Page 76 of Billionaire's Promise

"Guess you guys were getting reacquainted?" Sinclair drawls.

"How did you guess?" I say wryly.

"So, what’s the verdict?" Weston interjects. "You guys kissed and made up yet?"

We glare at each other.

Damian side-steps a broken bottle, then leans his elbow on a clear patch of the bar counter. "Or, if you want to go another round—"

"That won’t be necessary," Saint snaps.

I tilt my head.

He blows out a breath. "Much as I hate to be beholden to you for anything, seems you did protect me from getting badly hurt."

"I’ll pay for the damages," I offer stiffly.

"That won’t be necessary," he retorts.

"So, you guys gonna shake or what?" Arpad glances at his watch, "I gotta get out of here in half an hour."

"Newlyweds." Sinner tsks.

"Better enjoy it before the kids come along." Damian chuckles.

Arpad scowls at them. "Relax, you guys. Let me enjoy my time with my new bride without all of you getting on my balls."

I snicker. "Oh, she has you by the balls all right, brother."

"Look who’s talking." Arpad smirks. "You’re in as much trouble as the rest of us, ol’ chap."

"Hey, hey," I hold up my hands, "I came here on a work thing, so can we get to that?"

"Once you shake," Damian insists. "Go on," he urges me, "get it over with so we can get to what you want to discuss."

"Yeah, fine." I roll my shoulders, grab Saint’s hand. We shake.

Saint jerks his chin. "I’ll be watching you."

"Just as long as you can help me keep an eye on her."

"Thought you were doing that?" He frowns.

"Yeah, about that…" I shuffle my feet.

He releases my hand, fixes me with an impenetrable gaze. "What’s up?" He scowls. "It must be something very important that made you walk in here and make peace."

"I wasn’t the one who harbored hard feelings," I remind him.

He looks like he is about to protest, then nods. "I still haven’t forgiven you for what you did, but if your woman is in danger…"

"Not my woman," I snap.

Saint stares at me, then his face cracks in a smile.

I stare, "That wasn’t a joke, you wanker."

Saint bends, then pulls out a bottle of Macallan’s from under the bar. He pushes the broken glass pieces to the side, slams the bottle on the table. Damian grabs a few glasses from the far end of the bar, lines them on the counter. Saint tops up the glasses, then hands me one.