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"I'm always the center of attention, silly," she says, sticking her tongue out at me. "People love me. They can't help it."
"Make sure you know who you're loving though, babe," I tell her, eyeing Drake. "Not everyone is as innocent as you."
"Oh?" Natalie asks with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not really that innocent, you know."
I smile at her and she smiles back. And then there's a cough.
Again, the world intrudes. In the form of fucking Drake Carlton.
"Well, Sloane, I hope you have a pleasant evening," Drake says to me. "As you can see, we've already begun ours."
I look over at Drake for the first time. He's staring at me. With his arm still on Natalie's knee. She doesn't remove it. But she's not encouraging it, either.
She's waiting to see who's gonna win her.
"Are you leaving soon?" Drake asks again. I can tell he's starting to get exasperated with my presence.
Good.
"Oh, I just got here, Dad," I say with a fucking smarmy ass smile. "I'm not leaving here for a good, long time."
"Well, good," Drake says, his eyes becoming steely. Fuck this man if he thinks I'm just going to fucking leave and let him proceed uninterrupted.
"I'll be next to the terrace windows," I say to them both. "Catching up on some emails."
Then I look to Natalie.
"Can't wait to catch up with you tomorrow, sis," I say. I can see her cheeks flush. She's thinking of what's going to happen.
Whatever happens here tonight, tomorrow will hang over her head.
Make her wonder what else is coming.
Fuck Drake if he thinks he got to her first.
This game has just but fucking begun.
Drake
"Can't wait to catch up with you tomorrow, sis," Sloane yells out, and I can't help but smile as I watch him retreat with his tail between his legs.
What was he thinking, coming here unannounced? Racquetball my fucking
ass.
I don't know who he thought he was kidding.
He's outmatched. It's almost too easy. He's a naïve kid trying to maneuver in a grown man's game. The sooner he realizes this, the better off he'll be.
He'll quickly see that he's playing a losing strategy.
My hand is still resting on Natalie's leg, and I move it to her hair, brushing a few blonde strands behind her ear. "Where were we?" I ask, smiling.
"We were talking about something … Dirty," she smiles back.
"Of course, Dirty Lil' Angels."
I watch as she takes a careful sip of her wine, but before we can talk business, our waiter approaches, placing a half dozen chilled, raw oysters in front of us.
