Heartless: Episode 1

Girls can be crazy.

So, Elizabeth’s assumptions pissed me off and riled me up—if I believed them, that was, which I didn’t. I convinced myself that her rant had nothing to do with me and everything to do with her. She was wrong, so wrong, and most likely, she had projected a failed relationship onto me.

I bet she’d wanted to change a guy once before, and it hadn’t worked out in her favor. He had probably been upfront from the beginning, but she never wanted to hear it, or she’d refused to believe him. When it had finally ended—his decision, of course—her heart had shattered, and he’d walked away pain free.

Idiot.

From my research, I had noticed that she wasn’t married. Yes, I’d checked. When I’d double-checked her left hand to see if an engagement ring sat on the proper finger, I’d breathed out a fucking sigh of relief when I found it empty. Relief! I recognized this gut feeling in me instantly even though it had been years since I genuinely felt it.

I wanted her.

I fucking wanted her.

From the second she’d spilled her drink on me, I’d wanted to rip that tightly fitted dress right off her body and show her how well I’d fit her instead.

I should have walked away. The second she shut the restroom door, I should have bolted.

But I hadn’t

.

I couldn’t.

5.

ELIZABETH

After blotting my face and fixing my makeup, I opened the restroom door to see Daniel standing there, leaning against the wall with his hand running across the scruff on his cheeks. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Why?” I asked, my tone annoyed. I headed back toward the grand ballroom—or at least the direction I assumed was the right way.

“For such a smart girl, you sure ask a lot of stupid questions.”

I stopped walking and turned to face him. My finger poking against his taut chest, I said, “I never claimed to be smart, and you’re the stupid one. Go find some other girl who will give you her panties.”

“I told you, I don’t fuck strangers.”

“Then, what the hell do you want?”

“He must have really screwed you over.” Daniel’s breath was hot against my cheek, and I swatted him away, determined not to give in.

“He who?”

“The one who made you hate men.”

“I don’t hate men.”

“Then, why are you so angry?”

“Maybe you’re just annoying.”

“Maybe you just hate men,” he fired back, the words drawn-out and deliberate.

“I told you, I don’t hate men.”

“Just me then? It’s just me you can’t stand?” He smirked, and his laugh lines reappeared.