Or is she going to be your piece on the side during our marriage?”
It’s a comment to show me how much she doesn’t care about me. But it doesn’t bother me because I know it’s fake. This whole tough outer shell thing is phony. Because in her heart, she still loves me.
I know, because what we had was so damn special it can survive its toughest rival—doubt. I would know.
I grin and take her hand, leading her to the dance floor.
When I pull her into my arms, to my surprise, she doesn’t try to fight it. In fact, she slides her arms around me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Feeling her curves pressed against me, my cock begins to thicken. Being this close is torture. Pure, beautiful torture.
As we dance, Bella looks around the crowded room.
“I didn’t realize I had so many friends. Do you think anyone bought us a toaster?”
“I don’t think they’re toaster-type people,” I say, loving the feel of her skin against mine as we dance.
“Hmmmm, I think you’re right. They’ve probably bought us silverware. Or diamonds.” She’s looking around the room at all the wealthy guests. “A vineyard, perhaps?”
“Do you care?”
Her gaze finds mine. “Not particularly.”
“Material things don’t matter to you, do they?”
“Not in the slightest.” She smiles. “How perceptive of you.”
“You forget, I know you better than you know yourself.”
She simply scoffs.
“You don’t believe me?” I ask.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, let’s see about that.”
Her eyes sparkle with a challenge. “Okay, Mr. Perception, tell me about myself.”
My eyes fix to hers.
Challenge accepted.
I hold her tighter. “I know that right now you’re trying your best to look unaffected by me.”
“I am unaffected by you.” She looks away, but I can see her racing pulse in her neck.
She’s as affected as fuck by me.
Just as I am with her.
My cock is fully hard now.
He and I are both having too much fun.
So the tap on my shoulder couldn’t come at a worse time.
It’s Anastacia.
“You have a phone call,” she says, holding up her business phone.
“It can wait,” I say.
“It’s Tate from Green Scope. It can’t wait.”
Green Scope is a company I’m buying. It is a business deal worth million if it goes through.
I look at Bella. “Do you mind?”
She shrugs like she could not care less, and it annoys me.
Because I want her to care.
I leave her by the ice sculpture and take the phone call outside. I talk business for a few minutes, important shit, but I am too distracted to give it the attention it needs because I want to get back to Bella.
When I return to the ballroom, I see her dancing with Senator Fitzgerald—a rapacious squirrel of a man, but a good looking one at that—and my jaw clenches. I don’t like the way he is looking at her. Or the way she is looking up at him. Fuck, is she flirting? Jealousy spikes in my blood, and a volatile darkness crawls into my brain.
Just as I’m about to storm over to them, Amélie steps into my line of vision and hands me a whisky. “I see you might have some competition. Here, this should help.”
I grit my teeth, and my fingers tighten around the whisky tumbler in my hand as my thoughts darken.
I act without thinking.
I stalk cross the vast room and interrupt them, turning my blazing eyes to Fitzgerald.
“I think you’d better get your fucking hands off my fiancée.”
11
Bella
He bundles me into the limousine and slides in across from me. His mood is black, and I wonder if he is furious at me for disobeying his requests after all.
“Senator Fitzgerald.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What about him?”
“You were dancing very close.”
My eyes narrow. “Not really.”
“Are you interested in him?”
“Are you insane?”
“Answer me.”
Something in his tone makes me drop my defensiveness. “No.”
His jaw ticks. “Good.”
I watch him, heat warming the blood in my veins as I take in the look of jealousy clouding his face.
“If dancing equates to interest, then I should be jealous about you and Amélie. Every time I turn around you seem to be with her.”
I make every attempt to not sound jealous. Because I’m not. Really. I simply hate the one rule for him and one rule for me bullshit.
“Amélie is no threat to you.”
“Of course, she isn’t,” I reply coolly. “To say she is would be to imply that I have some kind of romantic interest in you.”
His face tightens and the storm deepens in his eyes.
“You’re jealous,” I say.
“Yes. And it’s not an emotion I’m used