CHAPTER SEVEN
Russell steps away from me to speak to an old friend of his father’s, and that leaves me to deal with Wyatt’s livid gaze. While I do want to destroy him, I don’t want to jeopardize the transaction when we’re so close to completing everything. Under the guise of making my introduction rounds, I say hello to a couple of people on my way to Wyatt.
“Enjoying the party?” I can’t seem to help myself. Jabbing that imaginary dagger a little deeper into his chest feels too good.
“Not as much as you are, but the night is still young.”
“Where’s your date? I wanted to meet her.”
“She’ll be right back. I’ll be glad to introduce you to her.” He watches me, using his uncanny ability to see straight through to my soul. “While we wait for her, you can introduce me to your date.”
Panic grips me at the thought of the two men swapping stories about me. Just the thought of it makes me nauseous. But I swallow the bile rising in my throat and press forward toward my goal. “Sure, I can introduce you to Russell.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and inhales deeply. “Do you even know he’s in love with you?”
“You haven’t even spoken to Russell. How would you know how he feels or what he thinks?” His words and the turn in the conversation shock me to the point my response sounds stilted and unnatural.
“Because I’m not fucking blind, Megan. I have eyes that see and ears that hear. Do you?” He keeps his voice low and composed so others mingling around us can’t hear him. But I detect the controlled anger in his tone. I feel the tension rolling off him in waves.
Before I can respond, Russell reappears by my side with a fresh drink. He takes the nearly empty glass from my hand and places it on the tray of a passing waiter. “Here you go, sweets. Thought you could use a refresher.” Then he turns his attention to Wyatt and extends his hand. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m Russell Harrison, and you are?”
“Wyatt Weston.” He takes Russell’s hand and gives it a quick two-pump shake. “I’m the ex.”
I stop breathing, and I can’t remember how to start again.
“Beg your pardon?” Russell asks.
“The ex-CEO,” Wyatt clarifies, shifting his gaze to me. “Megan swooped in from nowhere, pulled the rug right out from under my feet, and I didn’t even know I’d hit the ground until she was done with me. She’s good, I have to give her that.”
“You have no idea just how good,” Russell agrees. “She has an incredible head for business.”
Russell thinks Wyatt is talking about the business acquisition. By his tone, I have a feeling Wyatt is talking about something completely different, but his statement doesn’t line up with our ending.
Wyatt’s date walks up to his side with a friendly smile on her face. He drapes his arm around her shoulders and pulls her close to him. “It’s about time. I was beginning to think you’d ditched me.”
“Never. You know better than that.” She playfully smacks him on the chest, obviously comfortable with touching him and public displays of affection.
That envy I thought I was done with? It’s back with a renewed fury. Not only is she obviously in his same league, it’s painfully obvious that she’s also a nice person. She’s not tainted. She hasn’t been jaded by love yet. She’s able to give and accept affection without fear of what others think or say.
She’s who I thought I was when I was with Wyatt.
She’s what I’ll never be again.
With a sweet smile, she offers her hand to me. “Wyatt has forgotten his manners. Hi, I’m Jackie. You must be Megan King.”
“Yes, I am. It’s nice to meet you, Jackie.” I shake her hand and return a warm smile. I keep reminding myself none of this is her fault.
“I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to meet you finally.”
“Oh? Good things, I hope.” I laugh and try to keep the nervous quiver out of it.
“All good, all good.”
I introduce her to Russell, and they exchange pleasantries. Then Jackie asks, “Have you two been together long?”
Russell and I exchange an awkward glance, one that Wyatt picks up on immediately and cuts his all-seeing eyes to me. Our gazes meet briefly before I drop my eyes to the floor for a heartbeat to break his telepathic connection to my thoughts.
“We’ve known each other for several years, but we’re actually just good friends.” Russell takes a drink from his glass and glances around the room, a clear sign he’s uncomfortable with this topic.
