Filthy English (English #2) - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,18

home watching old movies with Malcolm.

“Once you break the seal . . .” Lulu did the pee dance. “Where you going?” she asked as I turned back to leave.

“You stay. I don’t have to go. Just—don’t feel well and it’s too hot in here. Tequila, I guess.”

“Don’t go far,” she called as I exited.

Once outside the room, I leaned back against the wall of the club, fighting with my roiling stomach. A bead of sweat rolled down my face and I shoved strands of hair behind my ears.

A rush of fresh air hit my face as someone walked out a back door that read EMERGENCY EXIT several feet away.

Yes! Air!

I turned to head that way, but a male voice stopped me. “Hiya, sweets.”

I turned around to see the bartender, but he looked different, having changed from his white employee shirt to a black tee.

“I poured some shots for you earlier tonight?” A gruff laugh came out. “You probably don’t even remember me.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I do actually. It’s Mike, right?”

He shot me a grin. “Yeah. Last time I saw you, you were throwing shoes and turning flips.”

I grimaced. “Sorry you had to witness that ridiculousness. Par for the course, I’m afraid.”

He’d probably seen me sucking face with Dax too. Nice.

I edged toward the exit door a little at a time, hoping he’d take the hint, but he kept talking, mostly thanking me for leaving him the tip.

“So, I’m off work. You wanna grab a drink together or dance?” He’d stepped in closer to me, taller than I remembered, and smelling nice.

I opened my mouth to say no when I happened to glance up at one of the smaller balconies that went out over the dance floor, giving the occupants a bird’s eye view of the entire club. One of the roving spotlights landed squarely on Dax’s face as he leaned over the railing to gaze out.

As I watched him from afar, the slutty redhead from earlier came up to him and draped herself on his arm.

My gut clenched.

Seeing him with other girls never got any easier, although I’d learned to hide my jealousy well over the years.

As if he sensed me, he turned and our eyes connected over the heads of people thrashing on the dance floor. He had his mask back on, but his turbulent eyes were boring into mine, digging under my skin.

God, please, no matter what, I had to stay away.

“Hey?”

Shaking off his gaze, I blinked and looked back at Mike. “Sorry. I zoned out.” I let out a weak laugh. “Truth is, I really want to puke right now—maybe a rain check? I’m here all week, and I’m sure my friend will want to come back.” Unfortunately.

He took a quick step back, a wary expression on his face. “Oh. That sucks. Yeah, do what you have to do to feel better.”

“Thanks. I’m going to head outside for a bit. Is it safe out there?”

“Sure. Employees use that door and there’s a car park to the left and a main road to the right. You’re fine.” He waved a hasty goodbye and beat it out to where the action was. He grabbed a blonde by the hand and they took off to the dance floor.

Obviously, talk of vomit made guys scarce.

Once outside the exit, I saw a deserted alley, except for an old green dumpster and a scrawny cat eating from a box of takeout. The feline hissed and sent me a glare before diving back into the Styrofoam container.

A single lamppost near the street provided enough light that it was considerably brighter outside than the inside of the club. I sighed and sat down on a rickety metal chair with a myriad of cigarette butts around the legs. The employees probably took their smoke breaks out here.

After a few minutes of air, I immediately felt better.

I checked the time on my phone. Midnight in London, which meant seven at night in Raleigh.

Hartford was probably going out with his friends tonight.

I opened my camera on my phone, swiping at the selfies I’d taken with Lulu around London today. After a red-eye flight the day before, we’d slept in this morning at The Tower Hotel. We’d gotten up in time to catch a pre-scheduled tour of Shakespeare’s Globe and then had dinner and drinks at Swan, a hip two-story bar and restaurant with panoramic views of the Thames and St. Paul’s Cathedral. The night view of the skyline had been absolutely breathtaking—just like I had carefully planned