He choked on his wine and laughed. “I wasn’t even thinking of that.”
Dinner past, the dances started, and my dad made his way around the room, chatting away to all of his friends, old and new.
My dad was my favourite person.
I didn’t want to hurt him.
Watching him laugh, watching how happy he’d become since his retirement, I had been ecstatic for him.
The thought of upsetting him by working with Imre made disappointment at myself pitch in my stomach.
And of all the places I thought I belonged, I always thought it was with him. I was a Daddy’s girl through and through. Even if we weren’t biologically related.
But now I felt like I didn’t even deserve to celebrate him.
Zolt tugged on my arm, and I blinked out my negative thoughts before following him.
“Are you okay?” he asked me, in one of the empty side rooms, still decked in framed photos of my dad from across the years. Mum had them commissioned so they would look medieval with harsh brush strokes. Zolt stood beside one that made him look like a sailor.
I looked into my dad’s serious expression before nodding.
He saw right through it, stroking my arms.“Are you?”
My deep exhale was broken. “Yes. I’m feeling a touch overwhelmed. But I’ll be fine.”
“Should I have stayed at my hotel? I can go back—”
“No,” I said, maybe a bit too eager. “No. Please stay. I like having you here.”
He brushed my cheek, hooked my chin, and drew my lips tohis.
But I couldn’t let it be a long kiss. A peck was all my racing, guilty heart could manage.
And it was a good thing, too, because then Jordan came in.
I was ninety percent sure he didn’t see. But he definitely noted how close we were standing together and how I jerked back.
“Hey, Jordan,” I said, my voice three times faster and three octaves higher than usual.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt— I just wanted to chat to Fia. It’s been so long since we spoke.”
It was odd to talk about me instead of to me, but when I looked at Zolt, it all made sense.
His chest was heaving, his eyes trained on Jordan, like a bull ready to charge.
“Of course,” I said, my voice the same as earlier. “This is Zoltán Farkas. My new placement means I’m translating for him for the rest of the championship.”
Jordan blinked at me, his brows lowering to suggest he didn’t quite buy it.
Because how could he?
“Jordan Thomas,” he said, and offered a hand to shake.
Zolt looked at it until I widened my eyes at him pointedly.
As soon as he took it, Jordan smiled, his shoulders relaxing. “Nice to meet you.”
When their hands went back, he shook out his fingers. Zolt and I were going to have a conversation about social etiquette. Whether it was my ex or not.
