Drowning in the Deep (Dancing With the Devil Book 3) by Nicole York

Author:Nicole York [York, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Star Key Press
Published: 2023-09-19T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

ELISA

I woke up on the couch with an empty wine glass still in my hand. Disoriented, I looked around, hearing Sarah’s box fan whirring from her bedroom. That told me she’d gone to bed. Most of the night was a blur. I remembered getting drunk and sitting in her room, watching something on TV, but that was about it.

Sitting up, I wiped drool from my mouth and sat up, my head beginning to throb and my hair attempting to strangle me. Absently, I brushed it back over my shoulder and pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead.

It seemed like I was missing something, like I’d come in here for a reason, but I couldn’t remember what it was. Had I been going somewhere? Unlikely, considering my drunken stupor. Had I been waiting for someone?”

“Daemon.” I said his name aloud as it all came back to me. He’d said he’d call me back, but that had been hours ago. Anger rushed through my veins, but it was followed quickly by fear. What if he hadn’t called me back because something had happened to him?

Then it dawned on me that he very well might have called me back, but I’d missed the call because I was drunk off my ass. Setting my glass on the coffee table, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked to see if I had any missed calls or texts. When I saw I had neither, disappointment replaced the anger and fear I’d been feeling. Why couldn’t he even keep a simple promise to me?

I noticed it was past two in the morning. Would he still be out and about doing his mafia stuff at this hour? It was possible, but it had been nearly a full workday’s worth of hours since he’d said he'd call me back. Whatever he was doing, it must’ve been important. Either that, or I was very unimportant.

Letting out a sigh, I set my phone down on the couch next to me. Why did men have to be so fucking irritating? He could’ve just called me to say that he was busy and he’d have to catch up with me tomorrow. Even a text would’ve done that job. But no, he left me sitting here waiting for him for half the night. And he probably didn’t even think about me once. If he had something he needed to do tonight, why didn’t he mention it when I spoke to him earlier?

“Because he doesn’t give a flying fuck,” I muttered, shaking my head. It was evident that he could care less about me. Why was I so fucking pathetic? If I could just get it into my thick head that I was better off alone, I’d be a much happier person. All I really needed in this life was wine and houseplants. My eyes went to the sagging geranium across the room, and I wondered if I’d watered it recently.

Maybe just wine, then.

“I’m cursed,” I told myself. “Every man that enters my life is a brute and an asshole, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

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