As long as she’s won him over.
Lena’s eyes spark, and I know she’s picked up the smell of victory.
“Alec. I hope we’ll see each other again soon.”
“We will,” he promises, and we’re off.
We’re silent as we cut through the thick crowd, my hold on her arm guiding her.
“Why does it always feel like the women are glaring at me more than the men?” she whispers.
In the corner, I see another problem—Nancy goddamned Loomer, glowering at Lena like she’s convinced a dirty look can reduce her to ashes.
“She’s jealous,” I growl. “Can’t handle how good you look with a fraction of the effort.”
“Oh yeah, but I wasn’t just talking about Miss Lemonface.”
I shrug. “Like I’ve said before, money causes an inbred bunch. Half the women here under thirty-five probably hoped to get their hands on me.”
She throws me a look.
“It’s not like I gave it to them.” I clear my throat. “Shit, Sass. Even when the world thought I fucked everything that moves, I was careful not to risk business and pleasure.”
I’m not sure she believes me, despite the smile.
I know I’m an attractive guy, especially when I make an effort, but I’m also not blind. People like me because of my name and the wealth behind it.
That’s what sets the woman on my arm apart—if anything, the fact that I’m a Pruitt and have money coming out my ears feels more like a black mark than a blessing.
Considering that, along with my history, she’s right to be suspicious.
If she still wants to take my head off for hiding my phone later, she’s entitled to. Especially when Iamgoing behind her back, just not for the reasons she thinks.
Lena tilts her head back, smiling. “Be honest. How many women here have you slept with?”
My eyes scan the crowd. Once in a while, an old hookup marries up and poaches a CEO.
“Not fair. You know my reputation.”
“Even if I wish I didn’t,” she throws back, but she’s still smiling. “Kidding, Brady. Let’s prove we’re madly in love, just to be safe.”
Once we reach Brian’s side, Lena’s smile shifts to the diplomatic one she uses with strangers.
We do our introductions.
“Just wait until you hear about his pet food,” she tells Millstable, resting a hand on my chest and giving me the biggest damn doe eyes I’ve ever seen. “It’s going to make a huge difference in health. You’d be surprised how many owners want to feed their babies the best, but they just can’t with the cost and the crappy shelf life of the fresh stuff.”
His glasses almost shine like mirrors catching the sun—or maybe it’s his eyes. Brian Millstable is one of those human androids who lives for new opportunities. Not human.
Batteries between the ears, I call them.
He patiently listens as she rattles off the preventable horrors she’s seen with older pets and mediocre food—the joint issues, the early heart disease, the obesity.
I talk up my experiments—hating that we’re stuck in the formula stage—but Brian listens patiently, his face an impassive smile.
Like I said,not human.
I’m not nervous, though. Not with Lena making this so easy. If we weren’t talking to a potential VIP supplier, I’d kiss her breathless.
