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Dinner?He thinks you’re still with James, idiot.
“Uh. Umm, that would be… uh nice.”
He gives me a small smile, his eyes creasing at the corners. “You didn’t tell me where you’re staying, Ariana.”
“Oh,” I stumble. “At the Grand Pacific.”
“What a stroke of luck, so am I.”
I nod rapidly, though I want to go and hide somewhere.Please don’t ask me about…
“How is that wayward son of mine treating you?”
I can’t tell him. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I don’t want to get into it right now.
“Uh, just fine. Thanks, Mr. Bentley.”
He lets go of me, finally, but gives my chin a small squeeze. “Please, it’s Lukas, Ariana. You make me sound like an old man.”
His small touch goes straight to my core, and while I contemplate what that’s all about, he continues to stare down at me, like he’s waiting for an answer.
Talk about dark and dangerous.
No, you’re a fucking fox, Mr. B.
“Oh, sure, sorry… Lukas.”It sounds so wrong.“Well, it’s really great running into you, a coincidence, really.”
His lips twitch. “I’ll be in Cancun for about a week. It would be lovely to catch up. I’ll be staying in the Penthouse suite.”
Of course, you are.
Having drinks or dinner with him may just be the end of me. I’d rather die than have a family get together and discuss my breakup, leaving out all the good parts where I cut up all his sons designer ties and smashed his computer.
“Uh, yeah sure.”
He leans into his jacket pocket and pulls out a business card. “Here’s my number. Text me when you’re free.”
It doesn’t even sound like a question, more like a foregone conclusion.
I take it, giving him a smile. “I will, for sure.” I have no intention of doing that in a million years.
He gives me a big shit-eating grin as my eyes go slightly wide, and he stalks off, cool as anything, with his one small suitcase in hand. There is no way he can fit a week’s worth of stuff in that small suitcase. Though, he probably gets his suits and ties flown in on a private jet.
I meander back to my friends, who stand there assessing me with judgy eyes.
“What?” I say when I finally reach them.
“Who was that hot, old guy?” Charlize’s eyes narrow.
I laugh. “Old? He’s notthatold, he’s like forty-eight or something, and get this... that’s James’s dad.”
They both gape at me. “That’sJames’ dad?” Imogen splutters.
I nod my head. “Yup.”
“Fuck me. He’s a bit of a stud,” Charlize goes on. “He’s got that whole sugar daddy vibe going on.”
I wince. “Thanks for that unwanted visual. He has quite the reputation with the ladies, or so I’ve heard.”
