"Until next time, Sabrina White."
I watch as he slips my business card in his back pocket.
"I doubt it," I grin, although I'm somewhat flattered that he's choosing to hold onto my information, even though he and I both know that there will be no next time. I mean he looks like he eats women for breakfast (literally) then sends them on their merry way with a pat on the ass and maybe a couple of bucks for an Uber car.
But I'm not going to lie. I purposefully walk towards the exit of the restaurant with a little sway in my step, just like the hostess did earlier, because I know that he's watching. Something tells me that he likes to watch. What the hell, right? I never do stuff like this, and I'll never see him again.
As I smooth my skirt down the sides of my hips and thighs, and carefully place one stiletto heel in front of the other, I can't help but look in the glass doors ahead of me. Just to make sure that stranger danger is still checking me out, and when I do, I catch his reflection.
His platinum pupils dancing.
Looking straight at me.
And his mouth grinning shamelessly at the view of my behind.
So I sway my hips a little harder. Then turn around and give him a small wave good-bye. One that I make sure Jason can't see. And it's at that moment that I see and feel what I've been waiting for all night, except it's from the stranger's eyes instead of Jason's.
Pure. Unadulterated. Heat.
Chapter Two
SAINT
Three Years Ago
Georgetown, Washington, D.C.
"You need to kill some time, Mike. She's not ready."
"She's not here yet?!"
"Naw, man. I think she's still at the hotel with the bridesmaids or something. No one's picking up their cell phones over there, but knowing her she's probably just running around driving everybody completely nuts."
"I knew I should've sent my mom over there. I swear to fucking God if she–"
"Calm down, best man. There's no way that girl is going to mess up her wedding day to Saint."
"You mean mess up her meal ticket."
"No shit talking today, Mike. You have to reel it in. This is your brother's future wife we're talking about. Just like you want respect for yours, you need to respect his choice."
"The hell you mean? There's no question about anyone respecting my wife. She's not some sleazy lounge singer looking for a benefactor, so that she won't have to get a real job."
"You know what I mean, Mike."
"All right. I guess the easiest solution is to get everybody drunk. Then no one will know just how fucking late the blushing bride really is. Including my brother."
"Good idea. I'll get the waiters to grab us some champagne."
Ten minutes later.
"Open the Dom! Does everybody have a glass? All right, all right. Listen up everyone. I just want to say a few words in a toast before our boy here walks down the aisle. Saint, you know you're one cocky son of a bitch. You always were. Even as a snot-nosed kid, you thought the sun rose and set specifically for your ass. Never thought I'd see the day that you'd get hitched. Especially this early in your career. But I guess there's no rhyme or reason to when we find our happily ever after. Sometimes we find her when we least expect it. So let's all raise our glasses to my little brother and his forever after – Adrianna."
"To Saint and Adrianna!!"
Fifteen more minutes later.
"Excuse me, Mr. Stevenson?"
