Page 133 of Burn Bright

He lets out an annoyed breath, then peers back at Tom. “What do you want to drink?”

Tom’s brows spike. He points at himself where a silver skull necklace hangs against his black muscle tee. “Me?”

“No, the bodyguard behind you.” He jerks a thumb to the towering guy that’s standing directly behind Tom. “Because I’m sure he’s allowed to drink on the job.”

I am thoroughly lost now. “How do you know he’s a bodyguard?”

This maybe-dancer looksdownat me as if the mouse on the floor just decided to squeak. “Who are you?”

“Harriet,” I snap into a scowl. “Who are you?”

Tom’s eyes bug so wide at me like I’m making a fool of myself. I don’t understand. Does this guy piss gold or something? He seems to be a grade A asshole from my point of view.

“She’s new,” Tom says swiftly. “Tonight was her first time watching an NYBC ballet.”

“What a shame.” The maybe-dancer gives me a tense smile. “Your first would’ve been better tomorrow night when I’m the lead.” He outstretches a hand for me to shake. “Leo Valavanis.”

I hold in a breath. This is…messy. Tonight, Beckett danced the lead male role, and I recognize the clear shot taken at Ben’s older brother. The literal Birthday Boy tonight. No way am I touching Leo, not even with the tip of my pinky.

Five seconds pass, and he drops his hand like he never offered it to begin with. He turns his attention back to Tom in a casual, cool way. “Drink?”

“Yeah, uh, sure.” Tom bops his head to the beat of the music, but he’s clearly into whatever charming asshole vibes Leo is projecting. “Vodka and Fizz.”

“I’ll take a Modelo,” I tell Leo, shooting my shot. Hey, there’s a ten percent chanceI’mgoing to be the one to get a bartender over here.

Leo doesn’t let on if he heard me, but he pulls himself halfway over the bar again. “Marjorie!” he yells. “I’m grabbing the Grey Goose!”

“No, you are not, LV!” The brunette whirls toward us in a rush, then swats his back off the bar. “What do you want?”

“Two vodka and Cokes. And a Shirley Temple for the shortie.” He points at me in the middle of him and Tom. My face flames.

“He means a Modelo,” I correct.

Marjorie scans me in a quick sweep, then offers a pitying smile. “Sorry, hun. That won’t fly with me.”Great, so why am I standing here?She starts pouring the Grey Goose when I feel a body walk up behind me. At first I think it might be Ben, until I glance up to see Beckett’s chiseled, angelic jawline and hardened expression. I’ve found it’s scarier when someone like Beckett—who’s considered the calmest of the Cobalt Empire—goes nuclear. And right now, he ispissed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Beckett snaps at Leo.

Oh, I really don’t want to be in the middle of this. But it appears I’m stuck between Tom and Leo with Beckettrightbehind me. No way out.

Leo leans a casual elbow on the bar. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“He’s fine, Beckett,” Tom interjects. “Harmless, even.”

Leo throws a hand toward Tom. “See that—I amharmlesslybuying your little brother a drink.” The smile crawling across his face is just for Beckett. A big FU.

Beckett glowers. “You’re going to walk away.”

“And why would I do that?” Leo asks into a laugh. “You don’t own this bar, Cobalt.”

“It’s my birthday,” Beckett reminds him, and I think that Leo might just laugh even harder. But something passes between their eyes. Understanding? I can’t read body language as well as Ben, but it’s clear these two have bucketloads of history.

Leo smiles. “Sure,” he says, then tips his head to the side. “See you around, Tom.”

Tom up-nods but concentrates mostly on the drinks being poured.

Leo lingers like he’s considering recapturing Tom’s attention, but Beckett angles himself at Leo in a show of dominance and masculine posturing. Then he says one firm, “No.”

I’m guessing this dissuades Leo since he just looks down at me. “Shortie.” He leaves at that dumb insult, and I pin my glare to his fucking back. Ugh.