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"Alright, I'll have a glass of Jameson on the rocks," he decides.
The server jots down our orders and leaves to attend to other tables. As she walks away, I can't help but tease Ezra just a little. "Welcome to the world of dive bars, Mr. Billionaire."
He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leans in close. "I have to admit, it's a whole new experience for me, but I'm enjoying it, especially since I'm here with you."
“You really like it?” I ask with an arched brow.
“Well, no, but I’ll go anywhere you want to go.”
The warmth of his words washes over me, erasing any lingering discomfort. With Ezra by my side, I know we can navigate any unfamiliar territory together.
The pulsating music washes over us as we huddle together around our small table, the dim lighting casting a warm, intimate glow over the four of us. I take a sip of my cocktail, the fruity sweetness of the pineapple juice mingling with the fiery kick of the rum. The scent of wood and leather fills the air, a comforting aroma that reminds me of Ezra's presence.
"So, Ezra," Adam begins, his voice barely audible above the thrum of the bass. "You're the big-shot tech billionaire behind NexTech, huh? Must be nice to have all that money and power at your fingertips."
Ezra's expression remains neutral, but I can sense the tension that flickers in his eyes. "It's not about the money or power, Adam. It's about creating something that can change the world for the better."
Kate chimes in, her tone lighthearted as she tries to diffuse the situation. "We're really proud of Quinn for landing such a catch! Aren't you, Adam?"
Adam smirks, taking a swig of his beer. "Sure, but I can't help wondering how someone like Ezra ended up with someone like Quinn. No offense, but you guys are from completely different worlds, and she works for you as the nanny."
I feel my cheeks heat up, embarrassment and hurt warring within me. I glance at Ezra, who remains composed despite the thinly veiled insult. He squeezes my hand under the table, offering silent reassurance.
"It's true that Quinn and I come from different backgrounds, but that's not what defines our relationship," Ezra says, his voice steady and firm. "We connect on a deeper level, and we share the same values and dreams. That's what's important."
Adam scoffs, clearly unimpressed. "Yeah, well, you've got fifteen years on us, man. What could you possibly have in common with a bunch of twenty-somethings?"
The tension at the table grows, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. I glance at Kate, her eyes wide with concern as she watches the scene unfold.
Ezra leans forward, his gaze never leaving Adam's. "Age is just a number, Adam. What matters is the connection two people share. Quinn and I are deeply connected."
His words resonate within me, a soothing balm against the sting of Adam's remarks.
Adam leans forward. “Maybe you just want to bang a hot young woman.”
The moment those words leave his mouth, the tension at our table explodes. Both men push back their chairs, which fall to the floor with a loud crash. They rise to their feet, fists clenched and faces red with anger. The music continues to pulse around us, but it's drowned out by the pounding of my heart.
I glance around, noticing other patrons turning their heads to watch the brewing confrontation. Kate and I exchange panicked glances before we each grab the arms of our respective partners.
Ezra grabs Adam's collar and shoves him against the wall. "I will not tolerate this disrespect."
"That's enough!" I shout, my voice shaking with anger and fear. "We don't need to stoop to his level."
Kate jumps in too, her loyalty to me shining through. "We're here to have fun and enjoy each other's company. Let's not ruin the night with unnecessary drama."
As we plead with them to calm down, the men's anger seems to slowly dissipate. Their breathing steadies, and their fists unclench. Ezra releases his grip on Adam's collar, and Adam slides down the wall, his face still red from the confrontation.
I glance around, noticing the bartender eyeing us warily, clearly considering whether to kick us out of the bar. Desperate to salvage the night, I muster all the courage I can and address our group.
"Listen, we came here to have a good time, not to fight," I say, my voice firm but gentle. "Let's put this behind us and enjoy the rest of the night. We don't want to get kicked out of here, do we?"
The men exchange glances but don’t appear to want to put the incident behind them.
As we sit back down, the tension lingers in the air like an uninvited guest, but Kate and I do our best to move past it, steering the conversation toward lighter topics. As we chat, I find myself acutely aware of Ezra's presence beside me, his strong hand still gripping mine under the table.
The music pulses around us, but the tension at our table is thick enough to cut through the noise.
The tension is interrupted by the strum of a guitar, followed by the rhythmic tapping of drums. A live band has taken the stage, their sultry tunes beckoning patrons to the dance floor. Ezra's eyes meet mine, a playful glint in them as he stands and extends his hand to me.
