Page 51 of The Beat Match

Annie had been disgusted with Victor that night, but she’d also been angry with Wes. Living on the streets had taught her to rely on herself, not others. Wes taking over, trying to make decisions for her, had made her feel weak. Incapable of taking care of herself. His father’s disdain had rubbed salt on that wounded pride.

She’d snuck out of the mansion afterward, returned to the foster home she’d soon lose, where she’d helplessly watched Clementine sob quietly into her pillow. Wes never mentioned the conversation with his father or asked why she’d left. Annie’s anger had dissipated over time. She became thankful for that encounter. A reminder that if she was going to make it, she had to rely on herself. She also eventually saw Wes’s kindness for what it had been: concern for her.

Wes had returned to college and became a more permanent fixture in her life: more overbearing, more watchful, more involved. To this day, she was politely reserved with his father. She wasn’t sure how Wes coped with that man’s disapproving wrath.

Duncan waited on her now, patient but not quite, tapping his thumb on the table. She wanted to tell him about Rosanna and Falcon. She was concerned about Wes, just like Wes had always been concerned about her, but they weren’t her secrets to share.

“Speak of the devil,” Duncan said in a tone she couldn’t decipher. His attention was locked on the entrance.

When Annie realized who he was staring at, her stomach bottomed out. Wes swept into the room with Rosanna on his arm, and everyone in the restaurant seemed to hold a collective breath. The socialite was even more exquisite in person. Her bronze skin looked airbrushed, her thick, shiny hair fresh from a shampoo commercial. Wes whispered in her ear as they neared. Rosanna whispered back. Wes laughed heartily.

Annie tried to shrink in her seat.

Duncan stood and blocked the couple’s path. “So you do actually get fresh air. I thought you’d built an underground tunnel between work and home.”

Annie focused on her plate. She adjusted the spaghetti straps of her white lace dress. It was floor length, sewn with layers of intricate lace, the V dipping down her cleavage nearly transparent. The cut hadn’t allowed for a bra. She’d felt sexy and feminine when she’d put it on. Going out with Duncan may have been platonic, but dressing nice had been part of the appeal of their night out. A chance to feel pretty. With Wes here, she felt like she was playing dress-up. A lonely woman on a “friend” date, who couldn’t forget about the man she truly wanted.

“Hello, Anthea.” There was a bite to Wes’s formality, challenge in his clipped tone.

Disapproval that she was out with Duncan?

Wes wouldn’t know there was nothing romantic about their night, and she was glad for it. The guy had some nerve, judging her when he’d discarded her advances with the care of a back-alley surgeon. She had half a mind to cause a scene, upend their table and tell the world Weston Aldrich was emotionally challenged and couldn’t date a real woman, but theatrics would involve talking to him. She didn’t want to look up and see him this close with Rosanna.

Except…screw that.

She wasn’t about to spend her life creeping around on the subway to avoid a confrontation with them. He wasn’t interested in Annie. He’d made himself abundantly clear. She was allowed to dine here with Duncan or any other man.

She ticked up her chin, forced a placid expression. “Weston, pleasure as always. This must be your girlfriend. You two make quite the dashing couple.”

Wes flinched. Rosanna beamed. Annie brushed her long hair over her shoulders, putting her braless dress on display, and smiled at Duncan. “Sit so we can chat more. Let the two lovebirds be.” To Rosanna she said, “It was lovely to finally meet you.”

Kill those suckers with kindness.

Duncan obliged. Weston’s jaw looked tight enough to chip a tooth. The jerk could afford dental care, so he could gnash those ivories all he wanted.

Wes took a step away, cheek still bunching from his gnashing teeth, but Rosanna held her ground. “Anthea? I don’t think Wes has mentioned you.”

Of course he hadn’t. She was nothing but charity work to him. It shouldn’t still sting, but it did.

He cut a caustic look at Annie’s lacy dress, like the day he’d driven her to work and had judged her outfit. “She’s Annie,” he said, curt. “Anthea is her full name.”

Rosanna’s stunning dark eyes widened. “Oh, wow. The Annie. I take that back. Weston’s told me a lot about you.”

Hopefully he’d left out the part where she’d offered her body and soul to the man. “Don’t believe everything he says. If he said he sleeps with a nightlight on because he’s worried about stubbing a toe, total fib. He still has boogie-man nightmares.”

Rosanna laughed and nudged Wes’s arm. “I like her.”

“You two have a good night.” Wes nodded sharply and dragged his date off, not before Rosanna cast another long look at Annie.

Duncan resumed his seat, and Annie tried to will her haywire pulse into submission. Their drinks arrived. They talked. They ordered food. All normal behavior, but Weston’s appearance had dashed her hopes of forgetting him with a fun night out. Careless with her feelings, or not, she was still hopelessly in love with him. She cut and ate her rack of lamb, each piece of chewed meat barely making it down her throat. When she felt too overheated and frustrated to continue making small talk with Duncan, she excused herself to the bathroom, where her cell phone promptly buzzed with a text.

Wes: Are you out with him to get back at me?

He was a real piece of work, assuming her choices revolved around him. But she was out with Duncan to distract herself from thinking about Wes. Pesky details.

Annie: What I do is none of your business.

Wes: Everything you do is my business.