I left Carter and his stupid redhead and hurried inside. My head was throbbing with nerves and angry questions: Had I really been so easy to replace? Why call me when he was with another woman?

The answer came as a twist of my lips as I sat down at the booth Helen was waiting for me in.

Because he could. Because it was another one of his games. Carter Ray was a heartless man who liked playing with people like they were his own personal dolls.

“Honey, how are you?” Helen asked, her ring-bedazzled fingers clasping my hand. “I warned you…”

And, speak of the devil, there he was, standing at our booth, his black eyes on me.

“Can I talk to you?”

I looked away.

“No.”

“Donna, please.”

I kept my gaze on Helen’s face, which looked as determined as I should have been.

“Go away, Carter. Leave me alone.”

“Donna, I’m serious—”

“Hey, bro, I got us another bottle.”

I looked up to see just about the last person I wanted to.

“Oy, Freckles, you’re here?”

It was the jerk customer who’d come in from time to time these past few weeks. The douchebag who Carter was friends with, of course. I should’ve figured.

His gaze was on my cleavage and his fleshy lips were saying, “Hey, you should join our table.”

I shook my head.

“We’re meeting a friend, thanks.”

As if on cue, Kyle appeared behind Carter and Douchebag.

Wearing a starched shirt and a confused smile, he said, “Donna?”

“Kyle!” I exclaimed, pushing past the two buff bodies to reach the thinner one.

Throwing my arms around him, I craned my head around so I could enjoy the discomfort on Carter’s face as I pressed myself to Kyle. I separated from him slowly and then, taking his hand, led him into the booth beside me.

“We ran into some friends,” I said, throwing a sneer their way. “They were just leaving.”

And, sulking off, finally, they did.

Kyle was looking at me like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“Donna, you look…”

“Stunning, right!” Helen piped up. “I told her the red dress was perfect for tonight.”

There was something frantic in her words, and yet I found myself smiling, nodding.

Yes, now that things had been decided, they were going to go just fine.

While Helen and Kyle chatted about something or other, a bottle was put down on our table.

The waiter inclined his head to the corner of the room. “From that gentleman.”

I shook my head.

“There’s been a mistake.”

He shook his frizzy blond head.

“He said it was for the woman in the red dress.”

I shook mine again.

“Well, I don’t want it.”

“Here, I’ll order us something,” Kyle said, lifting the bottle and extending it to the waiter. “You can take this back, and I’ll order a pitcher of sangria.”

The waiter nodded and disappeared without another word.

“Thanks, Kyle,” I said.

I touched his chest at the same time as I tossed a glare to Carter. Smiling at me, Kyle slipped his arm around me. Helen smiled at us while the music, the calm, smooth beat, egged us on.

The pitcher took a long time to arrive, but we didn’t take long to finish it. Everything was gradually becoming inconsequential, delightfully blurry. More drinks came and went, and Helen, Kyle, and I laughed at everything and nothing, and yet, through it all, Carter was on the periphery.

No matter how much I drank, I could feel him, watching me with his steely gaze, ordering drinks he didn’t need. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about caring about me or anything like that. This was about winning and losing, and Carter Ray, who always got what he wanted, didn’t want to lose. I was the prize he hadn’t quite finished with yet, so he was going to do his damnedest to win me back.

As I staggered off to the bathroom, delivering him an extra-icy glare, I almost felt like striding up to him and saying it to his face, “I’m done with being toyed with. Now, I’m going for what’s good for me. Rather, who’s good for me.”

And yet, inside the small, too-black box of the bathroom, I still couldn’t escape him. It was just like his building, dark and imposing, just like those eyes of his. Carter.

I glared at the girl who was crying in the mirror, the girl I used to know. What had I been doing these past few weeks? What was wrong with me? The answer was with the man out there, the one with the heartless black eyes. The one I passed as I exited the bathroom and walked toward the table with my friends.

Halfway there, however, my arm was grabbed. It was the muscular douchebag, the one with the cropped hair, Carter’s friend. He had a reddish orange drink in his hand, and he was looking at me.

“Got this for you.”

He extended the drink. Over his shoulder, I saw Carter watching us with something that looked like worry in his furtive eyes. I took the drink and, glaring at Carter all the while, downed it in one go.