How many of these morons does she have lined up? The dude at the game. Now this refined fucker who probably speaks four languages and listens to classical music.
Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m on my feet. My chair scrapes back loud, and people turn to look.
“Nate? Where are you going?” Camille blinks up at me, confused.
“Come with me,” I say, already moving. If I ditch the sponsor host, Jess will skin me. My voice is tight, and I don’t elaborate—how do you explain you’re about to crash another woman’s date when you’ve clearly lost your damn mind?
She hesitates, then grabs her clutch and follows, heels clicking as I weave through tables. My pulse is hammering, whiskey roaring in my blood. I don’t have a plan exactly. All I know is I can’t sit here and watch Eden with that man for one more second.
I reach their booth. Eden looks up. Her laugh dies instantly, her face snapping into an icy mask. Her date—Mr. Perfect—leans back with a practiced, unfazed smirk.
“Well,” I say, sarcasm dripping from every word, “what a surprise, Eden. How odd to run into you here.”
She tilts her head, smile razor sharp, eyebrow lifting.
“This is my friend Daniel,” she says, syrupy sweet. Then her eyes slide to Camille, and back to me. “And you, Magic Man? Here with company, or crashing other people’s dates for sport?”
The nickname slices clean through me. “Mind if we joinyou?” I don’t wait for an answer, already dragging two chairs over. Camille hesitates, then sits, bewildered. I don’t look at her. I’m locked on Eden. Bleeding and furious.
What I have to be angry about evades me.You stupid fucker. The thought barrels through and dissipates fast, drowned by misplaced wrath.
Eden crosses her arms, eyes blazing. “Nate, what are you doing?”
I flash a grin that’s all teeth. “Catching up. Hope we’re not interrupting anything?”
Daniel smiles, smooth as hell. “Not at all. The more, the merrier.”
His voice makes my hands itch. My pulse hammers, irrational and loud, and I don’t even know what my endgame is. I just know one thing: there’s no way I’m letting this guy put his hands on my girl.
You’re a madman, I catch my crazy thoughts. Still, I carry on undeterred.
“So,” I say, picking up a menu I have no intention of reading. “Nice place you picked.”
Daniel nods. “Great cocktails.”
“I bet you’d know all the best spots.” The words are a scrape.
Eden stiffens. “Nate, don’t.”
“What? I’m making conversation.” I turn back to Daniel, forcing a smile. “So, what do you do? You look like you have a very...lucrative job.”
He chuckles. “I work in hospitality, actually. It pays well. And you?”
“Hospitality,” I repeat, ignoring his question and tapping the table. “Fancy. Hotels? Travel? Luxury experiences?”
“You could say that.”
Camille nudges my leg under the table. “You’re being weird.”
“Just curious.” I press on, unable to stop. “You from around here, or do you just...pop into places?”
“It depends where I’m needed.”
That’s when I see it—a sleek W hotel key card on the table, half-covered by the drink menu. Daniel casually slides his hand over it. But it’s too late. My jaw tightens, heat pounding in my ears.
“Needed,” I repeat, voice dropping. “Like...here? Tonight?”
Eden’s had enough. “Nate. Cut it out.” She’s leaning forward now, blue fire blazing in her eyes. “This isn’t your business.”
