The Billionaire's Princess - Ava Ryan Page 0,1

unmistakable flare of annoyance that makes her lips thin.

My glass continues to hover somewhere near my mouth, so I raise it to her in a toast and die a thousand tiny deaths while I wait for her reaction.

She hesitates, clearly thinking it over. Then, to my utter astonishment, she flashes the beginnings of a sexy smile that promises heaven on earth between her legs. My heart pounds and pounds harder as she stands and shimmies her clingy dress into place with some delightful hip action. My mouth waters, I admit, and keeps watering when she picks up her drink and takes a couple of steps in my direction. My floundering brain recovers enough to order me to stand and greet her, which I start to do. I should mention that I usually prefer to do the hunting, but this works for me. If you’re out deep-sea fishing and a swordfish flops onto your boat and lands at your feet, you don’t throw the thing back, do you? No. You don’t. I’m also usually low-key about these interactions, but there’s no stopping my thrilled grin from its complete facial takeover.

Until she stops on the other side of her own little table, lobs a withering frown in my direction and sits facing the banquette she just vacated, presenting me with her lovely back. Leaving me stunned and seriously disappointed.

Like a fucking loser.

My brothers guffaw while I linger there, half up and half down.

“That one’s going to leave a nasty bruise in the morning.” Griffin, my thirty-two-year-old middle brother, claps me on the back in a mock show of sympathy. “You’re going to want to ice it down before you go to bed by yourself tonight.”

He’s right. I snort back an involuntary laugh as I sit again, rubbing my aching chest under the guise of straightening my tie.

I feel dazed. No shit.

She got me. I’m man enough to admit that. She’s got beauty and a sharp sense of humor. I like that. A lot. I’m also betting that she can run pretty hot for the right man.

I am that man. I will be that man. Tonight, if I can help it.

She can sit there with her back to me all she wants, sipping her martini while congratulating herself on her cleverness. Let her enjoy her brief victory. The poor thing doesn’t know that she just took my smoldering fire for her and poured a million gallons of gasoline on it.

But she’ll learn.

“Want me to show you how it’s done?” says my thirty-year-old youngest brother, Ryker, jerking his head in her direction and starting to stand. Just like that, a haze of red filters my vision, and it has nothing to do with the ambience here at Bemelmans.

“Sure,” I say, reaching up to push him back down again with all the force I can muster. “As long as you’re cool with that being your last act on earth.”

This kicks off another round of raucous laughter between Tweedledee and Tweedledum, but a bigger problem materializes in the form of a corporate titan wannabe who sidles up to her table with his cheesy grin firmly in place. I watch and wait to see how she greets him, the tinge of jealousy I just felt with my brother now escalating into a wave of bloodlust.

It’s probably her date. A woman who looks like that doesn’t spent her Friday nights alone.

But she stiffens when he steps into her range of vision. Shakes her head when he leans in and says something to her. Speaks loudly and clearly when he persists:

“Fuck off.”

I register the throaty sound of her voice and the British accent even as my inner caveman takes the lead and propels me to my feet. Pretty ironic, considering I would’ve sworn as recently as ten seconds ago that I’m not the jealous type.

A murmur of dissent rises from my brothers as I head in her direction without another word.

“Keep it cool,” Ryker calls after me. “We’d rather not have to bail you out of jail tonight.”

But I’m on a mission and don’t have the time or inclination to reassure him. I’m not sitting idly by while some SOB in a shiny suit harasses my ice princess right in front of me. Can’t do it.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say, putting a protective arm around the back of her chair and startling them both. Shiny Suit shoots me a glare, but I only have eyes for her and the flare of relief in her expression as she tips her