Page 117 of Bossy Wicked Prince

Nate makes a small noise, almost like a growl. For a second, I think he’s going to tell Ryan off for flirting with me…but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even look up.

Fine. I whisk all their empty glasses back to the bar, happy for an excuse to get away from him. I fill four fresh glasses with the round whiskey ice in the freezer, topping them off with two ounces of Twisted Devil. Before I mix Ryan’s martini, I shoot a quick text to Pippa.

Cat

Beau’s a big fat liar. Nate’s here and he’s ignoring me.

Guess it’s better than the alternative.

She doesn’t answer immediately, so I put my phone away. I decide to take Ryan at his word and make two espresso martinis. I deserve it, all things considered.

When I carry the drinks to the table, I’m greeted with three smiling faces, one man staring at the ground, and James.

“Thanks, darling,” Luke croons.

Nate doesn’t say a thing when I put his glass in front of him. He just takes a sip of whiskey.

Beau clears his throat. “Hey Cat, I know you guys went to France, but did you know Nate’s also fluent in Italian and Portuguese?”

Nate coughs, choking on his drink. Ryan pats him on the back.

“Yeah, before we all got busy with work, we used to do these semi-annual trips together,” Luke adds. “Nate was always the planner. We went to Peru, Japan, Morocco…”

“When we were in Italy, he figured out how to sneak us into the Sistine Chapel after it closed,” Ryan says. “I swore we were going to get caught and executed by those crazy Swiss guards, but nobody saw us. It was actually pretty magical.”

They all stare at me expectantly, like I should clap or something. I just awkwardly shift my weight from one foot to the other, still balancing my own espresso martini on the tray.

Because I don’t need more reasons to like Nate. That was never the problem—I always thought he was fascinating, cultured, and intelligent.

But not even the prospect of him whispering sweet nothings in Italian can make up for him looking into my Dad and invading my privacy.

“Well, enjoy your drinks,” I say awkwardly.

Before I can go back to the bar, Ryan grabs my hand and pulls me back to him.

“Stay! I need a good luck charm,” he pleads.

I bite my lip. There’s no reason for me to listen to him, but part of me wants to stay for the game. I do enjoy the guys’ company, and it’ll make the next few hours go faster if I stay to chat. Besides, Nate’s ignoring me anyway. I might as well be ignored at a shorter distance.

“Okay,” I say.

Ryan grins and pats his legs. “There’s a free seat here if you want it.”

My face goes hot from annoyance and embarrassment. I know exactly why Ryan’s doing this—he’s trying to make Nate jealous. Whatever Parent Trap stunt Beau’s trying to pull, it’s obvious all the guys are in on it.

I’m guessing Nate didn’t tell them I broke up with him for stalking me.

“Let her have her own chair,” Beau says. He looks a little guilty for setting this up, as he should.

“But I want her to blow on my cards!” Ryan insists.

“That’s craps, not poker,” Luke says.

James gets up and grabs a chair from one of the unused tables. He pushes it in between Ryan and Nate, gesturing for me to sit.

God, I didn’t think this through. I don’t know if I can handle being this close to Nate. I already feel a little lightheaded from how fast my heart’s beating. But I don’t have a choice—it’s this or Ryan’s lap.

Reluctantly, I slide into the chair. Nate doesn’t so much as move a muscle, but I can feel his presence like a physical touch. I take a long sip of my espresso martini—I’m going to need some liquid courage to make it through this. The bittersweet flavor is cool and smooth on my tongue.