“You too.” She smiled at him, and the fire in my blood burned hotter. “Let’s meet up the next time you’re in D.C. You have my number.”
Meet up? Number? What the fuck?
“I’d love to.” Asher kissed her on the cheek. Possessiveness burst, hot and ugly, in my chest. I wanted to yank him off her and deck him in his stupid pretty boy face. “See you around.”
Jules waited until he was out of earshot before turning to me. “Yes?”
“What the fuck was that?” I tried and failed to keep the territorial growl out of my voice.
“What was what?”
My jaw locked at her cool, impersonal tone. “That.” I gestured in the soccer star’s direction. “With Asher. Why the fuck does he have your number?”
“Because I gave it to him.” Jules raised her brows. “Is that why you so rudely interrupted us? Because we were in the middle of a conversation, and if you don’t have anything substantial to say, I’d like to continue it.”
I was tempted to drag her over my lap and spank her for her insolent tone, but there was something more important we needed to discuss besides Asher.
We could deal with him later.
“We need to talk. Alone.” I glanced at our friends, but they were too busy on the dance floor to pay attention to us.
“I’m busy, Josh. I have bridesmaid duties to fulfill.”
“They’re fulfilled.”
Bridget and Rhys already had their first dance and cut the cake, and all the guests were busy dancing, getting drunk, or gossiping on the sidelines.
World leaders: they were just like us.
“Oh, of course.” Jules placed a hand over her chest. “I defer to your vast experience as a bridesmaid. You clearly know exactly what the role entails.”
My knuckles tightened. We were backsliding into our old, bickering selves. Normally, I would’ve welcomed it as a sign of normality, but right now, it pissed me the hell off.
“Outside in five minutes, Red, or I’ll bend you over my lap and spank your ass raw right here in front of every goddamn king, queen, and president in the world,” I growled.
A dark pink flush rose on Jules’s cheeks. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Then don’t test me.”
I turned on my heel and stalked out of the ballroom.
Jules must’ve heard the truth in my threat because she met me outside the party exactly five minutes later, her jaw set in a stubborn line.
We walked down the hall until we reached an unlocked drawing room. I shut the door behind us, and then…silence.
We stared at each other, the air heavy with old hurts and unspoken words.
You’ve never thought I was good enough.
I heard what you said. To Ava.
So what changed? Besides sex.
My irritation at seeing her with Asher slowly drained away, replaced with guilt and shame. I hadn’t known Jules was listening, but I still felt like an asshole for what I said.
“What do you want to talk about?” Jules asked, her tone as stiff as her shoulders.
“I want to…” I hesitated, wishing I had something more sufficient than words. “Apologize.”
Once upon a time, delivering an apology to Jules Ambrose would’ve been as painful as cutting out my own tongue. Now, the words tumbled out with relative ease.
I understood why Jules was upset. She was right. I’d been an asshole.
I should’ve apologized the other night, but I’d been so taken aback by the revelation I couldn’t think of a proper response. Not only to what happened with Ava, but to her follow-up questions.
So what changed? Besides sex.
Everything.
That was what I should’ve said, had I not been too blind to see it and too chickenshit to say it.
Ours started as a sex-only arrangement, but it’d never been about just sex. Even when I thought I hated her, I was already softening toward her. Every smile, every laugh, and every conversation chipped away at the image I’d constructed of her in my mind until I was left with someone I didn’t know but couldn’t bear to let go of.
“You already apologized,” she said.