Usually these galas were a business opportunity disguised as personal fun. That’s what it should have been for Tyler, but then he spotted Everly walking down the stairs that led to the ballroom. She strode in wearing a one-shoulder black dress that followed her figure like a map to the Promised Land. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek, low bun that set off her face, which was all big, beautiful eyes and dark-red lips. And as she made her way toward him, he mentally made a list of every guy who looked a little bit too long.
Tyler? Meet your inner caveman.
By the time they came together on the edge of the dance floor, the list was long enough to merit two pages, single-spaced. This wasn’t like him. And tonight was the worst night for him to give in to the testosterone-fed urges gripping him by the balls, but he had to do something. So instead of punching out the finance bro coming their way with lascivious intent in his eyes, Tyler slinked an arm around Everly’s waist and pulled her onto the dance floor. She just smiled as if she knew exactly what he was thinking and went along with it, pressing her body close to his as they swayed to the music.
“Good” wasn’t the right word to describe how she felt in his arms, but it was as close as he was going to get. As always whenever he was around her, his brain stopped whirring in constant motion as plots and plans came together in his subconscious and all he could do was focus on her.
“You look beautiful,” he finally managed to get out.
She gave him a cocky grin that went straight to his dick. “I clean up pretty well for a Riverside girl.”
“You clean up pretty well for a Harbor City princess.”
It was the truth. Even as part of him knew he should put a few extra inches of space between their bodies according to the rules of polite society and especially because of the extra eyes he knew were watching, he couldn’t seem to make himself. Not until the music ended and the band announced they were taking a short break. At that point, holding her was no longer an option. Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t let his palm linger on the small of her back as they walked off the dance floor toward the bar and the Carlyles gathered around a table nearby.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.
“A glass of Chardonnay would be perfect. Just let me go say hi to everyone at the Carlyle table real quick, and
I’ll meet you at the bar.” She planted her hand on his chest, leaned up, and brushed a quick kiss across his cheek.
The little display of PDA was all totally acceptable. Her quick ass grab before walking over to the Carlyles? Yeah, not so much, but he wasn’t complaining.
Distracted fool that he was, Tyler didn’t notice that not only was one of the hotel board members, Gianni Esposito, standing near the bar, giving him the prune face, but Irena was nearby with trouble written all over her. Whatever the woman was up to, he might as well deal with it now before Everly came back over, because he knew exactly what would happen then—Everly, with the best of intentions, would rush to his defense, causing exactly the kind of scene he couldn’t have here, and Irena would win. His ex-fiancée hadn’t planted herself at the elbow of a hotel board member accidentally.
Making sure to keep a few feet between them at the bar, Tyler ordered Everly’s wine and a Scotch on the rocks.
“You know,” Irena said, her voice silky smooth and closer than it should be, “I still think of you.”
He kept his attention on the bartender. “I don’t want to know.”
Irena continued as if she hadn’t heard the dig or—more likely—didn’t give a shit. “On those nights when I can’t seem to fall asleep and it’s all I can do not to get myself off thinking about how good you were with your tongue as I’m lying in bed next to Carlo.”
His stomach churned. How in the hell had he ever thought he’d loved this woman? Were his instincts really that fucked when it came to the opposite sex? “Am I supposed to be flattered by that?”
She flipped her long hair over her shoulder and shrugged. “Just a fact. It doesn’t matter what you feel; it never has.”
“It’s gotta be exhausting to have to pretend not to be such a bitch.”
“You should know,” she said with a knowing smile.
Now that got his attention. Even though he knew he shouldn’t engage—especially because the hotel board member was still watching the exchange with open curiosity; at least he was too far away to hear what was being said—Tyler snapped back anyway. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re just as much of a fake as I am, except at least I’m not faking it for profit like you. I have to play nice because those are the rules of my peers. But you? What do you people do on the other side of the harbor? What am I asking you for? You’ve been acting like one of us for so long, you probably don’t even remember.”
Irena’s eyes glittered with triumph. She thought she had him—and she almost did. He was holding on to his control with his fingernails. It had all happened as she no doubt had planned. He’d lose his cool. The board members would hear all about it. And Irena would walk away wondering out loud what in the world she could have ever said to have upset the man. After that, the deal would be a bust. Irena may be evil, but she was an evil fucking genius.
“Oh, that face,” she said, making a tsk-tsk cluck with her tongue as she placed her hand on his forearm, holding on hard enough that he’d have to shake her off to free himself. “I know that one. It’s the same one you had on when you watched me stroll out of Sawyer’s hotel room the night before our wedding, my shirt misbuttoned and my skirt askew. It’s like you’re trying to stuff a ten-ton elephant into a soda bottle.”
All of the vile words came out pointed and sharp but the sweet, doe-eyed, innocent look on her face never faltered. She really was an expert at this.
“Shut up, Irena.” He handed the bartender a wad of cash and picked up his drink with his free hand, hoping she’d take the hint.
She didn’t.
“The thing that made me realize that no matter how much money you had or how much you made my toes curl when I came, I couldn’t be with you, was a little visit I had with your mom.” Her words were as sharp and as deadly as the knife the bartender was using to slice the limes. “You didn’t know she’d come to see me, did you? I didn’t think so. She was drunk, angry, and looking like she was on the tail end of a lifetime bender. It was a hell of a combination.” She smiled so sweetly up at him, it nearly put him in sugar shock. “She told me all about your childhood, about your dad, and about how she was responsible for that scar on your eyebrow. Ten stitches? That must have been some aim she had with your Little League baseball trophy.”
Tyler held himself perfectly still and filled his veins with ice. This was how he’d survived that night and a million more, by learning what everyone who’d ever faced down overwhelming odds before had—to never let them see what was really going on inside. Once he was sure he was there, he lifted his glass and took a drink—not too big, not too small. It was deliberate to show her words had no impact.