“Need another?” he asks.
“You do realize this is an open bar,” I point out.
“I do. But asking if you want a drink is a good way to start a conversation.”
I smile. The bartender sets another glass in front of me.
As I take a sip, the man smiles at me. But when I look over at Ransome, his eyes are locked on me too.
And he is very much not smiling.
35
RANSOME
“Dear,” Jenica says warningly.
But I barely fucking hear her.
Because there’s a man at the bar with Amara, and he’ssmiling at her.
He is dead. So fucking dead.
I stand from the table and yank my arm out of Jenica’s grip. Whispers lift, but I don’t care about whatever gossip this is going to start. All I care about is ending whatever the hell is going on over there, where the woman I actually care about is.
“Sit back down, darling.” Jenica tugs on my sleeve and gives me the tightest smile her Botoxed face is capable of. “Now is not the time to?—”
I ignore her and stride towards the bar.
“Mr. Rozanov.” The man in the cheap blue suit stands, straightening up his jacket. “It’s an honor to?—”
“Beat it,” I snarl at him. “Now.”
He hesitates for a second—which tells me he’s not one of mine, because my people know never to make me wait—and then hastily grabs his drink and disappears.
Good riddance.
I take his seat and bark “An old fashioned and a gin and tonic” at the bartender, who quickly gets to work making them.
The second he’s gone, I speak. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I’m not looking at Amara. I’m not so stupid as to make it that obvious what I’m here for. Plausible deniability is everything in my world. If I say I’m here to grab drinks for me and my wife, then those are the facts. End of story.
“Having a drink,” she answers without looking at me.
“You know what I’m talking about,” I snap under my breath. But when I let my eyes slice over to hers, Amara sips daintily on whatever green, salted rim concoction she ordered.
She’s playing dumb. And I’m not in the mood to play games at all, dumb or otherwise.
“I don’t believe I do.”
I bite my lips, because it’s the only thing I can do that won’t make me look like a monster right now. The worst part about it is she knows that. She knows damn well I have to remain calm. She also knows I am feeling anything but.
“You let another man buy you a drink,” I hiss. “In front of me.”
“And you let another woman kiss you,” Amara counters. “In front of me.”
After a long, stubborn moment, our eyes meet.
