“Bullshit. You’re looking for that Jasalie chick aren’t you? I saw her hanging with Harlow.”
So did I. That’s what worries me. Harlow’s not the kind of woman Jasalie would enjoy spending more than two seconds with.
“I’m not,” I lie. “Lay off, Dante.”
“I don’t like this,” he says to me. “You lovesick over some girl you just met. You know how many women come on to rich athletes? How do you know what her intentions are?”
I don’t. I don’t know anything about Jasalie, really. But she didn’t come on to me. I’ve been chasing her since we met. And I trust her. Yet I feel helpless because this can’t go anywhere permanent. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, though, because I sure as hell can’t seem to stop wanting her.
Chapter Fourteen
Jasalie
Bill tells me to walk around the room offering up drinks on a serving tray.
“Why?” I ask him. “How many times do I have to prove to you that I’m a terrible server? Plus, the bar’s right there!”
“Because I asked you to. Hal said he would appreciate some extra service tonight. So let’s give it to him.”
“Do we have to give the owner everything he wants?”
Bill glowers. “I’m not thrilled about the hand-holding, either,” he admits. “But we need this account. Elgin had me in a meeting this afternoon for nearly an hour—he says he wants this one more than he’s ever wanted anything.”
I exhale. “He really said that?”
“He really did. So go.” Bill shoos me away. “And hold the tray higher, Ms. Gordon!”
I lift the tray nearly to chin level and march forward.
“You’re Jasalie right?” I turn to see Dante Robinson.
I nod at him, wondering if he noticed his girlfriend talking to me. He comes closer and takes a drink off my tray.
“Cheers.” He holds his glass up to me and swallows about half of it in one swig.
When he takes it away from his mouth, he looks at me closely. His blue eyes are cloudier than I’d anticipated, almost like he’s on something. “You putting our boy on?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying, you better not be hitting Dylan up for nothing. Seriously, that’s my boy over there. He’s a great person—he deserves the same.”
I glare back at him. “I’m a great girl—I deserve the best, too.”
“You can’t do better than Dylan Wild.” He takes a step closer to me. “So if you like him, what are you messing with his head for?”
“I’m not messing with his head. Don’t butt in where you don’t understand.”
I turn to leave.
“I think I do understand,” Dante persists, following along next to me as I walk away. “I think I understand perfectly. You planned for this to just be a weekend thing, a good time for a couple of days with a world-famous athlete.”
I don’t trust Dante, and I’m assuming he knows nothing about Dylan’s charity issue or our business deal, so I keep walking.
But Dante keeps following me all the way to the bar. “You just don’t get it, do you?” he says. “He really cares about you. I’ve never seen him like this. Are you like some ice queen or something that you just can’t be bothered with feelings?”
I turn to him, and I come this close to slapping him across the face. My fear stops me. “Excuse me, Mr. Robinson,” I say instead, and I disappear into the kitchen.
I put the tray of drinks on the nearest countertop and lean back against the wall. My breaths come in short gasps, and I clasp my shaking hands together.
