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Not happening, kiddo. Not tonight or any other night if I can figure out a way to escape this destiny.
After a long pause, he smiles prettily. “How about a cosmopolitan with cherries?”
“Sure.” I nod to a nearby table. “If you want to sit, I’ll be right back.”
He walks his fingers up my chest then tugs playfully on my tie. “Don’t keep me waiting, lover.”
My dick doesn’t even twitch with reactionary interest. This will never work.
As soon as he releases my arm, I spring across the room, eyes fixed on the bar. If I can’t escape outside, I can at least get a drink to soften the torture of the night.
The room grows warmer the farther away from the entrance I walk until my face flushes from the heat. As I wait in line for the bar, I try to loosen my tie without undoing it. Does the place not have an air conditioner? Or can it just not keep up with the number of people packed in here?
Sweat drips down my temple, and I use my cuff to wipe it away.
“What can I get for you?”
Blinking, I look up and find myself already at the bar. I don’t remember the line moving and quickly skim the bottles. “Um, virgin cosmopolitan with cherries and a shot of whiskey.” I wipe my forehead again. “Do you have ice water back there?”
Nodding, the bartender grabs a pitcher and fills a tumbler with ice water before he makes the drinks I ordered. As I chug the water, I don’t pay attention to what goes into the cosmopolitan, or how he makes a drink that’s half vodka virgin. I don’t care so long as Herold stays completely sober tonight. He’s already too handsy for my taste. When the bartender slides the shot in front of me, I shoot it back, then grab the pitcher and refill my tumbler with more water.
The booze doesn’t help the boil of heat under my skin, and I press the cold glass to my cheek as I take the cosmo and step away from the bar.
“Who’s the kid?” a smokey voice murmurs into my ear, and goose bumps rise all over my body.
I recognize the cologne as quickly as I do the voice and keep walking.
“Are you ignoring me now?” Roman steps in front of me, forcing me to stop or run into him. “Who’s the kid who keeps groping you?”
“Why, you want to steal him from me?” I gesture with the glass of water. “Take your best shot.”
“So, you’re not interested in him?” Something like relief flickers across his face before amusement replaces it, and anger sparks inside of me.
What, is it only worth stealing the guys I might actually like?
I lift my chin. “He’s my intended.”
The amusement vanishes in an instant. “Your intended for what?”
“Marriage.”
When I move to step around him, Roman catches my arm to stop me. “You’re not serious, are you?”
I look at him, meeting his eyes squarely. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
As he searches my face, his expression hardens. Before I can stop him, he slips his hand inside my jacket, fingers slipping over my chest. My pulse leaps at the light touch, my body reacting far more to his accidental brush than it has all night to Herold’s groping. Roman’s hand slips into my pocket, and he plucks out the key card my would-be fiancé slipped me earlier.
His eyes hold mine as he slips it into his pocket. “You don’t mind if I take this, do you?”
I refuse to let his Alpha aura force me to look away. “Have I ever minded when you take what’s mine?”
“I don’t know. I can never tell with you.” Reaching out, he straightens my tie. “This is the first time I’ve done it in a while. How does it make you feel?”
Relieved. Irritated. Trapped.
I lean forward, breathing in the citrus and spice of his cologne. “He’ll just give me another one. He’s eager to start making babies. So, if you’re going to make a move, you better do it fast.”
Pale-blue eyes snap up to meet mine, and a low growl rumbles in his chest.
