She laughs, heady and balmy against my skin. “I’m okay with that.”
“Uh-uh, nice try. Come on.” I step back with a grin. “Let’s shower. But you’ll have to behave yourself, Ms. Cassidy. Keep those hands to yourself.”
Her laughter bubbles past her lips, light and melodic. “Right.Ihave to behave? That’s rich.” Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “You’re on, mister. You so much as touch me, and I get to order for you tonight.”
I groan, already knowing this is a terrible idea, yet unable to resist her. “Deal.”
And, of course, I lose. Or maybe not—it depends on how I look at it. There’s no way I can keep my hands off her—naked, wet, and looking like every damn thing I’ve ever wanted.
Before we even make it out the door, there is no doubt in my mind. Dinner is a lost cause.
20
SAM
At dinner with Daniel and Yasmine Thibault, Olivia makes good on her threat to order for me.
When the server appears, she doesn’t hesitate. “He’ll have the steak frites.” Her smile is bright, and confident. “Medium rare.”
Daniel chuckles approvingly. Yasmine’s expression barely moves, though her eyes flick down to where Olivia’s hand rests on mine. It’s a small thing, but the possessiveness in that look doesn’t go unnoticed. Olivia catches it too—her smile turning a touch smug, the kind of quiet satisfaction that says she’s perfectly fine staking her claim.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy watching it.
Dinner moves along smoothly enough. Daniel’s talking business, Yasmine’s doing her best impression of polite disinterest, and Olivia’s the picture of calm confidence beside me—until Daniel suggests I see the restaurant’s wine cellar.
“I’ll just be a few minutes.” I glance at Olivia, who gives me a small nod. I can tell she’s not thrilled about being left alone with Yasmine. Neither am I, but Daniel’s insistent, and I can’t exactly refuse without it looking strange.
Yasmine’s quick to help her father make the separation, flashing that too-sweet smile that never quite lights her features.
The conversation downstairs is harmless. Daniel wants to talk expansion potential, investor structure—standard stuff. We’re done in under fifteen minutes, which makes it even clearer that Yasmine engineered the whole setup.
When I get back to the table, Olivia’s quiet. Yasmine, however, is all smiles—too much so. “Sam.” She holds up my phone. “I think this is yours.”
I freeze mid-step. My phone sits in her hand, screen dark, and for half a second I don’t understand what I’m looking at. Then she keeps talking.
“I’ve no idea how it ended up in my luggage,” she continues breezily, “but I found it when I unpacked from our Vancouver trip.”
Her tone is casual, but the implication isn’t. My jaw tightens. Olivia stiffens beside me and reaches for her purse. Act fast and set things straight.
I take the phone, keeping my voice level but firm. “That’s strange.” I meet Yasmine’s smug stare. “I had it at the airport. And since I was never in your room, I’m not sure how it could’ve ended up in your things.”
Mildly confused, Daniel studies each of us as if trying to solve a puzzle. Surely he must see his daughter, know what she is capable of.
Olivia looks ready to bolt, and Yasmine… She simply laughs—a high, false grating noise.
“I’ve no clue.” She shrugs it off with practiced ease. “Anyway, I’m glad I could return it.” Yasmine pushes back her chair and stands. “Please excuse me.”
She’s gone before anyone can respond, her perfume lingering like thick smoke in the air.
Silence fills her absence, heavy and awkward. Olivia studies me, expressionless, and I can’t tell if she’s angry, hurt, or couldn’t give a shit, though I highly doubt the latter is the case. Daniel stands awkwardly at the edge of the table, and when the server comes with our bill, he mumbles something about paying at the bar.
Purse in hand, countenance unreadable, Olivia slides her chair out from the name.
“Olivia—” I start, but she shakes her head, eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder.
“Don’t. Not here.” And just like that, she walks out, the click of her heels echoing long after she’s gone.
I grip my phone tight enough that my knuckles ache. Yasmine wanted a scene. She got one. But this time, I’m not letting her win.
