That was enough.
Lydia Mullen tilts her head, smile still in place. “I would know if my sister were dating someone like you.”
Her eyes move over me with slow, curious interest, lingering long enough for Natalie to notice. I feel the reaction in Natalie’s body before I see it on her face, the quick tightening at her waist, the small flash of jealousy she tries to bury.
I pull her closer.
Lydia’s interest means nothing to me. Women with practiced smiles have looked at me like that for years, measuring the suit, the money, the name on the door. Lydia is only different because she is standing too close to Natalie while making Natalie feel small.
Natalie gives herself away in a hundred small ways. Every flicker of hurt, every flash of temper, every soft pull of attraction she tries to smother before it reaches her face. I deal with polished people every day, men and women with careful smiles and clean lies, but she tells the truth before her mouth can protect her.
I enjoy that more than I should.
She is twenty-four. I am thirty-eight. She works outside my office, answers my calls, knows my schedule, and looks at me like she has no idea what she is doing to my control. Any one of those facts should be enough to make me take my hand off her waist.
I keep it there.
“I didn’t realize we had to ask your permission,” I say.
Lydia’s smile holds, though the shine goes out of it.
Wesley shifts beside her. “We just brought the invitation.”
I look at him until he stops talking.
A man can learn plenty from what another man does under pressure. Wesley’s shoulders draw back, his jaw tightens, and the confidence he brought into my building starts looking like something he bought with his clothes.
Natalie once cared about him. That is the only reason I leave the thought where it is.
Lydia clears her throat. “It’s for the wedding weekend, actually. Rehearsal dinner Friday, ceremony Saturday, brunch Sunday. Everyone is staying at the Everpine Hotel near the venue, so we needed to finalize rooms.”
Natalie’s hand closes harder around the envelope.
Now I understand why they came in person.
They wanted the weekend lodged in her head before she left work. Three days of family, questions, forced smiles, and Wesley standing beside Lydia while Natalie was expected to sit alone and swallow every insult they served her.
My jaw tightens.
People like Lydia dress cruelty in good manners and expect everyone else to play along.
I have no interest in playing.
“She won’t need a room from you,” I say.
Natalie’s breath catches.
Lydia blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“I’ll reserve the presidential suite.”
For the first time, Lydia’s smile slips all the way. “Good luck with that. Wesley and I tried to book it months ago.”
I take my phone from my pocket.
I send one text to the Everpine’s general manager with the dates and the only room I want.
Presidential suite.
