Peter Reardon follows her, and they head to the bar.
I’m right behind them, staying just far enough away that they won’t notice me unless someone pounces on me to kiss my ass, which happens a lot at these kinds of events. Someone’s always trying to get a hand in my pocket. I’m generous by nature, but tonight, I hope like hell no one notices me.
I’m behind them now, and I can hear their conversation. The bartender hands Peter a Guinness and what appears to be a Wild Turkey for Skye.
“What’s your name?” Skye asks her companion.
“What?” Peter yells.
For God’s sake, asshole, I can hear her. But my senses are on high alert. I could hear Skye whisper at this point.
“What’s your name?” she asks again.
“Peter. You?”
“Skye.”
“Nice to meet you.” He hands her the bourbon.
Skye takes a sip. “What do you do, Peter?”
“What?”
For crying out loud.
“I’m an architect. I work for my father, also an architect. You?”
“I work for Addison Ames.”
“The heiress?”
“Yeah. I’m her personal assistant, but I’m really a photographer at heart. That’s what I want to do full-time eventually.”
“What?”
“I said I’m her personal assistant. But I want to eventually make a living as a photographer.”
“Cool,” Peter says.
Cool? My God, she’s way too good for the likes of this asshole.
Skye takes another sip. “You want to dance again?”
I take a step closer.
“Sure.” He grabs her hand.
I’m ready to intervene when he speaks again.
“I’m sweating. You want to get some fresh air first?”
Oh, hell no. I see where this is going. I close the gap in two giant steps.
“No,” I say firmly. “She does not.”
Chapter Sixteen
“What are you doing here?” Skye demands.