POV’s Tate
I stepped out into the cool, night air. I’d decided to wear a pair of black slacks and a cream silk button-down. A gold belt was cinched at my waist, and I held a small leather purse in my hand. My ballet flats didn’t make a sound as I walked out to the town car waiting for me.
I opened the door, silently sitting inside.
“Good evening,” I greeted the driver, trying to hide my nerves with a smile.
“Good evening, Miss Mathison,” he replied, eyes not leaving the road as he began driving.
My hangover felt significantly better after I’d showered and taken a nap. Now, a new pain entered my stomach, and it had nothing to do with how much I had drunk last night.
I fidgeted with the gold bracelets covering my wrists, staring out the window. I didn’t dare ask for the aux. I didn’t n
