Page 75 of Fake Dark Vows
He cups my face in both hands. His tongue fills my mouth, and I find myself sliding scarily towards the point of no return.
“Come on.” He pulls away, offers me his hand and entwines his fingers with mine while we join the line to get out. “People have been staring at you since we saw Moulin Rouge.”
“Oh, don’t tell me that.”
“Why not? You look beautiful tonight, Rose.” He holds my gaze, and I feel the heat flooding into my cheeks.
“More beautiful than last night?”
“I only remember you with your clothes off last night.”
After the warm buzz of the Colosseum, we enter the vibrant headiness of the Vanderpump Cocktail Garden. My cheeks are still hot from Brandon’s reminder of what happened after our drunken wedding. I breathe in the scent of his cologne, his shampoo, the champagne we drank at the show, and I want to kiss him. My jeans rub when I walk, and I can still feel him inside me.
It’s like existing inside a bubble of sex that only the two of us know about. We walk and talk and drink champagne as if we belong with the rest of the world, when all I can think about when I’m with him is how it would feel to find a secluded corner and feel him inside me, oblivious to what’s going on around us.
We find a table and order cocktails. My drink, when it arrives, is dusky pink, with edible glitter and gems decorating the rim of the glass. It’s easier to hide behind a drink and pretend that I can’t feel Brandon’s thigh rubbing against mine. It also gives me the opportunity to check out the other guests.
Groups of people are chatting noisily, heads tipped back with laughter. There are couples sitting close together, shoulders rubbing. A young woman with long blonde hair leans into her boyfriend and sucks his earlobe, and I quickly look away.
Then I catch the eye of a man wearing a black crew-neck sweater and black pants. I scan past him, taking little notice. But then something draws me back to him, only he isn’t there. I pinpoint the exact place I saw him, studying the tables on either side of where he was sitting, frustrated at myself for not paying more attention.
I don’t even know why I’m so intent on finding him. I don’t know him. I’m not attracted to him. But there was something familiar about him, and it will eat away at me until I figure it out.
I wish Jess was here—she has the memory of an elephant when it comes to faces.
Brandon’s phone vibrates with an incoming call. He checks the caller ID, scrunches up his face, and murmurs, “I have to take this call, sorry. I’ll be as quick as I can.” He kisses my lips before he walks away, and it’s all I can feel, his mouth on mine.
I continue scanning the bar for the man in black. Although, with the lingering kiss imprinted on my lips, it’s more for something to do until Brandon returns than any sense of urgency or fulfillment. It will probably come to me in the middle of the night that I met him once in a café, or he was a kid from my homeroom at high school.
Someone slides into the booth beside me, and I turn around to find Damon grinning at me while he checks out my cocktail. “Didn’t have you down as someone who enjoys these tacky drinks.”
“Damon, what are you doing here?” My eyes flit around the room hoping to find Brandon heading back to the booth. But he’s nowhere to be seen.
“What kind of welcome is that, sister-in-law?” Damon wrinkles his nose as if the title sounds all wrong when spoken out loud.
“Sorry, I just didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Here in Vegas, or here in the same cocktail bar as my brother and his new wife?”
I think about the half-story he fed me on Ruby Island about Brandon and Kelly, and his complete lack of spatial awareness, especially after a few cocktails, and I instinctively slide away from him. Where is Brandon? I’ll be disappointed if I find out that he already knew Damon was here, or worse, that he invited him along.
“What do you want, Damon?” I keep my voice low.
“Nothing. Just thought I’d stop by and keep you company as my brother has left you all alone.”
“He hasn’t left me all alone, he’s taking a call.”
“That’s my brother. Can’t resist working even in Vegas.”
I can’t look at him. I don’t know Damon, but I do know that his conversation with me on my last day on Ruby Island was manipulative and sly, a well-aimed half-truth to steer me in the wrong direction. I also know that he is nothing like his brother.
“Are you here with Kelly?”
“Fuck no.” Damon picks up Brandon’s drink and downs it without asking. “Kelly wouldn’t be seen dead in Vegas.”
I don’t know if that’s a dig at me or at his wife, so I keep quiet.
“I’m here with Jennifer, although I seem to have lost her somewhere.”