ASHLEY
"Stop following me!" I spin so fast Remy nearly runs into me and I shove him. f**k.
My heels skid against the marble but I don’t care. If there weren’t guests still drifting toward the valet, I’d rip the damn things off and sprint. I’d chase him barefoot. Bleeding if I had to.
Where the hell is he?
Where the f**k is Beckett?
My eyes drag the lobby in wide, frantic sweeps—gold sconces, velvet drapery, the distant murmur of some senator’s wife laughing too hard at something unfunny. I don’t see him. I don’t see anything.
He was here. I saw him.
He saw everything.
“Ash—stop.” Remy catches up just enough to grab my arm again.
I jerk away like it burns. “Don’t f*****g touch me.”
His mouth tightens. His tux is crooked, breath hot with champagne and whatever lies he’s about t
