Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“I hope there’s room for one more,” he says lightly, gaze cutting to Evelyn with quiet intent, as if daring her to say otherwise.
Her spine goes rigid, pleasant smile snapping tight. “Actually, I’m afraid there isn’t.”
“Really?” His tone is all polite challenge. “Is this seat already taken?”
“Yes.”
He picks up a menu, calm as can be. “Funny. You didn’t mention dining out this evening.”
“I wasn’t under the impression I needed your permission,” she replies, tone clipped and smooth as glass.
“Perhaps I’d already made arrangements for us,” he volleys back.
The atmosphere shifts, growing charged and uncomfortable. Even Lucas seems to sense it, pretending to study the wine list while the waiter stares at his screen like it’s possible to disappear inside it.
Evelyn’s jaw tightens as Hugh leans closer. “Tell me, do you practice that frosty tone in the mirror, or does it come naturally?”
Her lashes lower. “If you find me so cold, perhaps you should move to a warmer seat.”
He chuckles. “And miss watching you pretend you don’t enjoy this? I don’t think so.”
Evelyn exhales, the sound full of long-suffering patience. “It’s strange how you mistake irritation for enjoyment.”
“Do I?” he counters, his grin lazy yet lethal. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re hanging on every word.”
She tips her chin in regal dismissal. “Please. I’ve heard better lines from second-rate politicians.”
“Ah, but none of them ever managed to make you blush.”
A faint flush creeps up her throat before she looks away. “Keep reaching, Hugh. One day, you just might say something that interests me.”
He laughs. “Sweetheart, I’ve always been interesting. You’re just the last one willing to admit it.”
Another sigh escapes her, but this time it sounds more like surrender than annoyance.
I lean back in my seat, half amused and half intrigued. This isn’t just banter. It’s a battle. A tug-of-war where neither of them wants to let go first. It makes me wonder what’s really going on between them.
Although, their back and forth isn’t enough to keep my mind off the man brooding on the other side of the restaurant. No matter how hard I try to force my attention elsewhere, my gaze continually drifts back to him. From the way he’s staring, it’s obvious he’s tuned Gabby out completely. His shoulders are squared, and elbows are braced on the table like he’s locked in for the long haul.
His focus doesn’t budge from me.
Not even for a second.
It’s the same look he gave me at the press conference, like I’m the only person who exists.
Heat spreads through my chest until it becomes difficult to breathe. My skin prickles under the heavy weight of his stare. Beneath the pull and dizzy rush of being watched with that kind of intensity, another feeling simmers.
Jealousy.
I’m envious of a woman out on a date with a man I keep swearing I don’t give a damn about. I’m jealous over a situation I promised myself I’d never get caught in.
This is exactly why I never let things get too deep.
Why I keep it casual.
Temporary.
It’s the reason I never hand over power that could destroy me.
The moment you lower your guard and let someone matter, jealousy and hurt slip right in through the cracks.
Love doesn’t just break you.
It teaches you not to trust anyone with the fragile pieces of your heart.
And yet here I am, letting a hockey player worm his way under my skin. The very thing I swore I’d never do.
Pull it together, Rina.
Just get through this evening.
Tomorrow will be easier.
I turn my attention back to Lucas.
He’s nice.
Polished.
Safe.
He’s the kind of man you could build a quiet life with. He listens, doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t smirk like he’s already three steps ahead. He’s everything I should want and absolutely none of what I crave.
He doesn’t set off fireworks under my skin or scatter my thoughts.
He doesn’t make me feel.
Not the way a certain someone else does.
“Is something wrong, darling?” Evelyn’s tone cuts through my silent spiral, silk wrapped around steel. Her gaze zeros in on me, much too knowing.
“Of course not.” The brightness I force into my voice feels hollow as it scrapes my throat raw.
I shove back my chair and rise to my feet. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
Not once do I glance in Oliver’s direction. If I do, I’ll never make it out of the room. I walk quickly, pushing through the restroom door.
Cool air greets me, carrying the faint scent of lavender and lemon polish. The hum of conversation fades behind the door as I grip the porcelain sink and stare at my reflection.
My lipstick is perfect.
My expression is not.
“Get a hold of yourself, Rina,” I whisper. “You’re stronger than this. You don’t need him.”
The pep talk sounds empty.
A lie I’ve rehearsed too many times.
Another hour. Ninety minutes at most. Then I can go home, pour a drink, and pretend tonight never happened.