My phone dings.
“Really,” Roman chuckles. “I just texted it to you.”
This is a bad idea.
Reallybad.
I know that. But there’s another part of me that is shrugging nonchalantly on the inside as I hug Ethan and walk into the restaurant with him.
So what if I want to have dinner with an old friend? Someone who might even be doing business with my family?
That’s all this is: a catchup.
I scowl to myself as Ethan pulls out my chair in the private dining room of Trasimeno. Why am I justifying this as if I’m presenting to a grand jury? I’m not doing anything wrong.
He’smade that perfectly clear.
Vaughn isn’t my boyfriend. We’re not a “we”. We just…have sex a lot.
Really good,reallyrough sex.
Beyond that, I’m simply a potential pledge to his organization.
No more.
Again, he’s made that abundantly clear.
Also, I’m not doing anything wrong by having dinner with Ethan. I’m notcheatingon anyone. There’s nothing remotely romantic about this dinner aside from the ancient history that Ethan and I very briefly dated.
I wasn’t really interested in him then, and I’m certainly not now. He’s cute and charming enough, but…no. And besides, even if Iwasinterested in pursuing something with him again, it’s not even on the table. Ethan filled me in on his fiancée—who soundslovely—when we caught up earlier on the phone.
Ugh, why the hell do I still feel like I need to defend this?
“So,” Ethan smiles after our waiter pours some wine and then discreetly exits. “I sort of indirectly asked earlier, but you danced around the answer.”
I smile curiously as I lift my glass to his in a toast. “Indirectly asked what?”
Ethan chuckles. “If you were seeing anyone.”
Guilt stabs into me. Ihatethat it does.
“No,” I shake my head.
I'm just violently fucking someone on demand, entirely on his schedule. And yes, I’m aware how pathetic that sounds.
I laugh lightly. “Nope, nothing serious. Not likeyou!” I gush. “Tell me more about this fiancée!”
Ethan beams. “Evelyn.” Then he makes a face. “I know, it sounds like I’m being weird and looking for another Evie. I swear, I'm not.”
We both laugh, and Ethan shakes his head as he takes a sip of his wine.
“She goes by Linny for short.” He shrugs. “She’s British. It’s a thing over there.”
I smile across the table. “How’d you guys meet?”
He chuckles. “Work, actually. She’s in private equity…” He sighs. “At Ironclad Holdings, actually…Gavan Tsarenko’s firm, which I’m betting your brother isprobablygoing to end up going with?”
I make a pained face. “I…”
