“What?” She frowned. “You can’t be upset. You keep turning him down.”
“I’m concerned,” Olivia countered. “How would you like it if he grabbed your crotch?”
“Oh God, yes, pleeeeeeease.”
Connor laughed. “Okay, time you went back to the hotel, Chloe. Come on.”
He held out his hand and she grabbed it, wobbling on her feet like a newborn foal. To his surprise, when he’d weaved his way through the crowds and into the night air, Olivia was behind him.
“FYI, I’m coming with you for protection,” she stated. “Not to jump into bed with you.”
“Who are you protecting, her or me?” he asked, not sure whether to be amused or insulted.
She exhaled, shaking her head. “You.”
It was the second time he’d walked back to the hotel with Olivia tonight. Both times he’d had a chaperone, though at least Jessica hadn’t needed to be supported. And hadn’t kept mumbling that she wanted to hurl. “I feel I should make a smart remark about not needing to be rescued,” he remarked. “But better to be safe than sorry, so thanks.”
“Just returning the favor.”
He glanced sideways at her. “You told me you didn’t need rescuing.”
“I didn’t.” She gave him a level look. “But it was nice to have someone look out for me.”
He was about to ask her to expand on the statement when Chloe crouched over and let out a violent heave, splattering his trousers, his shoes, and the pavement in front of them.
Great. Maybe he should have spent the evening sharpening his knives and organizing his workstation. At least then Felix would have been pleased with him. Instead he had blue balls, vomit-covered shoes, and a sinking feeling he’d gone backward in Olivia’s estimation. A guy who’d forced her to dance, couldn’t control his dick, and was a magnet for drunk women.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Chloe looked about as miserable as he felt.
“Don’t sweat it.” He picked up the edge of his T-shirt and wiped away the droplets of sick from around her mouth. “Let’s just get you back to your room, yeah?”
“Here, I’ve got you.” Olivia wrapped her arm around Chloe’s waist, supporting her, and the three of them walked the rest of the way to the hotel in silence.
Once in the hotel reception, Olivia pressed for the lift. “I’ll take Chloe from here. Thanks for the”—she looked around her and mock-whispered—“escort service.”
He mustered a smile. “Anytime.” The lift arrived and a very subdued Chloe walked into it. Olivia hesitated and glanced up at him. “Don’t tell me no, not tonight,” he said, preventing her from saying whatever she’d been about to say. “Have pity on a vomit-splattered man.”
“I was actually going to thank you for being kind to Chloe.” Her expression looked troubled. “She’s been Sophie’s friend for a long time and I’ve never seen her like this.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He exhaled heavily, letting out some of his frustration. “She’s on a hen party. She’s entitled to let go and get roaring drunk at least once. You all are.” Figuring he’d said enough, he nodded over to the girl in the lift. “Night, Chloe.” She gave him a weak smile.
He watched as Olivia went to join her. “Night, Livvy.”
Olivia’s eyes remained on his until the lift doors closed.
Not for the first time since he’d met her, he wished he could work out what she was thinking.
Chapter 8
It was a quiet bridal party that sat down to breakfast the following morning. Tired, hungover, and, in Chloe’s case, mortified.
“I can’t believe I chucked up all over Connor.” She groaned.
“That was nothing. You were a second away from grabbing his dick,” Nicole informed her, which elicited another groan from Chloe and a round of giggles from everyone else.
“I heard you told Chloe off,” Jessica remarked, drawing Olivia’s attention to her left. “Defended your territory like an irate lioness.”
Ruddy hell. “Who said that?”
