That’s when I see Carson from across the room. His broad shoulders filling out his tux nicely. He has on the fake smile I know too well from when I see him talk to colleagues. And I can tell he is annoyed by the way his finger taps impatiently against his glass.
“Here you are, ma’am,” the bartender says.
“Thank you.”
“You seem bored,” he says to me.
I laugh at him. “Is it that obvious?”
He shrugs. “I work a lot of these events and know when someone is just here as arm candy.”
I raise a brow at him. “I assure you that is not why I am here.”
“No?” he asks. “You’re gorgeous. I am sure any one of these men would be happy to take you home tonight. Because I can tell you are not here on your own accord.”
“That is where you are wrong.”
He smirks at me. “Hmm. Does that mean when I have a break you could meet me in the back?”
I am about to tell him off for being so indiscreet about literally asking me for a quickie when I feel a presence behind me.
“I assure you she will not be meeting you or anyone here for a quick fuck in an alley.”
I bite my lip as I try to not laugh while Carson’s hand lands on my bare lower back.
“Sorry, sir. She said she wasn’t here with anyone.”
“No, I said I wasn’t here as anyone’s arm candy.”
Carson’s stern voice keeps that asshole bartender from saying anything else. “Get me a scotch, double, neat. And if I hear from anyone else that you are propositioning sex at this event, your ass will be out of a job.”
The bartender pales a bit at the strength behind Carson’s words. He quickly pours him a scotch and then Carson pulls me away before he can say anything else.
He drags me to a quieter part of the room, out of view of my brother.
“You look gorgeous tonight, Grace. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you.”
“You just got here.”
He shakes his head as he backs me up against a wall. “No, I’ve been here. Watching you.”
He trails his finger down the curve of my breast. “Listen, I’m—”
“You think you can just suddenly be nice to me!” I shout as loud as I can without drawing attention to us.
“Grace.” His voice on the edge of begging.
“No, Carson. You have been a dick to me ever since that night in your house. You’ve treated me like shit at work. You don’t get to see me playing dress-up and think it’s all okay and then pull me into some private room, bend me over, and fuck me.”
He stiffens at my words, then looks around to make sure no one heard. “Grace,” he whispers, leaning into me. “I am truly sorry for the way I acted. I-I just have trouble dealing with the aftermath of—”
“Carson Taylor.” A man says his name loudly and Carson steps away before anyone can see how close we are.
I sneak away after that. Not wanting to listen to his excuses because I know that is all they are.
I meander around the room and find my way back to my brother.
“I see you switched to vodka.”