Page 109 of Captive Audience

A nervous laugh bubbled in my throat. I smothered it with another sip.

“You could’ve warned me,” he said.

My brow pinched. “Warn you about what?”

“That I’d want to drag you somewhere private, tear that pretty dress off, and remind you what it feels like to be properly fucked by your husband.”

“Rook,” I hissed, glancing at the nearby partygoers. “You can’t say things like that in public.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

“I think you just sent that poor lady into heart failure.” I flicked my gaze toward the silver-haired woman gaping at us with her champagne frozen an inch from her lips.

To be fair, she might be experiencing a spontaneous orgasm. I couldn’t be sure.

“And for the record, Ididwarn you,” I added. “It cost twenty grand. What did you expect?”

“It’s not the dress, love. It’syouin the dress.” He shook his head. “Just…don’t leave my side all night. Okay?”

“Why?”

“Because if you’re not with me, I won’t be able to concentrate. I’ll be too busy trying not to murder every asshole who makes the mistake of eye fucking you.”

“Relax.” I shoved my champagne into his hands. “These are your people, aren’t they?”

“Some, aye. But Torin has also invited investors, politicians, and the media.”

“You’re overreacting. Everyone here looks incredible. No one is going to be paying attention to me, especially if you keep glaring at them like that. Stop it!” I slapped Rook on the arm when he gave a guy in a pin-striped tux a scowl that promiseda slow and painful death. “Dial down the attack-dog routine and try to be charming for one night, would you?”

“Charming’s not my specialty, love.”

A gravelly voice interrupted. “Is everything okay?”

I turned and immediately stepped back.

Torin Lynch stood before me, tall and broad shouldered, dressed in charcoal gray and wearing a gold watch that probably cost more than my apartment. His dark hair was swept back, and a close-cut beard sharpened the angles of his face.

I bumped into Rook’s chest, and his hands found my hips, steadying me.

“Everything’s fine,” Rook said smoothly. “Tor, this is?—”

“Miss Asha Sparks.” Torin offered a small smile that was surprisingly warm.

“Mrs. Asha O’Connell,” Rook corrected.

I had to stifle the urge to roll my eyes when Rook’s grip tightened.

“Torin Lynch. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extended a hand, and I shook it, startled when he lifted my knuckles to his lips.

Okay. That was…unexpected. And oddly charismatic.

“Likewise,” I managed.

Rook growled and tugged me back until there was no space between us. His hand flattened possessively across my stomach.

Torin’s eyes glinted as they flicked past me to Rook. “Easy, soldier,” he said with a smirk. “I’m not trying to steal your wife.”

“There are a hundred other women here, Tor. Go flirt with one of them.”