I see a woman who needs to learn where the line is.
“Tread carefully,” I say.
The words come out low, and she hears everything inside them.
Wesley steps forward half an inch. “You don’t need to talk to her like that.”
I shift my gaze to him.
He stops.
“You brought my woman an invitation with no plus one, made a show of her being single, then acted surprised when she had a man standing beside her.” My voice stays even because anger does more damage when it does not need volume. “You are both done here.”
Natalie goes very still atmy woman.
So do Lydia and Wesley.
I said exactly what I meant.
Lydia recovers with the kind of speed that tells me she has had practice losing and pretending otherwise. “Fine. We’ll see you both this weekend.”
“Yes,” I say. “You will.”
Wesley looks at Natalie. “Nat, if you feel pressured…”
My hand slides farther around her waist, pulling her closer.
“Use her full name.”
His eyes snap to mine. “She always liked Nat.”
“I don’t know if she did,” I say. “She doesn’t seem to like it now.”
The color leaves his face.
Natalie’s breath breaks softly beside me.
I have plenty more I could say. Wesley has given me enough material, and I know how to take a man apart with words when I feel like wasting them. I leave it there because Natalie is standing beside me, and this is still her wound, even if every possessive instinct in me wants to end the source.
Lydia takes Wesley’s arm. “Come on.”
They walk to the elevator. Wesley looks back once, and I hold his stare until the doors close.
Only then does Natalie step away from me.
I let her go, though my body does not appreciate the loss.
She turns with the invitation clutched in both hands. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes too bright, and anger is fighting embarrassment across her face.
“What was that?”
“A fix.”
“A fix?” Her voice drops when she remembers the office around us. “You told my sister you’re spending the weekend with me in the presidential suite.”
“Yes.”
“And you booked the presidential suite.”
