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“I’m guessing I’m not privy to them without that NDA, huh?”
I almost smile. Almost. Eden’s spunky, always has been.
From across the mezzanine, I spot a couple of guys in their booth peeking at Eden over their shoulders. I’ve been out of the game for a really long time, but I can still recognize the looks on their faces. They eye her like a piece of meat, licking their lips and whispering amongst themselves. I don’t appreciate the way they focus on her exposed thighs, or the way Eden clearly shrinks in on herself under the attention.
A strange heat boils in the pit of my stomach. I can’t tell if it’s anger or not. All I know is that I don’t like it. Not one bit.
I shrug off my suit jacket and drape it over her lap. “The fuck are you even wearing? You look like a damn flamingo.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that tonight.”
She laughs, the sound of it ringing in my ears. My cock twitches, seemingly lured by the sound. I have no sweet clue what’s going on with me, but I know I need to put a lid on it and fast. Except…
Except it doesn’t help that she’s even more beautiful up close. It doesn’t help that she smells like coconut and summertime. It doesn’t help that her pretty black hair reminds me of the night sky, and the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose remind me of the stars.
She reminds me of a young Audrey Hepburn, far too delicate and graceful for her gaudy pink getup that I’m assuming she borrowed from her loud friend. It doesn’t match her personality like her modest black interview dress did.
I wasn’t going to lie. I wanted to bend her over my desk earlier and give her a good spanking for all the unnecessary lip she was giving me. But now that I know who she really is, that’s an absolute no-go.
The douchebag frat boys with too much hair gel and not enough sense make their move, approaching as a pair. It seems my presence hasn’t deterred their interest in Eden, but that’s about to change.
“Hey, sweetheart,” one of them says. He’s got fat gold chains around his neck. “Wanna dance with us? You look bored out of your mind with this old fart here.”
His comments don’t bother me. Why would I ever concern myself with the opinions of a gnat? Eden, on the other hand, purses her lips. It’s cute that she looks offended on my behalf.
“No, thank you,” she states firmly. “I’m waiting for my friend to get back.”
“She can come dance with us, too,” he continues with a chuckle. “Come on, sugar. Let’s have a little fun.”
“The young lady already gave you an answer,” I say coolly. “Move along, kid.”
He puffs out his chest just like I expect him to. Boys his age are so damn predictable. “How about you shut the fuck up, old man?”
I rise from my seat, slowly and in control. I’ve got a good couple of inches on him, which makes glaring down my nose at him like the worm he is that much easier. “Move. Along.”
One of the nightclub’s bouncers approaches. “Mr. Stride. Are these guys bothering you?”
“No, but theyaredisturbing the young lady here.”
“I’ll have them removed immediately, sir.”
The kid with gold chains scoffs. “The fuck? You can’t be serious.”
“Wait,” his buddy mumbles. “Stride? As in Hunter Stride?” Fear washes over his face. “Ah, fuck. Dude, we’re sorry, okay? Don’t listen to Chet. He’s a fucking idiot.”
Chet’s nostrils flare. “Who the fuck—”
“TheHunter Stride, you fucking moron. He’s the director ofWalk Through Fire?Irredeemable Cretins?”
I regard the two of them thoughtfully. “Let me guess,” I say slowly. “You’re both actors?”
Chet grits his teeth. “Yeah? What’s it to you?”
“Figured. Most people in this town are.” I shift my weight forward ever so slightly. I’m in his face now and I can tell he doesn’t like it, but I know he’s not going to do something stupid like swing. I can see him for what he is: a coward.
“This is what you’re going to do,” I say in a low tone, just loud enough for the two of them alone to hear. “You’re going to apologize to Eden for shoving your ugly mugs in her face. Next, you’re going to slink back to your table and remain there. If you don’t, I’ll make a couple of calls and make sure that neither of you get so much as atoeinside an audition room for the rest of your miserable lives. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly clear, Mr. Stride,” Chet’s buddy says, already dragging him away. “So sorry, miss. Have a good evening.”
