Chapter 59: Get. In. The. Car

Lysander turns around slowly. The first person his eyes land on is Isabella.

He doesn’t say anything probably because he doesn’t have to. The look he gives her could probably freeze lava.

His jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed, and for a second, the music, the flashing lights, and all the noise around us seem to disappear beneath the sheer weight of his stare.

Isabella immediately raises both hands.

*Not my fault.*

That’s exactly what her face says.

She even gives him a tiny shrug and i almost laugh.

Then his eyes move to me, his expression doesn’t get any better. If anything, it gets worse.

He looks me up and down once, taking in my flushed face, my messy hair, the drink still loosely hanging from my fingers, and probably the fact that I’m swaying slightly on my feet.

Then he sighs.

"Come on. That’s enough for today. Let’s go home."

"But I want moreeeee."

I drag the last word out, probably sounding like a five-year-old begging for candy.

Lysander just looks at me.

"No."

"But..."

"No."

"Just one more."

"Nerissa."

"Half?"

"No."

"A quarter?"

His eyebrow twitche and I grin.

He doesn’t.

"You’re no fun."

"I’ve been told."

He doesn’t waste another second arguing with me. Instead, he bends down.

"What are you..."

His arm hooks around my legs and the next thing I know, the entire world flips upside down.

"AH!"

Lysander throws me over his shoulder like I’m a sack of potatoes.

I immediately scream as blood rushes straight into my head, and combined with all the alcohol swimming around in my stomach, everything suddenly feels ten times more chaotic.

"Lysander!"

He starts walking.

"You freaking bastard! Drop me right now!"

Nothing.

"I mean it!"

Still nothing.

I smack his back hard but it’s like hitting a wall, he doesn’t even flinch.

I hit him again and again.

"Put me down!"

When he keeps walking I groan dramatically.

"This is kidnapping!"

I can feel my face burning, I cannot believe this is happening. I’m being carried out of a nightclub over some man’s shoulder like a naughty child who refused to leave the playground.

And people are watching, people are actually watching.

"This is humiliating," I mumble.

Lysander doesn’t answer.

"Do you hear me?"

Silence.

"You’re horrible, a terrible husband. The world’s worst husband."

He continues walking as if I haven’t said a word.

I drum my fists against his back again.

But I get nothing. Not even a grunt.

I swear, this man is made of stone.

From my upside-down position, I can see Isabella and Victoria following behind us.

Their legs appear and disappear between the people as we make our way through the crowd.

I hear Isabella laughing.

Traitor.

"Don’t laugh!" I yell.

That only makes her laugh harder.

"I hate you!"

"You love me!" she shouts back.

"I’ve changed my mind!"

Victoria is laughing too.

"You’re never letting me drink again, are you?" I call.

"Nope!"

"Good!"

I pause.

"Wait..."

I think about that.

"That’s not good."

More laughter.

I roll my eyes, or at least attempt to, because apparently even that is difficult when you’re hanging upside down and drunk as hell.

Then my eyes wander and unfortunately, they land on Lysander.

More specifically...His ass.

My drunken brain takes a second to appreciate the view.

Okay.

Damn.

I stare.

Those trousers should honestly be illegal.

I narrow my eyes.

Maybe if I grab his ass...

My hand moves slightly bt I hesitate.

Should I?

No. Probably not.

I move my hand again and just when I’m about to make a very questionable decision, Lysander suddenly stops.

Before I can react, he bends slightly and drops me back onto my feet.

My shoes hit the pavement but my head doesn’t quite catch up. For a second, the entire world tilts and I wobble.

My arms shoot out instinctively.

"Whoa..."

Lysander reaches toward me but I slap his hand away.

"I’m fine."

I’m not.

My knees nearly buckle and he catches my elbow anyway.

"I said I’m fine."

"You can barely stand."

"I can stand perfectly."

I straighten.

When the world spins I grab onto the side of the car.

"See?"

He says nothing.

Beside us sits a bright red Lamborghini, gleaming beneath the streetlights.

It looks ridiculously expensive.

He opens its passenger door and looks at me.

"Party’s over. Get in the car."

I purse my lips.

"No."

His jaw tightens. I can actually see the muscle move.

"You’ve had your fun. You’re done. Get in."

"I don’t want to."

"I have work to do, and I’d rather be there than here doing this with you."

I blink at him.

"Doing what?"

He gestures vaguely at me.

"This."

I look down at myself then back at him.

"What?"

"You’re drunk."

"No I’m not."

He stares and i stare back.

"I’m... festive."

His eyes close briefly.

I think he’s praying...Probably for patience or maybe for my death.

I can’t be sure.

My stomach suddenly twists and I freeze.

Uh uh. That’s not good.

I swallow. Trying to get rid of the weird feeling.

I take a slow breath, as my stomach rolls again.

"I said I’m not going anywhere with you, I’m not done here."

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I’m not doing this with you on the side of the street."

He points toward the open car.

"Get. In. The. Fucking. Car."

I shake my head.

"See, that’s your problem."

"What is?"

"You think marrying me..."

I pause, trying to gather my thoughts.

"...which, I am very against, in case anyone’s curious..."

"I’m not, actually."

I glare at him.

"Means that you own me."

His eyes roll.

"That’s not what...."

"Oh, no."

I point a finger at him.

"I think it is."

"Nerissa."

"No, listen. If you want some hot cartel chick with her tits falling out in your face who’ll say yes to everything you want....."

His expression goes completely blank but I continue anyway.

"Yes, Lysander."

I imitate a breathy voice.

"Whatever you want, Lysander."

He stares at me.

I point at myself.

"Well, sorry. That’s not me."

"I’ve noticed."

"I don’t say yes and I definitely don’t let men tell me what to do."

He gestures toward the car.

"Clearly."

I narrow my eyes.

"Don’t be sarcastic with me."

"I’m not."

"You are."

"Nerissa, get in the car."

"No."

"I’ll pick you up again."

My eyes widen.

"Oh, don’t you fucking dare."

He takes one step toward me and I immediately take one step backward.

"Don’t."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Then get in."

"But the thing is..."

I pause.

My thoughts are suddenly moving through thick syrup.

"The thing is..."

I squint at him.

"What was I saying?"

He sighs.

"I have no idea."

"No, I was making a point."

"You were."

"A very important point."

"I’m sure."

I put a hand against my stomach.

"But you don’t..."

I stop.

My face suddenly goes pale.

Oh. Fuck.

It happens before I can say jack.

God how many vodka cocktails I’ve consumed on an almost empty stomach come rushing back with absolutely no warning.

I barely have time to turn my head before everything comes out.

All over Lysander’s Shoes.

The streetlights reflect off the polished leather of his shoes and now they are definitely not polished anymore.

My stomach twists again as I throw up and heave all over his shoes again.

FOR THE SECOND TIME.

I look up at him when my stomach finally decides to be done. His face is unreadable.

Which is somehow worse than anger.

I open my mouth.

"Lysander..."

When his eyes slowly lifts his eyes to mine there’s so much anger and hate in them I have to swallow and try again.

"I..."

The world suddenly tilts, his face blurs, the lights smear into bright streaks as my knees go weak.

And the last thing I see is Lysander reaching toward me.

Then everything goes black.