But when I studied him, his face contained nothing but genuine encouragement. This wasn’t a subtle dig; this was his way of returning the olive branch I’d offered with the charity invite (even if that branch had been tied to my selfish reason of needing a substitute player).
Rejecting it out of hand would be rejecting his peace offering, but I sure as hell didn’t want to dance with a random woman in a pub.
“I don’t feel like dancing,” I said lightly. “You should talk to her instead.”
“I’m not the one she’s eye fucking. C’mon.” Vincent grinned. “Let’s liven things up a bit. Brooklyn and I will join you guys.”
“Excuse me.” Brooklyn crossed her arms. “How did
I get dragged into this?”
“No, really.” I deliberately avoided looking at Scarlett again. “I’m not in the mood to chat someone up.”
“Don’t mess with me. When are you not in the mood to chat a hot girl up?” Vincent lifted his brow. “Do you have a secret girlfriend or something?”
Scarlett choked on her drink for the second time that day. “Sorry,” she gasped. “My beer went down the wrong pipe.”
Smooth, darling. Very smooth.
“What is up with you?” Vincent grabbed a napkin from the stack next to him and handed one to her. “You’ve been acting weird all night.”
She mumbled an incoherent reply.
He’d hit the nail a little too close to the head with the “secret girlfriend” comment. I had to nip his suspicion in the bud before he thought too hard about why I’d been so protective over Scarlett earlier and why she was so antsy around me.
“You know what? You’re right.” I stood. “It’s a celebration. Let’s dance.”
The music from the jukebox changed to a more upbeat song. I forced myself to approach the brunette, whose friends erupted into giggles when I introduced myself.
I chatted with them for a bit, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually dance with her. Hopefully, the flirting was enough to throw Vincent off our scent.
I snuck a peek at him about five minutes into the conversation. He’d sandwiched himself between Brooklyn and Carina on the dance floor and wasn’t paying me an ounce of attention.
Thank God.
My gaze traveled further across the pub until it landed on Scarlett, who watched me from the bar.
“Do you want to get out of here?” The brunette touched my arm. “My flat isn’t far.”
Scarlett’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly glanced away.
I wished I remembered the brunette’s name. I didn’t, but I did let her down gently before I extricated myself from her disappointed clique.
I came up behind Scarlett, who didn’t turn around even when I grazed my hand over her lower back. A thick crowd separated us from the dance floor and blocked Vincent’s direct view of us.
“Done talking to the Megan Fox clone?” she asked without looking at me.
“It would appear so.” I came up next to her and suppressed a smile at the sight of her adorable pout. “Jealous?”
“No. Why would I be jealous?”
“Exactly. There’s no reason to be jealous, darling. I was only talking to her because Vincent was getting suspicious. You’re the only one I want.” I touched her back again, her warmth searing through her shirt and into my skin. She was always so contained that a part of me relished in her jealousy. To know she cared and that she wanted me as much as I wanted her-it was intoxicating. “When we leave, I’ll show you exactly how much.”
“Sure.” Scarlett sounded indifferent, but I detected a trace of breathlessness when my palm slid from the small of her back to the curve of her waist. We were packed too tightly for anyone to notice what we were doing, and everyone was too drunk to care anyway. “Will you flirt with me as much as you did with her?”
“If you want.” I lowered my head, my voice dipping into a murmur. “But what I really plan to do is strip you naked, lay you down on your bed, and tongue fuck you until you forget your own name.”
Scarlett’s breath stuttered to a brief halt.
“And once I’ve made you come all over my face…” I tightened my grip around her waist. “I’m going to pound my cock into your sweet little pussy and make you scream in that pretty way I love so much.”
Her fingers curled around the edge of the bar. The blush decorating her face and chest was so intense I could practically feel the heat pouring off of it.
I straightened and spoke at my normal volume again. “Hey, Mac. Can we get some more food?” I flagged down the scowling owner before I glanced at Scarlett. My mouth curled into a small grin. “What are you in the mood for? Another burger or fish and chips?”
She made a strangled noise.
I swallowed the laugh rumbling up my throat. “I’ll say fish and chips. Two, please. Thanks, Mac.”
“You’re diabolical,” she said when he left. “You can’t say stuff like that and then pretend nothing happened!”
“Trust me. I know it happened.” My steel-hard erection was proof of that. Thank God I was standing at the bar, or I’d have some explaining to do. Hopefully, we could leave soon without making our intentions obvious. We’d stayed long enough. “I’m also serious. I don’t make promises I don’t keep.” Dark velvet touched my words.
Scarlett blushed again right as Vincent popped up out of fucking nowhere.
He took one look at her and frowned. “Why are you so red?” he asked. “Did you drink tequila again? Because you know you can’t handle that type of alcohol. Don’t think I forgot about the time you threw up over my brand-new Nintendo because you took one too many Jose Cuervo shots.”
“No,” she squeaked. “It’s not tequila. It’s just, um, really hot in here.”
I coughed out a laugh, and she kicked me under the bar. Hard.
“Okay, whatever.” Drunk Vincent didn’t question my proximity to his sister the way Sober Vincent would’ve. He barely glanced at me as he grabbed another pint from Mac. “Acting weird all night,” he muttered on his way back to the dance floor.
Scarlett and I exchanged glances.
We had to tell Vincent about us soon, but I allowed myself to enjoy the night for what it was: a celebration with friends (and a new frenemy) after a hard-earned win.
The day had been a mess almost from the start, but I couldn’t deny that this was one of the best nights I’d had in a while.
It was normal, Scarlett was with me, and that was all I needed.
SCARLETT
If someone told me at the beginning of the summer that Asher and Vincent would spend a night drinking and hanging out together peacefully, I would’ve asked what they were smoking. The idea was absurd.
However, their brief truce on Saturday gave me hope that they could not only tolerate each other, but that they might actually be friends. They just had to set aside their pride and admit their rivalry was played out. At this point, they were holding on to their grudges for ego.
I didn’t say any of that to them. They had to figure it out themselves.
Vincent returned to Paris that morning to wrap up his affairs, but he’d be back next Monday. That meant Asher and I had one week left to enjoy our alone time together-or so I thought.
“I have some news,” Asher said, his face unusually somber as finished up practice.
I’d run through the first half of
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.