I blinked.“You don’t?”
“Nope.”His mouth curved into that infuriating half-smile.“The look on her face was worth it.Revenge and all that.”
I tried to fight it—I really did—but a smile crept onto my lips.I shook my head, turning away from him as if distance might’ve helped.Well, as much distance I could give while standing between the man's legs.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
His hand came up, cupping my chin and gently guiding my gaze back to his.His thumb brushed my cheek in a slow, deliberate stroke that sent my heart skittering wildly out of rhythm.
“Worth it if it put that smile on your face,” he said quietly.
For a second, everything narrowed to the space between us.The noise, the people, the history—it all blurred.His gaze dropped to my lips, and I'd be lying if I said mine didn't follow suit.No, this was all wrong.We couldn't.I couldn't.
I cleared my throat, breaking the moment before it swallowed me whole.
“I need a drink.”
He started to move, instinctively ready to follow, but I pressed my palm to his chest.
“I’m a big girl,” I said lightly.“I can get my own drink.”
His brows lifted, amused.“You sure?”
“Yes.”I turned, then hesitated.Sighing, I looked back and then added, “You want anything?”
He shook his head.“I’m good.”
I stepped away before he could pull me back in, weaving toward the bar with my pulse still racing, his touch lingering like a ghost on my skin.
By the time I reached the bar, the room felt louder—thicker.Conversations overlapped, laughter ricocheted off marble and glass, and the air smelled faintly of citrus and champagne.I leaned my elbows against the cool countertop and waited.
Ten minutes passed while the bartender worked his way down the line, all easy smiles and practiced charm.I checked my phone to pass the time, then when he finally turned to me, I ordered a Bellini.Simple.Safe.Something to keep my mind from wondering to the tattooed bad boy behind me.
“Savannah.”
Oh, just great.
His voice was the same.Warm.Confident.Like he still had the right to say my name that way.I didn’t turn right away.I kept my eyes on the bar, on the pale blush of prosecco filling the glass.
“Chase,” I said evenly.
13 | Give Him Something To Watch
Savannah
“Chase.”
The word left my lips cool and measured, all polish and restraint, like my heart didn't just dive to the floor.He was the last person I wanted to see—an unwelcome ghost dressed in tailored confidence and entitlement.Even his cologne reminded me of the last time I saw him: in a rushed panic to separate his dick from my cousin.
Silence followed my forced greeting, so I turned to face him, my brow arched in expectation.
“I was hoping you’d come,” he said warmly, like we were old friends running into each other by chance instead of two people standing in the wreckage of what used to be.
I scoffed softly, turning back to the bar where my Bellini sat untouched.“Don’t flatter yourself.I didn’t come for you.”
From my peripheral, I caught the way his lips curled.I knew that smile anywhere.It was the one he used when his last name opened doors for him, where he expected the world to bend to his will.
“It’s okay to admit you’re trying to get my attention, you know.”His gaze lingered on me, heavy with implication.“I'm used to that by now.”
