Page 21 of Closer

CHAPTER TEN

CHEERS DARLIN’

LEVI

“Meow yourself,” I say, as Angry French Girl joins me at the bar. The reception is due to start any minute, and I’m sure she’s supposed to be greeting the guests with the sound of her cello as they arrive, but it seems AFG didn’t get the memo about the reception starting early—at least for me, anyway. She smiles at the bartender and orders in French. Fuck. That’s hot, and if I weren’t so goddam miserable, I’d push her up against the bar and tell her she was going to be a little late in starting her set.

I don’t know if she’s deliberately flirting with the help, and fuck knows what the hell they’re saying, but I don’t like the way he looks at her. I don’t like the dismissive way she looks at me, so I slam my glass down on the bar and jerk my head at the waiter.

His arrogant gaze slides to me, then back to AFG, as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?”

“Fill it up, sweetheart.” I shoot him a wink. He looks horrified. “And keep ’em coming.”

“Are you taking my advice to sleep with a French man after all?”

“That depends. Are you finally going to give me your room number, because I should warn you now, I am an expert at navigating threesomes.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. It just so happens I’m so good at sharing, that I gave away the bride to that fucking douchebag Ryan.”

“Okay, well good luck with that,” she says, but her eyes are no longer on me, they’re firmly fixed on the bartender, as if she’s commiserating with him. “Excuse me, I have to tune my instrument.”

I nod to the cello resting in its stand against the far wall of the room. “You’re good.”

“No, I am the best.”

I chuckle. “I have no doubt.”

“Too bad you’ll never find out how true that statement really is.” She walks away.

I slide off the bar stool and grab her wrist, pulling her up short. “You need to stop walking away from me, Angry French Girl.”

She glances coolly at her wrist held in mine. “And you need to learn how to take a hint,roi de la chatte.”

The bartender makes a choking sound, and I have no idea what she just called me, but I want to hear it again and again, as I pound my dick inside her. I’m just about to extend the invitation when we’re interrupted by a geriatric giant.

“Levi! What the fuck, man? I’ve been looking for you all over.”Zed.

“Fucking, cock blocker,” I hiss.

“Hey, you’re the cellist.” Zed points to AFG, unable to take the fucking hint that he’s not welcome here. “You’re really good.”

“Merci.”

“Do you have a card or something?”

“Oui, one moment.” She holds up a finger to indicate he should wait and she pulls a business card from her tiny purse and hands it to him.Fucking arsehole. I’m trying for a whole twenty-four hours to get a number out of this woman, and Zed accomplishes it in two seconds flat. “Excusez-moi. I have to go, or I’m afraid I will be fired.”

She slinks off. I yank the card out of Zed’s hand and study it.Brielle Kagawa. That’s not a French name. Or ... maybe it’s only half a French name. Underneath is her phone number. I pull out my phone and save it to my contacts. “Thanks, I’ve been looking for this.”

“You’re welcome.” He gives me one of those child-like grins and claps me on the shoulder. “Now come on, they need us for photos.”

“I’m not taking any fucking photos. Red and Ryan don’t want me messing up the snapshots of their happy day, anyway.”

Fuck. Even their names match.Arseholes.

And just like that, I’m reminded all too keenly why alcohol is going to be my girl tonight.