Wrath (Sinful Secrets 4)

Holy shit! He’s got a million followers.

There's that smile again. The charmer. "I'm sorta...known," he says. "I don't need that sort of shit on my name. Also, not a dick." He lifts his dark brows, and I wonder if they're real. They look so thick and...perfect.

"Here ya go, babe." He puts keys in my hand. Then he pulls his phone up again. "Just sent you the address on Snap."

I lean closer to him, looking at his face. The perfect bones. Just like a model.

"You smell good," I whisper. Just like Ezra. My eyes feel so heavy.

"Let's get you to a cab, sweetie. I'm gonna let your friend the blond guy know the address if he's still here."

I nod.

His hand comes to my back as we go back down the dark hall. Back into the more exterior hall, back into the loud main room. I start toward the bar, but his hand presses against my back.

"Let me pick the tab up for you."

"Why?"

He smiles down at me, kind and mentor-like, but somehow also flirty as his fingers trace my cheek. "Because of these," he says, meaning my freckles. I have the thought: if I were older and not head-fucked, he'd be perfect. "Let an old guy help a kid out." He gets the door for me. "I promise you’ll be safe there for the night. Do the deadbolt, though. You don't know me."

My head swims as he shuts the door of my cab. I frown at him through the tinted window as the driver sets off for the address my new friend—what's his name?—gave them.

I unlock my phone, going straight to Snapchat. It has a location feature? How did I miss that?

I check messages. DomBryant. I go to his profile.

Holy fuck. Four million followers on Snapchat.

I think about his diamond bling and smile to myself. That...tricker. Trickster.

Pretty.

I imagine Ezra wearing diamonds.

Stop, drunk Miller.

I go to TikTok. Put in "Dom Bryant."

His gorgeous face comes up. Nice shades and good hair—like an ocean wave. His lips puckered. All cheekbones. Jesus. I stare at the three million followers he has there.

Dom Bryant.

I lean my head back against the seat, trying not to feel sick. I think of Ezra's arms around my waist.

My hands sweat as I pull up the contact for Ez and send a text.

‘Where did you go?’

Tears drip from my eyes. I wipe them and watch the road. That was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It's been a long time since I did that. Fucking dumb drunk Miller.

He never replies.

All the lanes are congested and bumper to bumper. I feel like I might throw up. I text Daniel.

'I'll pin drop where I am. You can stay too'

The cab is swerving. I'm breathing out of my mouth. Everything looks big and dark and blurry. Side streets. This one is bright. Lots of signs and buildings. Then the cab jerks to a stop.

"Here we are, at the Mahogany."

The Mahogany? Is that where I’m supposed to be? I get out, careful, since I’m so numb, and I frown up at the pale stone building. Where am I? What was I thinking?

I look at my phone, feeling a shot of fear. I'm too drunk to get back to the bar. I don't know where I am.

I find another message on Snap. 'It’s called the Mahogany. You go inside and there's a butler. He's nice. There's an elevator. You're floor five, room 501. Door passcode is 119973. If you need help, ask Richard for help. If you have trouble- call me.' He's listed his phone number.

I do what Dom tells me, feeling like a goldfish in the ocean. Then I'm in the room. It's huge and white, with gleaming marble floors and high, high ceilings. I inhale something floral, and I'm about to get sick.

I was stupid to come here. I wash my face in the kitchen sink and try to not feel so sick. I feel dizzy. I walk around the living room, noting a baby grand. It makes me want to cry.

I don't belong here.

I don't belong anywhere.

I find a bedroom. Big bed. I get in it, and the sheets feel cold.

Everything is spinning. I hold my phone to my chest.

"Ezra."

I'm pathetic. And I know it.

Something warm and heavy on my shoulder shakes me awake. "Hey, babe. You okay?"

I roll over onto my back, wanting to die from the pain in my head. I crack my eyes open and see him with his head tilted a little, smiling with his pretty lips pressed shut, looking sexy, young, and daddy-ish all at the same time.

He ruffles a hand back through his hair, long and wavy on top. "What can I do?" he asks simply.

"What time is it?"

He looks at his phone. "Ten after twelve."

"Oh shit. I need to go home." I sit up, wincing.

"I caught your friend as he left with someone. Let him know you were good."