Page 7

Roxanne

“ H e’s a jerk,” I mutter after ordering a Cosmo at the bar.

The dinner was an awkward sequence of clipped sentences and long silences between Leonard and me.

After his outburst, the tension at the table was palpable, and no one was up for a cheerful conversation.

Luckily, that torture ended half an hour ago.

Now, I must survive the rest of the evening, but at least I can avoid killing Mr. Jerk altogether.

“It must be pretty boring company if you’re at the bar alone talking to yourself.” A warm voice distracts me from my murderous thoughts.

As I turn towards the man, my gaze meets two stunning blue eyes.

Taking my time to assess him, a smile slowly spreads across my face.

He’s handsome, with curly blonde hair and a couple of dimples on his tanned face.

Though he’s wearing a black tie, he’s not in a tuxedo, which is a breath of fresh air.

He exudes a surfer vibe that I find appealing.

Maybe tonight won’t be a complete waste after all, and I can let loose and have some fun.

“Worse, he’s a pain in my ass,” I admit.

His smile becomes almost shy, like he is embarrassed to be here with me.

“So, there is a he . Not my lucky night.” His bravado fades a bit, making him almost cute.

“It’s not what you think. I’m not linked to this guy in any way, but that doesn’t mean he’s pleasant company,” I explain.

His smile comes back in full force. “So, can I offer you a drink?”

“I already have a Cosmo, but you can keep me company.”

He orders a club soda from the barman, who brings my order. He leans on the counter, closing the distance between us a bit. He smells good too—something woodsy with an undertone of the saltiness of the beach.

“So, besides the asshole, are you enjoying the evening?” he asks.

“It’s becoming more interesting by the minute.” I nod, and his grin widens.

He sips at his soda and studies me. “So, what do you do here in Los Angeles? Are you an actress?”

“What gave you that idea?” I chuckle. I’m many things, but I’m sure as hell not able to act for a living.

He seems taken aback. “Sorry if I assumed that. You’re very attractive, and I thought you were trying that route.”

“Well, that’s a bit sexist, don’t you think? But thank you for calling me attractive, I guess.”

He rubs a hand behind his neck and looks sheepishly my way.

“It came out wrong. I didn’t mean that an attractive girl has to be an actress.

But I live in Los Angeles and all the good-looking girls I know are aspiring actresses,” he tries to explain and somehow I get his point.

Most of the waitresses I know in this city are drop-dead gorgeous and, as he said, aspiring actresses. I can’t be mad at him for assuming it.

I also don’t have to marry this guy. I want to have fun tonight, and I don’t have to go home with him for that.

“I get it, don’t worry. But to answer your question, I work with computers.” I always use vague terms to describe my job.

Most people are content with my answer, and if they express further interest, I delve deeper into the technicalities.

However, often people lose interest in my explanations.

But, when I come across someone who can match my knowledge and engage in a stimulating conversation, I truly enjoy myself.

Unfortunately, the person I am currently talking to is not one of those individuals.

Despite my attempts to give him the opportunity to carry the conversation further, he smiles and nods without asking any more questions.

“What about you? What do you do for a living?” I try to keep the banter going, hoping to spark more interest.

“I work for my father’s firm.”

I wait for a further explanation that doesn’t come. I guess neither of us wants to dig deeper into our personal life.

“Do you want to dance?” he asks when the song switches to a slower one, and the silence between us becomes awkward.

I suppose it’s better than avoiding a conversation that didn’t take off.

I don’t particularly feel the need to learn more about him.

I’m not even bothered that he didn’t ask for my name or offer his own.

Plus, I can feel Leonard staring at me from the other side of this dimly lit, crowded place.

Sulking like I was the one offending him somehow and not the other way around. Fuck Leonard, I’m having fun tonight.

“Yes, sure!” I smile and guide him to the middle of the dance floor.

The crowd is entirely different from the one you would find in a club. Nobody is sensually grinding against each other. The soft jazz sound is perfect for a slow dance.

The surfer boy wastes no time and pulls me close to his chest, placing a hand on my lower back, where my exposed skin is more sensitive. He holds me tightly, and I struggle to keep my distance and avoid getting stuck to his chest.

We sway to the rhythm of the orchestra, and I look around at the crowd surrounding us. The older couples keep a respectful distance from each other, and I feel self-conscious about how we appear to prying eyes—all over each other.

I push my hands against his chest and force a few inches of space between our bodies.

It doesn’t last long. In fact, his head lowers on my shoulder, and his hot breath hits the exposed skin.

While I usually appreciate this closeness with a hot guy, this feels more creepy than intimate.

The last straw is his hand making its way onto my ass, squeezing lightly.

I push him firmly and look at him dead in the eyes. “What the hell are you doing?” I murmur to avoid attracting attention.

He smirks. “Come on, don’t play hard to get. I don’t like that game.”

Anger fills my chest, and it takes all my strength not to slap him. “I’m not playing anything. I don’t want your hands on me. I agreed to one dance, not being groped in the middle of a crowd.”

He chuckles, disbelief covering his face. “You don’t dress like that and not want to be fucked. You’re begging for it.”

I scoff. “Are you serious right now?”

“You’re a tease, you know that?” He sounds annoyed.

At this point, we are not even dancing anymore.

He dropped the nice mask, and now he’s just plain disappointed I’m not on my knee sucking him off.

What a prick. He doesn’t even deserve my time.

I step back to turn around and walk away from him, but he grabs my wrist and forcefully drags me to his chest.

“Don’t be stupid. Do you want to ruin your sister’s party?” he snaps.

So he knows who I am. Was that his plan all along? To fuck Raphael’s sister-in-law to get close to him? Or to get revenge for something?

I don’t have time to ask him because Leonard’s deep voice interrupts our conversation. “Let her go now, or I’ll break every single finger in your hand before I start on the other bones.”

I turn around, and Leonard’s serene face starkly contrasts with the menacing tone of his words.

The guy scoffs. “Do you know who I am?”

Leonard’s lips tip up on a corner. It’s the closest I’ve seen to him smiling.

“I know exactly who you are, and I’m not sure your daddy will be fine with you pissing off his best client.

” He tilts his head toward a white-haired man with a scowl.

“You fucked and dumped his daughter, am I correct? He’ll be happy to run to your father and tell him you’re groping a woman against her will. The senator’s sister-in-law, no less.”

The surfer boy pales, and his mouth scrunches in a grimace. He turns around and walks away without a word or a glance in my direction.

I sigh in relief. “Thank you for helping me out. I’ll stick close to the bar from now on,” I tell Leonard, peeking up at his eyes.

He is worried. He doesn’t show it through his relaxed posture and hands in his pockets, but his eyes are loud and clear.

“Or you can dance with me,” he suggests.

His proposal floors me. As of an hour ago, he couldn’t stand my presence.

“Why should I?” I frown.

“Because right now, people are noticing that something’s going on. We could dance, and it would seem like I’m taking over, wanting to dance with you. Or you could storm off, and people will be speculating about what happened and stirring up drama at your sister’s party.”

I look around and see what he means. Other guests are starting stare at us.

“Fine.” I give up.

He extends his hand towards me, and I hesitantly take it. His hand is large and rough to the touch. I had always assumed he prioritizes his appearance, but feeling his calloused hand surprises me. He doesn’t spend money on something as frivolous as a manicure.

The other hand reaches behind my back, placing its warm imprint at a respectful distance from my butt.

He keeps a safe few inches between us, but I can feel the heat radiating from his body and the manly scent of his cologne.

There is something powerful and protective in the way he is holding me. I feel small and safe in his arms.

He guides me, swaying to the music and giving me the impression he knows exactly what he is doing. How many women has he held like this at parties? And why is the thought of his hands on another woman’s body bugging me?

My free hand travels up his firm arm and stops at his wide shoulder. Every movement enhances his toned body. I’ve never seen him without clothes, but I can make out the shape of his pecs through the tight shirt hugging his body. I should stop staring at his chest.

I look up, and I realize I made a mistake.

His grey eyes roam over my face, hungry and desperate to go lower, so much lower on my body.

His lips are set in a thin line, his brow furrowed in what seems like concentration, but it’s the tick in his jaw that gives him away.

He is trying to restrain himself, but from what?

Barking at me? Running away from this dance floor?

Kissing me? Every one of those is a possibility because his expression is so hard to read.