David’s eyes narrow slightly as he takes in Forge’s impressive height and the way he’s positioned himself protectively beside me. “Right. Well, I suppose everyone deserves a… rebound fling.”
The deliberate pause beforerebound flingis pure condescension, and my temper flares. But before I can fire back, Forge speaks up.
“Actually, I’m the lucky one here,” he says conversationally. “Not every man gets to be with someone who’s brilliant, dedicated,and beautiful enough to stop traffic. Though I suppose you’d know something about that, wouldn’t you?”
The comment is delivered with such casual confidence that it takes David a moment to realize he’s been expertly insulted. By the time he does, Forge has already turned back to me with a warm smile.
“I think I saw some of your colleagues by the bar,” Forge says easily. “Shall we go say hello?”
As we walk away, leaving David standing alone, looking like he’s swallowed something unpleasant, I lean closer to Forge.
“That was masterfully done,” I murmur.
“He’s an ass,” Forge replies simply. “And he hurt you. I don’t like people who hurt the woman I love.”
The protective edge in his voice sends heat spiraling through me, and I have to resist the urge to drag him to the nearest coat closet and do scandalous things. I catch him taking a subtle, deep breath and realize he can probably scent my arousal even here in this crowded ballroom. The thought that his enhanced senses give him intimate knowledge of my body’s responses makes my cheeks burn… and my pulse quicken.
The next hour passes in a blur of introductions and conversations. I watch my colleagues’ initial skepticism transform into genuine respect as they realize he’s not just attractive arm candy, or an uneducated Other, but an intelligent male with his own expertise and insights.
“He’s wonderful,” whispers Jennifer, one of the junior partners, when Forge steps away to get us drinks. “Where did you find him?”
“Speed dating,” I say without thinking, then laugh at her shocked expression. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, whatever the story is, hold on to that one,” Jennifer advises. “He looks at you like you hung the moon.”
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes in my clutch. I pull it out to see a call from Jennifer Morrison, my client whose custody trial is only four days away.
For a moment, I freeze. This is it. The test. Do I take the call and risk ruining the evening, or do I ignore it and potentially fail a client who needs me?
Then I remember what Forge and I discussed. Systems, not desperate, knee-jerk responses.
“Excuse me for a second,” I murmur, holding up my phone in explanation. I step toward a quieter corner, and Forge gives me a knowing smile before turning back to the bar.
“Jennifer? Is everything okay?”
“Jordan, I’m so sorry to call on a Friday night, but my ex-husband just showed up demanding to see Allison even though it’s not his weekend. He’s threatening to call the police if I don’t let him in.”
My mind immediately shifts into lawyer mode. This is a serious situation that, if not handled properly, could affect our custody arrangement.
“Okay, first things first—do not let him in. He doesn’t have legal grounds to demand unscheduled visitation. Are you somewhere safe?”
“Yes, Allison and I are locked inside. But he’s making a scene in front of the neighbors.”
“Call the police and report that he’s trespassing and violating your custody agreement. I’ll send you the documentation number for our filing so you can reference it. You must be terrified, but if it’s any consolation, this actually helps our case.”
I spend five more minutes walking her through exactly what to do and assuring her that his behavior tonight will only strengthen our position at the next hearing. When I hang up, I take a deep breath and turn back toward the party.
Forge is standing a few feet away, two champagne glasses in his hands and a patient expression on his face. He’s clearly been waiting for me to finish, not hovering or looking impatient, just… there.
“Everything okay?” he asks, offering me a glass.
“Client emergency, but handled,” I say, accepting the champagne. “Thank you for waiting.”
“Of course.” His eyes search my face. “You look proud of yourself.”
“Do I?” I take a sip of champagne, considering. “I guess I am. A year ago, I would have left the party to deal with that in person. Even a few weeks ago, I would have spent twenty minutes on that call. Tonight, I gave her exactly what she needed without abandoning my personal life.”
“Systems that provide easier choices,” he says softly, and his proud smile makes my chest tight with emotion.
