“What are you doin’ here?”
She nods to Maxie and Marisol. “Having a drink with my girls. Is there something wrong with that?”
“And flirting with one of our prospects.”
“Is that against some kind of Royal Bastards’ code?” she asks, her voice sugary-sweet.
“And before you answer that,” Marisol interjects, “Martina just became a member of the Royal Harlots.”
I suck in a deep breath. “The prospect should’ve been doin’ his job, not trying to pick you up while ignoring his other customers.”
“I made sure there was enough coverage at the bar, so Jared could make us his only customers,” Marisol said. “Kind of likeour own personal bartender for the night, until you started throwing your power around and ruining our fun.”
I’ve had enough of this back-and-forth bullshit. I know what I want, and I need to find out if Martina wants the same thing.
I lean into her ear, and a heavy hand hits my shoulder. I turn and face Blood directly behind me.
“He’s here. Time for business.”
Shit, of all the lousy luck. Leave it to that asshole Eduardo to cock-block me.
I straighten, then point my finger at Martina. “Don’t move.”
“Is that an order?” Martina asks.
I narrow my eyes. “Damn straight.”
I hear Marisol and Maxie laughing behind me, but I keep following Blood down the back hall toward the meeting room.
MARTINA
My phone buzzes as Marisol and Maxie laugh at Diesel’s actions.
“Oh my God, did he actually give you an order?”
I pull out the phone and read the message.
EDUARDO: I’m at the Tropics. Text you when I’m done.
I grip the phone tighter than necessary. My passport will be in my hands tonight.
“Everything all right?” Maxie looks at the phone, then back at me.
“Just those stupid spam messages.”
Even though it’s only been a few weeks, leaving these girls will be hard.
Maxie shakes her head. “I don’t know what got up Diesel’s ass. It’s not like he has any claim on you.”
I shove the phone back in my purse. “Claim on me?” I certainly didn’t like the sound of that. “What does that mean?”
“She means, it’s not like you and him have a thing,” Marisol tries to clarify. “I mean, you guys haven’t . . . or have you?”
“No, no, nothing even close.” Heat circles my neck, and I take a big gulp of my margarita. “I mean, that first night after I went up on stage, he took me into the private rooms, but he got interrupted, and nothing happened.”
“But later on, you stayed for the party, and you and him were getting pretty close on the couches.” Maxie waggles her eyebrows. “Looked like something was about to happen when you guys left.”
“We went up to his room, and I freaked out a bit and ended up sleeping on his couch.”
