Page 78 of When Forever Falls Apart

My gaze flicks to where the man is supposedly standing. Upon seeing the cute guy, a wave of disappointment washes over me, causing my shoulders to slump instantly.

Don’t think it.You were not expecting it to be Elliot, even though you were.

The man slowly makes his way through the crowd until he’s standing beside me at the bar. “You’re gorgeous,” he says, leaning in. “Can I buy you a drink?”

The corners of my mouth turn up as I lean back into him and say, “How about we dance instead?”

With a grin on his handsome face and his hand resting on my lower back, I’m momentarily distracted by my cell vibrating in my beaded clutch. I attempt to ignore it, but it vibrates repeatedly, so I take it out of my clutch just in case it’s important. All day, my phone was ondo not disturbbecause I didn’t want to speak to anyone.

But this time, I quickly read the text messages on the screen.

Elliot

Where are you?

Elliot

Tell the guy with his hands on you to remove them if he knows what’s good for him.

Elliot

Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.

My chest rises and falls while I lift my gaze from the screen and scan my surroundings. The club is alive with the rhythm of music that beckons people to the dance floor. Groups sway in unison, laughter ringing out among them, while others embrace the intimacy of a partner’s seductive moves.

There are also the vivacious solo dancers, mainly women, who dance as if no one is watching. They carry their glasses of cosmopolitans, living their best single girl life.

In the midst of this lively atmosphere, I spot Ava, her brow furrowed in concentration as she texts away on her phone, oblivious to everything around her. The rest of our group has scattered around the club.

Then something pulls me to the large neon sign, hung on the back wall against the red brick. Leaning against the wall, Elliot watches me with a stern, possessive gaze, heat practically steaming from his ears. I feel his eyes all over me, the thrill of his jealous stare sending a shiver of pleasure all over my body.

The guy reaches to grab my hand, but I quickly let it go, then lean in to tell him, “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why? You with someone?”

The truth is, I’m not with anyone, so Elliot’s stare should not intimidate me. With a sudden burst of confidence, I reply, “You know what? You’re right, let’s dan—”

A firm hand wraps around my wrist—the grip is so tight and unyielding that it sends a jolt of surprise through me.

The smell of his aftershave envelops me before I have a chance to cast my eyes on him.

Slowly, I lift my gaze until our eyes lock. Elliot holds my stare, then informs the guy beside me, “She’s mine. Let her go.”

She’s mine.

The words echo in my head, his possessive tone stirring something profound inside me that craves this man’s dominance.

What the hell is wrong with me?

This is all kinds of fucked up.

It has to be the fireball. Nothing good ever comes from doing fireball shots.

I snatch my arm out of his grip, refusing to let my guard down again. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have some Parisian girlfriend waiting for you?”

“Madelina, can we go somewhere and talk, please?” he pleads, the sudden shift in expression distracting me from my anger.

“Why?” I question, then remember what Nicole said earlier. “So you can make me think I’m going crazy?”