"Her name is Belle." My voice cut through the space like a blade. "Use it."
Silence.
Then Hades whistled low. "Well, shit."
James sat up slowly, swaying slightly. "You're in love with her."
"I'm not?—"
"You are." He pointed at me with the bottle. "I know what that looks like. You're drowning, brother."
My phone buzzed.
I pulled it out so fast I nearly dropped it.
Not Belle. Just a notification. Meaningless.
But the relief I'd felt for half a second—followed by the crushing disappointment—told me everything I'd been trying to deny.
James was right.
I was drowning.
My phone rang.
Belle's name flashed across the screen.
I answered before the second ring. "Belle."
"Gideon, don't come?—"
A man's voice cut through. Rough. Smug. Wrong.
"Since your little whore of a girlfriend can't figure the fuck out how to fucking follow orders?—"
Ice flooded my veins. My hand crushed the phone so hard the case cracked. "Who the fuck are you?"
Laughter. Dark. Confident. The kind that came from men who thought they held all the cards.
"I'm about to break your girlfriend's pretty fingers so she can't grab your dick anymore if you don't?—"
"Where are you?"
The question came out dead calm. Lethal.
Behind me, the room had gone silent. Every man watching. Waiting.
"The bookstore." He paused, letting it sink in. "But you better hurry. My colleague wants to know what she tastes like."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
One second.
Two.
Then I moved.
