, and sure enough, the door is unlocked.

So it was magic that secured us in here.

I don’t quite know what to think about that, but I’d rather focus on her than some strange mojo.

I smile. “What do you say we walk out together and rejoin the party? Maybe you can even help me evade this woman.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Her voice gets quiet, and she looks away. I want to ask what’s wrong, but I don’t want to push.

Then she extends her hand. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Cristina. Your stalker.”

Chapter 3

Cristina

It’s almost impossible to express what it feels like to be intensely attracted to someone in one moment, only to have the rug ripped out from under you the next, crashing and burning in a fit of flames.

It’s beyond humiliating.

As if to prove this point, my cheeks burn and my knees quake. Rhett looks at me, his face twisted in confusion, until he puts two and two together. Then his expression dissolves into dismay.

“Cristina, I’m so—”

I throw my hand up in a Stop motion. I cannot hear this apology, and I know that’s what it’s going to be.

Rhett isn’t allowed to insult me in one breath and then say he didn’t mean it with the next, because I know that isn’t true. He meant every word—every single lie Jace told him.

Even worse, he was hiding—from me. Like, what alternate dimension have I landed in where my ex’s lies make my new boss take refuge in an empty restaurant in order to avoid me?

That’s it. I can’t be here one more second.

I storm out the door.

Wait. I should at least say something in my defense.

So I stop and turn around. Rhett’s stepped forward, too, as if he plans to chase me down.

Well, that’s nice for him.

“Here’s a pro tip.” I cross my arms defiantly. “Make sure the person you’re gossiping with isn’t the person you’re gossiping about. And for the record? I’m not a stalker.”

He flinches like I’ve just punched him in the throat.

Good.

I spin around and leave the restaurant, and Rhett Maddox, well behind.

As I make my way back to the lobby, I want to tear my hair out. That meet-disaster with Rhett might’ve been the best first conversation I’ve ever had with anyone. Hands down.