“Can’t handle a bit of teasing?” I asked, wondering if the sexual tension between us was just a figment of my imagination. As his hand wrapped tighter on my waist and he pulled me closer against him, I realized that it was very much not imagined. My eyes flared before growing heavy, heat flashing over my skin.
“From you, Dahlia?” he chuckled softly. “You have no idea how razor thin that line of control is, princess.”
My pulse increased as I wondered just what I could do to push that line of control. My eyes moved to his lips, but before I could say anything, a voice cleared, causing both of us to pause and look at Dermot. The man cleaned up stunningly in a tux, and the look he offered Kingston was both amused and concerned.
“You have international press here,” Dermot reminded him, something like worry filtering through his gaze.
King nodded, pressing a kiss to my forehead as Dermot offered a hand to me. I watched my best friend walk away, then looked up at his cousin, who was staring at me with interest. Dang it. That had totally been the edge of something.
“What about the international press?” I asked, insecurity bubbling up. “Does he not want pictures of us dancing to circulate?”
Dermot’s eyes widened. “Not how you think, trust me.”
I arched a brow as he walked with me towards our table and I sat down, my feet hurting slightly as he offered me a new glass of champagne. I sipped it easily and asked my question. “How do you think I mean?”
“That it is about you,” he murmured, leaning forward, his arms on his knees.
“Well, is it not?”
“The Ross family deals in international circles a lot,” he hedged and then examined my face. “Ones that would love to know who is important to Kingston’s father and Kingston himself.”
Oh.
“We were just dancing,” I waved off.
Dermot hummed and took a sip of his drink. “Is that what you really think?”
I was caught off guard by his question. “What else would I think?”
He examined my face with interest, but before he could respond, a shadow came over us and had my jaw gritting in frustration. I swear, if one more person interrupted us, I was going to be the one losing it...
“Dermot Ross, good to see you again,” Ian chuckled, a hand coming down on Dermot’s shoulder. I watched something really dark flash in the man’s gaze before he tightened his hold on his glass and looked up at Ian, shrugging off his touch.
“You should watch yourself, Ian,” Dermot leveled. “I don’t give a fuck about this game. I’ll just beat the shit out of you.”
That was hot.
I mean, no… that was violent.Bad Dahlia.
Ian put up his hands. “Mate, I didn’t say anything. I just wanted to say hi.”
“Ian, you should go,” I pointed out, seeing his brother staring at him from a distance. He looked a bit more cautious, and that was smart—I could feel the tension in Dermot’s frame, and I wasn’t even touching him.
Ian looked down at me, his eyes running over me. “Why don’t you come with me?”
Dermot stood up, his accent thicker in his anger. “One more fuckin’ thing. Try it, Ian, and I’ll kick your sorry arse out of here.”
“There are news crews everywhere,” he hissed, although he looked amused.
Dermot stepped up into his space, looking down at him. “I don’t give a fuck who sees.”
My skin broke out into shivers as I reached out and touched Dermot’s wrist gently. “He’s not worth it, D.”
The nickname had him looking back down at me in surprise, and I saw him consider something before he looked back at Ian. “You have one chance to walk away. Don’t waste it.”
Ian seemed to weigh his odds before putting up his hands and stepping back. Once he was gone, Dermot sat down and shook his head, downing his beer.
“D?” he asked suddenly, looking amused.