Page 10

Vince Moretti is a relic of the past. A childhood crush that is all but forgotten. Holden Braddock is my future.

I arrive at Deseo just before seven to find Holden, looking impeccable in black slacks and a light-blue dress shirt that effortlessly compliments his eyes, waiting outside for me. His hair is styled down and straight, and splayed over his muscular shoulders.

Good God, he’s perfect.

Holden greets me with a dazzling smile. “, you look fantastic.” He leans in and kisses both of my cheeks.

“Thanks,” I reply with a blush, hoping the ridiculous amount of money I spent on this Kai Milla evening dress was worth it. I loop my arm through Holden’s, and together, we approach the restaurant entrance. “I have reservations under the name Scott, please,” I say.

The host looks up, his eyes wide, but his excitement fades when he realizes I’m not with David. “Of course, Miss Scott. Right this way, please.”

He leads us to a cozy little table on the terrace surrounded by plants and fairy lights. It’s perfect. After being given menus, and a glass carafe of iced water, the server leaves Holden and me to decide on our meals.

“So, how have you been?” I inquire.

A frown mars Holden’s gorgeous face. “Busy. I’ve had clients coming in nonstop and have Nike and Adidas competing for sponsorship deals.”

“Sounds stressful,” I reply sympathetically, knowing how vital Holden’s work is to him.

“Yeah, and that’s not even mentioning the problems I’ve been having with this other trainer and the apartment I rent?—”

My eyes glaze over as Holden drones on and on. What happened to the fun, endearing guy I’ve been chatting to online? It’s like he’s morphed into a completely different person now that we’re meeting face-to-face.

“…And I found if you use a leave-in conditioner and argan oil right after washing your hair—” he says, now running through his hair care routine. Like I’m even remotely interested?

A commotion at the door grabs my attention, and I turn my head at the same time every other woman in the room seems to rotate in their seats. All eyes are focused on the entrance, where someone stands in a smart black suit, looking immaculate. Apparently, there’s some celebrity or something asking to be let in. And then I see who that celebrity is.

Vince. What in the actual fuck?

Did David put him up to this? My frustration at Holden transforms into full-on annoyance at Vince when he strides across the restaurant—every female eye following his progress, some onlookers with their mouths agape—and approaches my table. Thirsty bitches.

“Let’s go, Princess,” he says in a no-nonsense tone.

I bristle at the childhood nickname but feign indifference. Then, tossing my long black hair over my shoulder, I say, “Do I know you?”

Vince smirks. “Oh, you know me very well, .”

I glance away dismissively, my attention turning back to Holden, who—to my dismay—looks utterly starstruck. Have I been catfished? This can’t be the same guy I met online. Ugh. I need to deal with one issue at a time.

“I’m sorry about this, Holden. I have no idea who this guy is.”

My date’s eyes widen. “I do.”

Faking ignorance, I say, “Oh, is he a friend of yours or something?” I glance back at Vince, barely able to contain the grin on my lips.

“Quit playing games, . You know exactly who I am. I’m not an easy man to forget, after all.” He flashes a devastatingly handsome smile that makes my knees weak.

It doesn’t matter how hot he is; he’s still an asshole.

“You’re wrong there. I wouldn’t be able to pick you out of a crowd,” I reply with my eyes trained on the table, knowing if I look into Vince’s sparkling blues, the game is up.

“Sure you wouldn’t, Estelle Scott.” He uses my entire name to prove without a doubt he knows me, but I simply laugh.

“Oh, come on, anyone with the internet could have looked up my full name. It doesn’t take a genius. Not that there’s one here,” I quip.

Vince frowns and clenches his fists. “Stop acting like a little brat before I bend you over my knee and spank your ass.”

I feel liquid heat pool between my legs at the mental image he’s creating, but I refuse to let him get to me. Gripping my steak knife for emphasis, I lean back in my chair and coolly reply, “Try it… and I’ll stab you.” My voice is deceptively sweet, as is my smile.

“Oh, I’d love to disarm you in a room full of people, Princess,” Vince declares, grabbing my wrist and applying pressure so that I have no choice but to drop the utensil.

He pulls me from my chair and leans in, mere inches from my face. Then, pressing his body to mine, he forces me against the table. As Vince moves in closer, he’s pinning me to the furniture’s edge, and I barely resist the instinct to wrap my leg around his hip and grind my needy pussy along the bulge I see in his pants.

Do not go there, .

From the corner of my eye, I catch Holden staring at us, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. I can only imagine what he must be thinking.

“That was fucking hot,” he blurts with an awestruck smile on his face. Vince smirks while I scowl at both of them. Unbelievable!

“Let’s go, Princess. Before I throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”

“I’d like to see you try,” I threaten, my arousal steadily transitioning into anger once more.

“One way or another, we’re leaving this restaurant,” Vince insists.

“And then what? You’re going to drag me back to my brother like a good little girl. I don’t believe you. You’re both insane.”

“You know it’s not safe here,” Vince says, and his eyes darken. This isn’t just about getting under my skin and playing silly mind games. He’s serious.

I sigh in resignation. “Fine.” I sound like a petulant child, but I don’t care.

Vince finally straightens, and for a brief instant, I miss the feeling of his powerful body pressed against mine. However, I ignore that thought and straighten out the wrinkles in my dress.

“Holden, I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure, but even before my brother’s friend showed up, this date was going nowhere. A tip for the future, maybe with the next woman you date, ask her a little about herself instead of prattling on and on about yourself. And your hair.”

Holden’s mouth opens and closes like a goldfish, while Vince chuckles. Then without another glance at either of them, I hold my head high and stride out of the restaurant. I know everyone is watching. Let them watch. I’m Estelle Scott, and I have nothing to be embarrassed about.

I find Vince’s black SUV waiting for us in the parking lot, and I can’t help but wonder what he has planned. Is he going to take me back to David or something else? A thrill shoots down my spine as I recall our most recent interaction and how hot it was, even with everyone watching.

God, get a grip, .

Ten years ago, I swore never to give Vince Moretti another moment of my time. That’s not about to change just because he’s managed to make my heart race like no other man ever has. Or could.