Bound to my Enemy novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Chapter NINE.

I sighed, irritation starting to creep in. "I’m not most girls."

He smirked. "That’s what they all say."

I finished my drink and picked up the second glass, scanning the crowd again.

Still no sign of Ivy.

I checked my phone.

Nothing from her.

I set the glass down and shifted my weight, the first real spark of concern blooming in my chest.

"She’s probably stuck in line," I told myself. "VIP or not."

Ryan leaned closer again. "You seem tense."

"I am," I said shortly.

"Come onlet me help you relax."

Before I could respond, he reached out, his hand brushing my arm.

That did it.

I stepped back sharply and shoved his shoulder away from me. Not hard enough to make a scene, but enough to make my point.

"Don’t fuckign touch me," I said.

His expression changed instantly, irritation flashing across his face. "Wow. Okay."

"Move," I added.

He scoffed. "You didn’t have to be like that."

"I absolutely did."

He muttered something under his breath about being a bitch and finally stepped away, disappearing back into the crowd.

I barely noticed.

My attention was already elsewhere.

I grabbed my phone and typed quickly.

Where are you cupcakes?

I left the drinks on the bar and pushed through the crowd, heading for the stairs, my pulse picking up with every step. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Too many places to miss someone.

I moved quickly, scanning faces, dresses, hair colors. Ivy’s laugh usually carried. Her energy stood out.

Not now.

My mind jumped to every possibility at once. She could’ve gotten lost. She could’ve met someone. She could’ve panicked and gone somewhere quiet without thinking to text.

Or....

I shook the thought away and pushed forward.

That was when I heard her voice.

"I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to..."

I turned sharply.

She stood near one of the booths, hands clasped together tightly, shoulders drawn in. Her eyes were wide, panicked, shining too brightly under the low lights. A half-empty drink sat on the table beside her, liquid spilled across the surface and dripping down the edge.

A man stood in front of her.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a dark suit that looked untouched by trend or effort. The fabric was soaked along one side, darkened by whatever Ivy had spilled on him.