The freezing shock had me on the verge of being dragged under when Ethan jumped in to save me.
I scowl at him, pursing my lips.
“I still haven’t forgiven you for that. I could’ve gotten killed or at least wound up with a bad case of hypothermia. The water was freezing.”
“I saved you, didn’t I?” he throws back. “You were never in any real danger with me around.”
“And I wouldn’t have been in danger at all if you hadn’tliedto me.”
He rolls his eyes, but his mouth does that little twitchy thing again, like he’s chewing on his guilt.
I want to choke this man.
Ideally with both hands.
“I didn’t know you’d jump in, Pages. Can’t hold that against me.”
Out of habit, I push my glasses up before remembering I’m not wearing them.
For special nights out, I go with contacts, and glasses definitely feel out of place here. But the gesture is so ingrained in my psyche I’ll always do it.
“So that makes lying okay, huh?” I cluck my tongue, wondering why I bother searching his eyes for a shred of humanity.
Same old Ethan, just as awful and unserious as ever.
He looks at me calmly, waiting.
“You haven’t changed at all,” I mutter.
Sure, he plunged into the water to rescue me that day, but he’s acting like that deserves a medal. It’s more like the bare minimum of acceptable behavior.
So he didn’t let medie.
Well done.
Let’s rename a street in his honor.
“Have we been here long enough yet? I’m going to find Margot.” I push back from the table and my half-eaten fish before he can answer. His face shifts back to being blank and bored. “I think your people have seen us talking enough.”
I don’t give him a chance to reply before I walk away.
I’ve done my duty for this stupid engagement.
Now it’s time to drown in champagne worth more than this insanely expensive dress.
With dinner winding down, other guests are up and walking around. I’m about halfway across the room when a man puts his hand on my arm.
“Hattie Sage!” he says it so brightly it’s like we’re old friends.
I take a step back and look at him.
He’s roughly my age, maybe a few years older, with icy-blond hair that’s maybe slightly too long around his face and hazel eyes. His smile glows, so blindingly charming my heart does a flip.
“…do I know you?” I ask.
He sticks out his hand.
“If you don’t, you will soon enough. I’m Cooper. Cooper Daley. I worked with Leonidas Blackthorn.”
