My scalp prickles. Where the fuck is she? It doesn't take this long to piss, especially when you have nothing to take off to do it.
Rhys has his arm around his wife's waist as he leads her over. "Calla's had enough." He chuckles as she leans into him.
Her eyes droop. "Oh, shut up. You were not up with Aud at four thirty this morning."
"No, I wasn't." He places a kiss on her temple. "And that's why you're the better parent."
She snorts but snuggles closer into his embrace. "Where is D?" Lilly scans the room.
"She went to use the bathroom," Ethan elaborates, which appeases her.
"Why don't we head to the car, and Ethan can—" Rhys begins, but I cut him off.
"I'll get Keller."
Lilly's attention snaps to my face, but she remains mute. She surveys me curiously. There is the roller-coaster sensation in my core again. Knowing her, she will interrogate me first thing tomorrow.
Her husband, on the other hand, is oblivious or doesn't give two fucks. "Sounds good. We'll see you outside."
Lilly digs her heels in and places her hand on my forearm. I can't decipher the message she's sending me. My thumbnail slices into the pad of my middle finger until the sting is enough of a distraction for my brain to spin on what my employer... friend is trying to tell me. Rhys urges her forward once more, and she complies. Our eyes remain locked until she is out of sight.
I checkthe time on my watch again. Denielle has been gone longer than she should've been. Something crawls up the inside of my stomach walls, and I recognize it as the emotion that caused me to intervene three days ago: concern.
Reminding myself that she's a grown woman, whom Idon'tcare about, I stride across the hall to the ladies' room. Knocking once, I push the door open. The two stalls are empty. The unease begins to expand, and coldness slithers through my veins.
Where the hell is she?
I slowly advance in the direction of the stairs leading to the main room below. She wouldn't have gone into any of the other lounges. Putting one foot in front of the other on autopilot, I take my phone back out of my pocket and log onto the app we use to access the cameras. Checking the one outside the bathroom, I go back ten minutes. I find the moment Denielle enters the bathroom. She disappears inside but reappears not a minute later.
What the hell?
I continue to watch. She aims at our suite but stops abruptly. Opening her clutch, she pulls her phone out. Thanks to the quality of the feed, the crease on her forehead is clear as day. She squints at the screen, then down the hallway. She's swaying on her feet. The bottle she pretty much single-handedly killed has hit its mark. Denielle chews on her bottom lip, and the mere action on the tiny screen shoots signals to my groin I refuse to acknowledge. She swivels on her heels and weaves down the corridor.
Confusion mingles with irritation and concern, shutting up the primal need to feel her teeth on me—my neck, my chest, anywhere. A combination I don't like but am starting to get used to when it comes to this woman.
"Sandstorm" by Darude shakes the building. Sounds like we've entered the nostalgia part of the night. The strobe lights bounce off the metallic black walls, and the closer I get to the archway blocked off by a red velvet rope, the more grateful I am that Lilly rarely comes here on techno night. I don't like people, much less a bunch of club hoppers in their midtwenties, jumping up and down to a song that's as old as them.
Callum, the bouncer manning the entrance to the VIP floor, nods at me. "Bax, good to see you, my man. Didn't know you were in the house. Not your usual scene." He smirks.
I pull the corner of my mouth up. The dude is greasier than the shit Ethan puts in his hair. "Don't tell me. The bosses had a night out, but we lost a friend of theirs." I scan the crowd closest to us. "See a dark-haired girl come through here? Silver dress."
"Hard to miss that one." His leery grin stretches, his teeth becoming the perfect target for my fist. "Headed that way."
I flex my fingers while following his outstretched, stubby digit.
Why do I care what he thinks or says about Keller?
He points toward one of the slightly elevated areas above the center dance floor. I don't spot her until a couple splits apart, and the sequins of her dress reflect the strobe lights like a beacon in the sea of bodies. Fire spreads through me like an inferno. Denielle's arms are above her head, her eyes are closed, and she's moving with the sound. I didn't know it was possible to dance to this music in a way that doesn't make you appear like you're having muscle spasms. Denielle's movements are fluid yet perfectly aligned with the bass and change in tempo.
I grind my teeth, refusing to let the smile that wants to show on my face appear. It's attraction—nothing more, nothing less. She's hot, that's all.
Liar, liar, pants on fire. Literally.
She twirls, falling into someone. She is fucking plastered. I take a step when her arms wrap around that someone. My foot hovers in the air, and my spine stiffens.
What the—?
"She your girl?" Callum's question registers in my brain.