Page 17 of Beneath the Blue Moon

***Ethan***

Fuck! I should have known Mother would pull a stunt like

this. I can feel Casey pulling away, and not just physically.

“What did she say to you, Shae?”

“Only to meet you here. Obviously, you weren’t expecting me.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, now that I’m here—”

“Go home.”

“But, Ethan….”

She pouts her shiny, red lips at me. It’s never worked

before, and it’s not about to work now.

“Go home. You and my mother need to stop. It’s not going to

happen. I’m not interested, and neither is he.”

For the first time since I’ve known her, she displays some

emotion. Her lips tremble, and she blinks back tears. Damn it.

“Look… You’re a beautiful woman. It just won’t work between

us.”

“Don’t give me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech. Spare me.

I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

Her lips are wishing me well, but her eyes say otherwise.

She spins on her heels and storms out. We both know she’s not the one, but she

has her eyes set on that alpha title, and I don’t need that kind of woman in my

life.

I can feel Charlie’s eyes on me. I turn to where he’s

sitting and see the nervous look on his face. Casey’s next to him, her arm

linked through his. She’s smiling and animatedly chattering away about the New

York party scene. I nod, indicating he’s fine. He nods in understanding and

joins the conversation. I pick up my drink and start to make my way over to

them. Before I’m even halfway there, she jumps up, pulling on Charlie’s arm.

“Come on!” she urges.

With a sigh, he slides out of the booth. She giggles and drags

him to the dance floor. Sitting across from Brick, I watch as she throws her

arms around Charlie’s neck. Is she trying to make me jealous? I trust Charlie

implicitly, but I can’t help the possessive feelings stirring in me. She’s mine.

I walk over to them and tap his shoulder. Without a word, Charlie steps out of

her embrace and heads back to the booth. As I pull her into my arms, she looks

into my eyes.

“Where’s your friend?” she asks.

“I sent her home.”

“Oh? You sent her?”

“I told her to go home.”

“And people always do what you say?”

I shrug indifferently. “Pretty much.”

“I see.”

“It’s just my mother playing matchmaker. There’s nothing

there.”

“For you, maybe.”

“Well, I’m not going to lead her on. She’ll only end up

being more hurt in the end.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she agrees. “She doesn’t seem like

your type anyway.”

“Oh? How would you know my type?”

“You seem pretty down to earth. She… she thinks who she is.”

“She thinks who she is? Are you missing a word there? Maybe

a few?”

“Ha-ha. It’s a Staten Island thing.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means she seems like a snob.”

“You thought we were involved. Is that what your little show

was about?”

“What little show?”

“With Charlie.”

“I happen to like Charlie.”

“Mm-hmm.” I chuckle.

“What? He’s handsome, funny, smart—”

“Yes, he’s all those things and more.”

“But?”

“But… he’s not me.”