Raine POV
I ignore the curious looks as I sit on the barstool, sucking down shot after shot as though my life depends on it. My makeup is smeared, my dress is torn, my shoes are now somewhere back in the car I used to hitchhike a ride to this depressing pub and I look like some sort of tragic bride left at the altar. I almost snort with laughter. I am a bride but I am the one who left the groom at the altar. I feel some sort of satisfaction in that. No doubt Edgar Rosethorn and my bastard family are panicking over the loss of what had essentially been a monetary transaction to them all. I didn't care. I shot back another shot, relishing the taste of the vodka as it slightly burned the inside of my throat as it trickled down.
"Care for some company?" the voice is highly amused.
I open
