He doesn’t reply again. He merely looks at me with that disgusting, wrinkled, smug face of his.
“Hey!” I snap my fingers in front of his face. “I asked you something, mister.”
He chuckles sinisterly. Then, apathetically, he takes out his phone and scrolls down on it, demonstrating how bored he already is. “In my day, beauty like yours came with a price. Your father’s a very reasonable man.”
I bang my hand on the table, causing the glasses to clink. “If you don’t tell me why the hell you called me here, I’m gonna leave right now.”
Slowly, he raises his eyes and looks at me over his phone screen. “I’m sure your pet doesn’t want to go now, does he?”
My eyes drift back to Adam. He’s … smiling at her. He’s actually smiling, like she’s the best thing he’s seen all night. She leans in, laughing at something he said, and her hand lands on his shoulder. And he lets it. He even leans a little closer.
Of course he likes her. Why wouldn’t he? She’s gorgeous, confident, built and sculpted just to be admired. And she knows exactly how to touch a man and make him like it. I’m sure she can please and pleasure him in ways I can’t.
I mean, how could a woman not like Adam? The tattoos hidden beneath his long sleeves give him a serious, almost untouchable edge at first glance. But the rings on his fingers and his slightly messy hair break through that control, clashing perfectly with the elegance of his tailored suit. He’s the perfect mix of a bad boy and a dangerous gentleman.
My stomach twists hard enough to make me dizzy. For a second, everything I told myself I needed him for just slips. None of it matters. Not his help, not the plan, not the fact that I can’t do this without him. All I feel is that sharp sting in my chest, and suddenlyIam the pathetic one standing alone, invisible in a crowd, watching him give someone else all the attention I’ve been begging for in silence.
What the hell is this feeling?
It hits me like a blade to the ribs. It’s jealousy, I guess. I’ve never felt it before, and now it’s eating through me so fast I can barely breathe.
Why is it so consuming? Why does it feel like someone else’s hand is already on what should be mine?
I have to leave—now.
A few minutes earlier
I’ll kill him. I’ll kill her, and I’ll kill Michael too.
Honestly, at this point, why the hell not?
That useless bastard took Anderson as a mission and what—just didn’t finish it? Did he get distracted? Take a nap? Stop halfway to admire the scenery? And now this clown thinks he can walk in and claimher?Mygirl.Myresponsibility.Mine.
If Michael had half a brain and had done his damn job, none of this would be happening. But no, no, no, he had to screw it up, and now I’m the one watching some idiot hover around what’s mine like he’s got a death wish.
And what is this bitch doing now? Flirting? Really?
Why the hell is she even touching me? I haven’t listened to a single word of her delirium. My brain shut the door the second she opened her mouth. She’s still talking like she thinks I’m actually interested.
Honestly, she’s lucky I have to behave forher.Another day and I’d have peeled that hand off me like gum off a shoe and poked their eyeballs out of their skulls.
And where the hell is that snake Michael?
Oh, he knows better. He’s probably wedged himself in some corner, pretending he’s invisible, because he knows me too damn well. He knows I’m in one of those moods where I don’t even need a reason to slit some throats. I’d even laugh while doing it.
Isabella stands up, looks at me, and her expression changes instantly. Something is off. I know it even before she sits down again. What the fuck did he do to her?
“And how old are you, Jack?” she asks.
Of course, I didn’t give her my real name.
“Cindy, it was great talking to you, but I’ve gotta go,” I say, forcing a smile.
“It’s Sloane,” she snaps, bristling.
I look at her a second too long, still smiling, but there’s nothing warm in it. “Yeah. Sure. If you say so.”
I walk up to Isabella without looking back.
