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“She has nothing to do with it,” I tell him. “I just didn’t feel like going.”
He snorts. “Bullshit. You were more than willing to accept an invitation, so why didn’t you go? Couples are welcome at the club, you know. First session’s on me.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Why? Is she not into it or something?”
The image hits me before I can stop it. Amara in the club, her hand in mine, her cheeks flushed as I lead her inside. The thought sends a rush of heat through my body, and I have to clench my fists to steady myself. My assistant has no idea who I am and what I like to do when she packs her bag and leaves the office. Orlikedto do, I should say.
“She doesn’t know about it,” I admit, wanting him to shut the fuck up already. Thinking about Amara that way is not fucking good. The world might think she’s my fiancée, but she’s still my assistant. My very off-limits assistant.
Ethan hums, a smirk curling on his lips. “Interesting. And what do you think she’d say if she did?”
I grind my teeth, attempting to force the image of her out of my mind. Amara isn’t the type of woman who belongs in a place like that. She’s… soft. Sweet. Innocent in a way that makes me feel like the biggest bastard on the planet for even thinking about her this way.
“Drop it, Ethan,” I warn him.
“Relax.” He nudges my shoulder. The bastard’s enjoying this way too much. “I’ve gotta admit though, it’s kind of fun seeingyou like this. All wound up over a woman. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Were you not listening when I told you it’s not real?” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “Nothing’s going on between us.”
He chuckles, low and dark and fucking annoying. “So, you’re telling me you’re not interested?”
Christ, I feel a headache coming on. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I lie through my fucking teeth.
His eyes flick to Amara, and he whistles, a slow, cocky grin spreading across his face. “You’re out of your mind,” he mutters, eyes raking over her. “She’s cute as fuck in her usual black skirt, but tonight…” He groans, his voice deepening, making my blood boil.
“Ethan,” I warn.
“What?” His grin widens. “Nothing’s going on between you two, right?”
I don’t reply, and he takes that as a challenge.
Without missing a beat, he crosses the space toward her, and I watch, teeth clenched, as he speaks to her. She smiles up at him and he takes her hand in his, kissing her knuckles.
I clench my fists, my knuckles cracking, and my teeth grind together. Why the hell does the thought of him touching her—of him flirting with her—infuriate me so much?
He looks back at me, still grinning, and winks.
I lose it.
I storm across the room, my hand grabbing the front of his jacket and yank him away from her. Before he can even react, I land a punch right into his arm.
“What the hell man?”
“Stare at my fiancée like that again, and I’ll deck you. Friendship be damned.”
Ethan laughs, rubbing his arm. “I thought you said you weren’t interested?”
I grit my teeth, my patience snapping. “Shut the fuck up.”
Before I can stop myself, I cross the room, my gaze locked on her fiery orange hair, gleaming under the lights. My heart thuds in my chest when she turns around, her eyes meeting mine.
“Ladies,” I say, cutting through their conversation as I approach Amara and gently take her arm. “If you’ll excuse us.” I pull her away, the tension in her body easing as I lead her further from the group. “Fun conversations?” I ask with a smirk, raising an eyebrow.
She lets out a soft laugh, her shoulders relaxing. “They all had a million questions about the wedding, and I had no idea what to say,” she admits, shaking her head slightly. “Did you know flowers need to be booked twelve weeks before the wedding?” she asks, her voice incredulous. “That’s three months away.”
I chuckle, amused. “I didn’t know that, actually,” I reply. “Good thing we won’t be getting married.”