"Great. Then you won't mind when we spend three hours discussing whether Becca should text her ex back or analyzingevery word of some guy's dating app message." I tilt my head. "Or maybe we'll rate attractive men we see at the bar. Compare notes on who has the best ass. You really want to sit through that?"
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. His voice drops lower. "You planning on rating a lot of men's asses tonight, Elena?"
"Maybe." I lift my chin defiantly. "That's kind of what girls do on girls' night. Appreciate the scenery."
"Appreciate all you want." He leans in just slightly. "But I'll be right there making sure the scenery doesn't try to appreciate you back."
My mouth opens but nothing comes out. How does he keep winning these exchanges?
"Not up for debate," he says again. This time his tone makes it absolutely clear the conversation is over.
I huff out a breath and stalk toward my bedroom. He met every single one of my arguments and somehow made me feel like I lost ground instead of gaining it.
Fine. If he wants to watch me flirt with other men, I'll give him a show he won't forget.
A few hours later, Becca returns looking stunning in her usual barely-there outfit. Her petite, toned body always makes me feel self-conscious about my curves, but tonight I'm determined not to let it bother me.
Marco drives us to Mazzy's in complete silence. I expect him to follow us inside and hover over our table like some kind of bodyguard. But when we walk through the door, he surprises meby heading straight to the bar. He takes a seat at the far end with a clear view of the entire place and orders a drink.
He's... giving me space?
I glance back at him as Becca pulls me toward a high-top table. He catches my eye for just a second before deliberately looking away. Like he's making a point of not watching me too closely.
Huh.
"Earth to Elena." Becca waves her hand in front of my face. "You gonna tell me who the stud is or do I have to guess?"
I force my attention back to her. "I'll get us drinks first. What do you want?"
At the bar, I'm hyperaware of Marco sitting just a few seats down. He doesn't look at me. Doesn't acknowledge my presence at all. Just sips his whiskey and watches the room like he's here on his own business.
When I return with our drinks, Becca immediately launches into her interrogation.
"So. Who is he? And why haven't I heard about him? And how many times a day are you fucking him?"
"We're not—" I start.
"Because if you're not, can I?"
The question hits me wrong. A sharp spike of something possessive and territorial that I have absolutely no right to feel.
"He's a friend of my cousin's husband," I explain carefully. "He needed a place to stay temporarily."
"And the fucking?"
"No. We're not sleeping together."
"But you want to." It's not a question. Becca knows me too well.
"It doesn't matter what I want." I take a long sip of my drink. "It's complicated."
"Complicated how? He's single. You're single. You're both clearly attracted to each other based on the way you were looking at him earlier."
Was I that obvious?
"It's just... he's connected to my family. And there are reasons it wouldn't work." I'm being deliberately vague but Becca doesn't push.
"So I can sleep with him then?"
