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“I don't.”
“You do.”
“I asked because I need to know if she's still drawing attention to me.”
“Right.”
“Professionally.”
“Obviously.”
“Fuck off.”
He opens one of the containers, then slides it across the table in front of me.
I don't move.
Beck glances at me. “She probably gave up.”
My eyes snap to his.
He sees it. Of course he fucking does.
And the bastard smiles. “Interesting.”
“What's interesting?”
“That.”
“What?”
“That look.”
“There was no look.”
“Roman, I've watched you put a bullet through a moving target from a distance I wouldn't even attempt. You think I can't recognize panic when I see it?”
“I'm not panicking.”
“Your girlfriend stopped looking for you.”
“She isn't my girlfriend.”
“Future wife, then.”
My eyes narrow.
Beck laughs so hard he nearly drops his food.
“You're an asshole.”
“And you're fucked.”
“I slept with her once.”
“Yeah. And now you've spent almost two weeks hiding in the woods watching her Instagram.”
My body stills.
