“No, she didn’t.” My talk with Harley resulted in me being frustrated as hell and I’m pretty certain it was written all over my face. No wonder she didn’t drop that bomb.
“Well, you and your ex-stepson will have to share the same playground for the rest of the evening.” He scoffs. “That should be interesting.”
Fuck.“Devlyn usually attends this event. What the hell is her privileged brat doing here?”
“While I was waiting for you to make your appearance, I was chatting with two of our former teammates and their wives. One of them mentioned that the internet vilified your ex-wife for complaining about having it rough right after stepping out of an expensive vegan restaurant most will never be able to afford. Rumor has it Devlyn decided to keep a low profile and sent her spawn to attend in her place.”
“Speaking of the little shit, where is he?”
“I haven’t seen him since Harley and I spotted him as he was about to walk the red carpet.”
“As long as he keeps his distance, I won’t have to deck him.”
Erik chuckles. “I feel the love.”
“With a little luck, this evening won’t be his speed, and he’s already left.”
“It would be his MO.”
I scan the room in an attempt to spot Chett.
“From the little I know about her, Harley is the perfect candidate,” Erik says.
I divert my attention to him. “What?”
“I was too far away to hear the questions the reporters were throwing at you, but I didn’t miss the way you smiled at yourgirlfriend?—”
“I didn’t smile.”
“Yes, you did. Saw it with my own two eyes.”
I shoot him an unimpressed stare. “What are we, twelve?”
“At first, I thought it was a mirage, but judging from the stunned expressions from the reporters and photographers, I know I wasn’t the only one who witnessed that miracle.”
“Manning two businesses isn’t enough for you? You have time to be a fucking poet?”
“Keep lying to yourself, Romeo.”
Chapter 22
Speaking of puck bunnies
Harley
Istroll around, taking in the grandeur of The Hudson Lounge.
I needed to distance myself from the force of nature that is Kazimir Lindström more than I needed a bathroom break.
I twist my lips to the side, guilt resurging.
I shouldn’t have snapped at him after walking the red carpet, but his‘my girl’comment threw me off. I’ve never been any man’s girl. I’ve been a booty call, a hookup, a fling, a good time, and a friend with benefits. The few men I’ve been with who said they were interested in dating, omitted to be forthcoming about the fact they were interested in dating more than one woman at the same time.
Lowlifes.
I head towards the floor-to-ceiling windows adjacent to the glass door leading to the waterfront-facing outdoor terrace. Even if it wasn’t this late in the day and I wanted to catch a peek of the infamous 360 degree sweeping view, it would be impossible to see the Hudson River considering how packed the deck is. Well-to-do gala attendees are toasting one another, laughing, engaged in animated conversation––all looking like they belong. Unlike me.
I bet the view is something else.
