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He jumps past me, picks up the phone, then growls, "You fucking cracked the screen."
"I am so sorry," I say in a low voice. "Really, Isaac, I didn’t intend for that to happen."
He turns to me. "I told you coming here was a bad idea. I’d rather have been homeless in the park than stay under the same roof as him. But you had to insist, didn’t you? And now look what happened."
"Hold on, you’re being unreasonable. We can repair the screen of your phone, okay, or God knows, your father can buy you a new one."
"I don’t want anything from him. When will you get that through your head?"
"Isaac, please." I bite the inside of my cheek. "I am really sorry I dropped your phone. It was an accident. You know that, right? As for staying with your father, it’s only temporary. Just until I’ve earned enough money so we can move to our own place. Also, this way you get to paint, and you have a ready audience for your creations—"
"You mean in his stuffy offices."
"It’s going to be seen by people. Isn’t that what you want? It’s a win-win for everyone."
He blows out a breath. "You mean a win-win for you. You get to work for him and get experience that will help further your career.”
He pockets the phone then begins to walk to the door.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"To this gathering. You wanted me there, right?"
"Only because it’s a condition of your father’s. And you can’t go down dressed like that."
He glances down at the jeans which mold to his thighs, and the frayed jacket he wears that stretches across his shoulders. He doesn’t look bad. In fact, he looks sexy in a bad-boy way—a look I don’t mind. It’s just... He appears way too underdressed, which, considering JJ didn’t specify a dress code, is probably something he can get away with. It’s just, I don’t want to anger JJ any further. And given how formally he was dressed, chances are the rest of his guests will be similarly dressed.
"Can’t I?" Isaac’s eyes gleam. He spins around and heads out the door.
"Isaac, stop." I race after him, but his long strides eat up the distance. He walks to the stairs, taking them two at a time. By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, he’s already at the doorway to the conservatory.
"Oh, hell." I break into a run, but by the time I reach the conservatory, he’s already halfway across the floor. I glance around and take in the men dressed in tailor-made suits and the women in elegant dresses. In one corner, a man kneels next to a little girl. There’s a cat next to her and she’s petting it. Except for them, every other person’s gaze is on me. I blow out a breath and resist the urge to glance away from the sea of designer suits and elegant dresses. So what if my own is an off-the-rack charity shop dress. I look good in it. I do. The hair on the back of my neck rises. A shiver snakes its way under my skin.
I jerk my chin up to find JJ glaring at me from across the room. Eh? As if it’s my fault his son decided to gatecrash his party dressed like he’s going on a hike. I refuse to feel guilty about that. I am not his son’s keeper. I am his… Girlfriend? Iamhis girlfriend. Doesn’t mean I should have to continuously try to keep him in line. Especially when JJ himself seems to go out of his way to antagonize Isaac. I purse my lips, and JJ’s glare deepens. I tip up my chin, turn my gaze toward Isaac and groan. He’s at the bar, pouring himself a drink. I cross the floor to reach him, conscious that every gaze in the room is on me.
"Isaac, what are you doing?" I hiss.
"Having a drink. What does it look like?" He tosses back the whiskey, then grabs the bottle of Macallan and pours himself another healthy portion. He raises it to his lips and I grab his arm.
"Please, Isaac, don’t get drunk."
"It’s only my second drink."
"You know you don’t have a great tolerance for alcohol."
"Afraid I’ll make a scene and my father will throw us out?"
"You know it’s not just that. I care about you, Isaac. I don’t want you to make a scene in front of these people."
"Like I care." He glances around the space then back at me. "Remove. Your. Hand. Lena," he says in a hard voice.
I stare at him, then release my hold on his arm. He tosses back the drink, then reaches for the bottle of Macallan again. This time I snatch it from him.
"What the—!" Isaac swoops down, manages to get his fingers on it.
I twist my body, turn away and wrestle the bottle from him.
"Fuck!" His features contort. He raises his arm.
