I reached for another glass.
The server had stopped hovering. Maybe he’d given up on trying to monitor my intake. Or he didn’t care anymore.
The champagne didn’t taste as good as it had at first. The bubbles felt harsh against my tongue. But I drank it anyway.
I did not want to give my brain any time to remember the look in Zane’s eyes when he had asked me about the lounge.
I moved away from the drinks table, weaving slightly as I walked. The hall had grown louder, and everything began to feel too much.
I found a column near the edge of the room and leaned against it, pressing my forehead to the cool stone.
Breathe. Just breathe.
But my thoughts would not quiet.
Did Zane actually care? About me? Or was this all just wounded pride because another male had gotten too close to somethi
