Madison
I blinked hard, rubbing my eyes. This couldn't be real. Maybe the champagne had gone to my head? But no - there she was, perfect teeth flashing as she tossed her hair over one shoulder.
Abigail Whitmore.
My stomach dropped. The bathroom mirror's confidence boost evaporated as I watched her lean toward Alexander, her designer dress probably worth three months of my salary. Her laugh carried across the restaurant, making my skin crawl.
What a joke. Here I was, getting all hot and bothered by his touches under the table, believing his whispered dessert promises at his place. And now Abigail sat there, commanding his attention like she owned him.
Alexander had a short history with her last year after meeting her in a pub through mutual friends.
I remembered that night at the pub
