Page 128 of The Bitter Words

I shift closer to Mateo. “You know, I’ve heard about your business.”

“Considering we’re sitting in one of the event centers I own, that doesn’t surprise me.” Mateo shrugs.

“This is your place?” I glance at Hunter. “Isn’t this your casino?”

“Yes, but The Beckett Brand owns restaurants, bars, and entertainment venues that are housed inside our establishments.” He gestures with a flick of his hand to Jax. “Jaxon has invested or consulted with both of us on various ventures we’ve been involved in.”

Some woman approaches Gia. “Gia, we need you for the press interviews now.”

“Of course.” She finishes her drink and stands to leave. “Livianna, will you be here when I get done, or do you want to come with me?”

“I’ll wait here.”I’m not leaving this group of men for the life of me.“Take your time. I promise I’ll behave.”

Jax squirms in his chair and clears his throat. His face is tight and red.

That’s a strange reaction. Before I can hook onto that thought, the staff person who came to get Gia notices Hunter.

“Perfect.” She places her palm on Hunter’s shoulder. “Would you please join us? We could get some pictures of you and Gia. You can promote Efron Lux.”

“I’d be happy to. After all, any press is good for business.”Hunter stands and peers down at Mateo. “Mateo, since this is your establishment, do you want a photo opportunity with the beautiful Gia Armstrong?”

“Of course I’d love that.” He stands.

They excuse themselves and leave Jax and me alone. A snap of the painful memory of his rejection of me the last time we were by ourselves flashes in my mind. I try to put it aside.

“I guess that means it’s just us.” Jax moves into Mateo’s space and lifts his glass to toast mine. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

“I’m not a child.” I straighten my back.

“Livianna, relax.” He places his drink down. “That’s a quote from a movie.”

“Likely story.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You didn’t seem to know very much about films or anything about the movie industry when you were talking to Gia earlier.”

“I don’t,” he admits. “It’s fromCasablanca. It’s a classic.”

To release the tension, I laugh. “That makes sense.”

Now it’s his turn to go rigid. “Are you trying to insinuate I’m old?”

“No.” I shift to face him straight on. “Why do you always bring up age?”

“I didn’t realize I did that.” He adjusts his chair so our knees are almost touching. “I forget how young you are sometimes.”

“Why does it matter?”

“It shouldn’t.”

“But for you, it does.” I tilt my head to study him, wondering what age has to do with our interactions.

He’s quiet for a moment, then a smile curls his lips. “Your company seems to be doing well. Tell me more about that.”

“It is.” My chest bubbles with excitement. “And that reminds me. I owe you a thank you.”

“Why?” He pulls back with his forehead furrowed. “I haven’t done anything to help you.”