I cinch my brows. I met her earlier, when we first walked in and Callum welcomed us. “You meanMailey?” I say. She didn’t even bother correcting him. Women really do lose all self-control at the feet of Lucca Cruz.
But Lucca holds his gaze on Mel—err, Mark. “She’s lovely,” he says, flicking a glance my way.
How lovely can she be? He can’t even get her name right.
“You shouldreallyget to know her,” he tells Mark. “She’s probably perfect for you.”
Mailey smiles.
“Isn’t she your date?” I say. This man is utterly confusing.
Stella, at my right, groans. “Oh boy.”
Across from us, Rosalie hasn’t missed a word. “Let me guess, you met her yesterday?”
Mailey giggles. “At the grocery store.”
“You said you had a date three days ago,” I say.
Lucca gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Mitch, you really should chat with Mailey. I think it could be lucrative for both of you.”
“Lucrative?” Mark says. He blinks, giving me one bemused glance.
I puff out my cheeks and shrug. It’s a silent action that says,I have no idea what’s happening.
“Lucca,” Stella grunts. “Stop.”
“I’m helping,” Lucca says. “It’s not as if this”—he points from me to Mark—“is going anywhere.”
I scoff and push myself back from the table. But I get to my feet too quickly, and my knees knock into the table as I go. “Excuse me a minute.” I look down at Mark. “Are you okay to stay?”
“I am very entertained. Take your time.”
I swallow, my pulse racing and my heart pattering. I just need to think. To breathe. I head back down the same hall from before, the only quiet space in this full house, and charge straight for the bathroom.
I wasn’t sure about coming to another event where Red Tails would be present. I like Fran and her friends—but I’ve been unsure if it’s a wise work choice. Lucca is making it clear that I should have stayed home.
I push the door open and step inside the small half bath—just a toilet and a sink, and not another soul in sight.Alone.
Or at least, I hoped to be. As I swing the door shut, a shoe plants itself right in the doorjamb, blocking the door from closing. I scan up to dark jeans, a tan button-up, and Lucca’s jaw, lips, nose, and eyes. My stomach flips, and I breathe in musk and man.
I clench my jaw. “What are you doing?”
“You ran off,” he says, stepping toward me and forcing me back. He shuts the door behind him. It’s tight in this half bath—Lucca isn’t a small man. The back of my legs press against the bowl of the toilet, and Lucca might as well be sitting on the sink.
“Yeah, well, I needed a minute away from your craziness.”
“I was being polite to yourfriend.”
“Mydate.” I shake my head, wishing there was room to pace in here. “You were introducing my date to your date andtelling them together they might be lucrative? What does that even mean? Do you hear yourself?”
“So? It was polite.”
“It was the exact opposite of polite!” I cross my arms and attempt to back up, but there isn’t anywhere for me to go. I am exactly three inches away from Lucca, with nowhere to run. “Is this how it’s going to be? I thought we were past all the hate.”
“Hate?” He has the nerve to look truly taken aback. He inches toward me. He’s now one inch away, and my neck is craning to peer up at him. “What do you mean, hate?”
“I mean”—I attempt to lean back, but my legs are locked up against this toilet—“you coming here and treating my date like trash for no good reason.”
