Page 96 of Captive Audience

A half-drunk bottle of water sat on the armrest of his chair. Good lad. Beasts on protective detail were forbidden to drink.

I zeroed in on a glassy-eyed Asha. Despite the cool evening air, her fair skin was flushed.

Fantastic. My wife was drunk.

“How many has she had?” I asked Finn.

“Shecan answer for herself.” Asha sat taller. “I’ve had three.No, wait.” She counted off on her fingers, paused, then counted again. “Four. Plus champagne at lunch.”

Christ almighty.

Finn held his palms up. “She ate first. I made sure.”

Orla sipped her wine. “After dress shopping, we had lunch at Maison Lumière. It wastrès magnifique.” She made a chef’s kiss gesture and sighed.

“I know.” I pinned my cousin with a look. “I saw the thirteen-grand charge to my credit card.”

She raised her glass. “That would be the two bottles of aged Dom Pérignon.”

“Uh-oh.” Asha covered her grin. “Bad Sugar Daddy looks mad that we spent his money.”

Bad Sugar Daddy? What the fuck?

And I wasn’t mad.

I was jealous.

Orla and Finn had spent the whole day with Asha, wining and dining and by all appearances having a grand time. The trio looked thick as thieves.

I wanted to be the one putting that smile on her face.

I wanted to be the one getting all of Asha’s attention.

I’d had it for one night, and fuck me, it was the best of my life. What did I have to do to earn it again?

Asha licked her lips. “So you’re not upset about the five-thousand-dollar tip?”

I blinked. “What was so fantastic it earned five grand, Wife?”

“Philippe.” Asha let out a dreamy sigh. “He was amazing, Rook. Worth every penny.”

Visions of an overchatty server making eyes at my woman clouded my vision red. “Was he?” My voice hardened. “Philippe better be the name of the duck you ate for lunch and not some flirty French wanker; otherwise I’ll put him through a mincer and burn the restaurant to ash.”

“Jaysus.” Orla shook her head.

Asha sipped her wine, eyes glimmering with smug satisfaction.

You little witch.

The drink must’ve made her bold, but if she knew whatpunishment I had in mind for her, she’d be a hell of a lot more contrite.

I dragged in a breath. “Anyone want to tell me what was so funny when I walked in?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a knot.” Orla rested her wineglass on the side table. “I was just telling these guys about the time you shot Penny Malone in the arse with your slingshot. Do you remember how she beat the shite out of you, then made you strip naked and walk home cupping your cock and balls?”

That set them off again.

I crossed my arms. “Kinda hard to forget something like that, Orla. Thanks for bringing it up.”