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“She shouldn’t need to,” Corbin hisses.
I sigh, shaking my head. I let out a fake yawn, then glance at the thin gold watch on my hand. It’s time to leave these guys alone. “It’s getting late for me,” I say. “Corbin, I need to get home.”
“Okay, honey. Let me get the check and we can go.”
I shake my head, pressing my hand to his forearm. “No. You stay and have fun with your friends. Scotty can take me home.”
Jericho stares at me with a drawn brow. “You don’t care if your fiancé stays out late with his old college pals?”
“I thought you were friends from humanitarian work?” I tease. “And no, I don’t care. But I do need to get to bed. I have to be up early for the inspection tomorrow.”
Corbin grabs my chin, pulling my attention to him. “Call me when you’re home so I know you’re safe.”
I nod. My hand reaches for his under the table, and he takes it. I flatten his hand while he still holds my chin, and slide the blue hair band into his palm. Then, I close his fingers around it. His eyes brighten as he looks at me, then to Yuliya, right to where my beige tie is wrapped around her braid.
Corbin exhales, then slides the band into the pocket of his trousers, and squeezes me against his chest. “Thank you,” he whispers against my ear. It’s so low, I can barely hear it over Jericho and Yuliya bickering.
When I pull from his embrace, he blinks back the burning of tears, then gives me a kiss on my cheek. And just like that, this “maybe we can try to love each other” arrangement has turned to “strictly friends putting on a show.”
And I’m okay with that. I know he is too.
After offering my goodbyes, I head out of the restaurant with a pissed-off Scotty in tow. His blatant attitude is unlike him. Usually, he keeps it all under wraps, but I’m sure he won’t be able to keep what’s bothering him bottled in.
And before he even yanks open the car door, my assumption is proven true when he glares at me. “How could you let him openly flirt with that woman? Right in front of you?”
Chapter Sixteen
Oh,iflookscouldkill.
My beautiful redheaded princess would be convicted of murder right here and now. I’d be keeled over from a stroke. Her fiery emerald eyes glare at me as if I’ve just told her I killed her pet gerbil back when she was a little girl and the thing disappeared for months before it was found fried under the radiator.
But that’s nothing compared to the rage I have brewing toward the surface. Sitting there, watching as her fiancé flirted with another woman right in front of her. No fucking respect, and she deserves that. She deserves loyalty from her future husband.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Saoirse says.
She wraps her hand around the door handle and tugs, but it doesn’t budge. My hand is wrapped around the edge of the door frame. Her nostrils flare and she grips it with both hands, pulling again.
“I know exactly what I’m talking about. That prick just took you out to dinner to, what? Flaunt you in front of his Bratva pals? He was into the sister. And he flirted with her in front of you.”
She tugs again, not ready to give up or acknowledge that I’m stronger than her, and the door isn’t closing until I say so. “No. He didn’t.”
“He tugged on her braid like a fucking school boy crush.” I give her a once over. “And you allowed it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jameson.” With all of her might, she gives the door one more tug. She still doesn’t budge the door.
I duck my head into the car, pressing my face against hers. Her mouth drops open, and I catch the hint of vodka on her breath. She hates vodka, hates the burn of it going down her throat, the way it causes her chest to catch fire, and the way it makes her head spin.
Yet, here she is, drinking it because the governor says so.
I grab her hand, glancing down at the white gold engagement band on her finger. It’s a size too big, with a stone so fucking huge it looks gaudy on her dainty finger. It’s not what I would pick for her at all. I’d have picked an emerald so bright it complemented the green fire in her eyes. This ring? It’s plain, and screams “made of money”. But it doesn’t have heart. He went in and asked for the most expensive ring and left with it, without even sparing it another glance.
“This isn’t you,” I say. “He doesn’t know you at all. And you let him flirt with another woman right in front of you. Is being with someone of power that important to you, Saoirse? You’d climb into bed with anyone who gives it to you?”
She shoves at my chest. It’s a feeble attempt to get me out of her space. She’s not strong enough to keep me away. She’ll never be strong enough. “It doesn’t matter, Scotty. I don’t care what he does with other women.”
“You should. It’s a scandal waiting to happen. Not to mention, you. Deserve. Better.”
“Do I?” She scoffs, shoving at me again but I don’t budge. “I’m sick of you deciding what’s right for me. This is my choice. You don’t get to have an opinion after you chased me away.”
