DECEIT (B723) - Hazel Grace (the reader ebook .txt) 📗

Three hours, that’s always been our max.

It’s enough time for him to socialize, appear that he gives a shit, and keep his reputation of being approachable, connected, and kind.

Drinking my second scotch, I listen to the dense blur of chatter behind me when a male voice enters clearly and extremely too close to me.

“What is a woman wearing a dress like that doing at a bar by herself?” I roll my eyes without even giving him the courtesy of looking at him.

“That was by far the lamest thing I’ve heard all night, and that’s saying something when I’m in a room full of politicians.”

I hear a deep and amused chuckle, then notice a body plop into the stool next to me, interrupting my peace and quiet. “Normally, I’m not so forward, but—“

“That wasn’t forward. It was lame.” I force myself to glance over, fully not expecting what’s sitting at my right.

Immaculate white teeth smile at me, showing off two slight dimples as he does. He's dressed to the nines in a black and white ensemble and matching tie with hazel eyes and medium brown hair. His jawline is sharp and model-worthy and why the hell he’s speaking to me right now is beyond me.

Regardless, it doesn’t matter because his line was still stupid. Still, I’m appreciating the type of male that just invited himself into my bubble.

“And you’re obviously not a dumb blonde,” he states forwardly.

I perk a curious and challenging brow. “Did you have a bet with someone that I would be?”

“I have to admit—“ He gives a noncommittal shrug. “—I judged you before my ass hit this seat.”

“Ah.” I twirl my glass then decide to unladylike chug it all the way back as to wrap this lovely conversation up. “Well, I’d say it was a pleasure, but you fucked up my quiet corner alone so, thanks.”

Fiddling with my clutch, I pull some bills out of my wallet for a tip when his hand shoots out in front of me.

“I’m Alexander, and I’m an ass clown.”

“I hate clowns.” I toss my twenty on the bartop and ignore his gesture.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“Can’t.” I round my stool, pissed off more than I was before.

If Bishop were here, I wouldn’t have to worry about bachelors or men with wives coming up with shit just to speak with me. I wouldn’t be alone here. I could’ve called Mills, but stupid ass me held on to hope that Bishop would surprise me.

“Emmy.” My name off his lips halts me immediately in my tracks. I purposely never mentioned it and, with that small fact, I slowly turn around.

Alexander’s slight smirk never leaves his face, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s conceded as fuck or that confident.

Sometimes they’re one in the same.

“I may have asked Wade Lockwood who you were,” he offers. “I thought you might have been his wife. I was happy to know that you’re not.”

“And if I was?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re content or not?”

I cross my arms along my chest. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Just flew in last week.”

“Then you’d definitely know that Reagan is a beautiful raven-haired goddess with violet eyes. Then you’d also realize that if Wade Lockwood told you to stay away from me, he meant it.” Alexander perks a broke because if I know Lockwood like I do the back of my hand, he said it.

“Something along those lines, yeah.” His hazel eyes slowly fall back to mine. “But I never was one to follow directions. I’m the youngest child, brat, always went my own way, takes unnecessary risks, and was constantly teased by my brothers. I’m the textbook definition of a guy who will live too fast and die young.”

“Hence your stupid approach to me.”

“You’re still talking to me, aren’t you?”

I scoff and push my cheek out with the tip of my tongue. “Touché.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“They’re free.”

“Right, I meant do you wanna leave this lifeless party and go somewhere with music and normal people?”

“Tempting,” I drone, not bothering to hide how unimpressed I am at this conversation. “But, no…thanks.” Alexander bobs his head, knowing that he’s out of cards to play with me.

He tried, failed but was brutally honest. I can somewhat respect that.

“Maybe some other time,” he remarks before holding out his hand for me to maybe shake this time. “It was nice meeting you, Emmy. I hope I see you soon. You’re the only person in here that hasn’t made me want to blow my own eardrums out.”

My lips quirk because facts. “Have a good night, Alexander.”

Pivoting, I stride to go find Wade, glancing down at my watch to see how much more time we have.

An hour.

I locate him with a young waitress with light brown hair, receiving another glass of brandy and getting his ear talked off by some bald guy that looks like Danny Devito.

“Dude likes to talk about the chandeliers in this place,” Alexander mutters behind me. “Allegedly, they’re pre-Civil War.”

“Oh my God. I thought I got rid of you.”

“I had to come this way,” he counters lightly. “Besides, you’re alone again.”

“I like it that way.” My eyes suddenly catch the determined marching of a tall brunette in a purple dress, glinting against the lighting in the room, her focus on me.

Or what’s behind me.

I would know that possessive, jealous, and entitled ass expression anywhere. I grew up in the fucking Hampton’s.

And I’m not about to go full-on B723 on her ass if she attempts to clap back at me for talking to her boyfriend, fiancé, husband, fuck buddy, or whatever label he has.

She should’ve babysat him better.

I could give her tips but, alas, my patience is thinning and I’m about to cut this supposed hour of being here short.

“Alexander,” she coos sweetly and loudly, receiving looks from people nearby and now on dummy and me. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

My eyes then connect with Wade’s, thanks to loudmouth, and I give him the look.

The come save me right now look.

“I will pay