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“I don’t feel like I don’t know you. I’ve seen you around these things before. My mother makes me attend them with her as her plus one. You don’t ever look happy to be here, either. What’s your name?” he asked, moving closer.

I took another step back.

I knew that I was right about the trust fund part.

Spoiled rotten asshole.

“I also saw that I’m at the same table with you,” he continued. “It looks like we’re sitting down now to get started. May I offer you my arm?”

I’d rather fall on my face in front of all of these people than take his arm. Which I could tell that he noticed.

His lips turned up into an evil grin. “Did I mention that your dad needs campaign money, and my mother is one of his highest donators?”

Fuckin’ great.

Still, I didn’t give a flying fuck if my dad won re-election or not. Honestly, he could get beat out tomorrow and I wouldn’t cry a single tear.

Turning my back on the asshole, I crossed the room to my table, hoping beyond hope the asshole wasn’t actually seated at our table. And if he was, I prayed he was far enough away from me that I wouldn’t have to sit next to him.

It was when I was about ten feet away from the table I’d be sitting at for the night that I saw who was also seated at our table.

I all but froze solid at the sight of him.

His eyes were on me, too.

A grin kicked up the corner of Lynn’s mouth, and I stared at him blankly.

That blank look slipped off my face when a shot of ice went down my spine.

That coldness slipped down the crack of my ass, and then further down the length of one leg.

I whirled around and glared at the man that’d apparently been following me too closely.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I growled. “Back the fuck off!”

The man held his hands up. “Sorry, you just stopped really fast, and I wasn’t prepared for you to.”

“Maybe if you learned that thing called personal space, you would have been prepared,” I snapped, whirling around and stomping toward the table and my chair, which happened to be right the hell across from the smirking Lynn.

I’d just reached my chair when I saw the woman at Lynn’s side touch his arm to get his attention. She was showing him something on her phone, and Lynn smiled.

My heart all but stopped.

Because in all of the scenarios that played in my head when I thought about seeing him again, none of them had a woman in it.

At least, not a woman that wasn’t me.

“Can I get your chair for you?” the shithead asked.

I ignored him and reached for the cloth napkin that was at the place in front of my nametag, then reached backward and cleaned off my back and what I could reach of my leg.

Luckily, the splash was only a small spot.

I hoped that it didn’t stain Wyett’s dress.

When I was done getting what I could from the back, I then bent down and got what I could from the bottom, going all the way up to my knee before I decided that any further would likely be indecent.

When I returned to standing normal, the man that was indeed sitting at our table with us sat down. Luckily four spots over from mine, which meant my father, when he returned to his seat, would actually be between us.

Thank God.

When I placed the napkin down onto the table, I glanced at Lynn once again under my eyelashes and saw that his eyes were fixated on me.

My heart, already beating fast due to his nearness, went into overtime.

Damn, the man was really potent.

Like, if it were possible, I’d self-implode right there in front of him.

“Lynnwood.” The man that’d done the spilling sat down.

“William,” Lynn replied back, voice clipped.

“Who is your date?” William asked.

“This is Mina.” Lynn gestured to the ‘date.’

I felt my stomach pitch in response.

Mina smiled tightly at William, making me actually like her.

Dammit.

That sucked, because I didn’t want to like her. Not when she was sitting next to the man that I’d become stupidly obsessed with.

“Hello, Mina.” William’s creepy smirk had me curling my lip at him in disgust.

Luckily, my father chose that moment to head toward our table.

Not that I really wanted to see him or anything, but it was better than whatever William the weirdo was gearing up toward.

“Hello.” My father’s thick Russian accent interrupted Mina’s response. “How are you, Lynn?”

Lynn nodded toward my father. “Good. You?”

“Well, well,” my father replied.

And, like always, my father didn’t acknowledge anyone else at the table.

Though, it wasn’t a male/female thing but instead a ‘you’re not worth my time’ kind of thing.

Hell, I hadn’t gotten greeted yet, and he was my father.

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