The Endgame (Atlanta Lightning 1)

“Well, shit,” Jeremy said softly as we walked toward security and the door. “If you and your boyfriend ever did go public, I’m not sure you could handle someone getting more attention than you.”

“You’re right. I didn’t think of that. Maybe I should break up with him.”

Jeremy laughed, then looked over his shoulder. “Fuck. He looks hot. He’s wearing a white suit. You know how sexy I think that is.”

I did know. I thought the same.

We showed our tickets at the door, dealt with security, then were led into the large ballroom. It was about half an hour before the presentations were supposed to begin. Jeremy would be giving one of them.

“I need a drink,” I told him.

“Are you going to avoid looking at him all night?” Jeremy asked.

“If I can, yes.” What good would torturing myself do?

I made my way to the bar, and as Jeremy fell into step beside me, he asked, “Who’s the woman?”

It was a reflex to look behind me. Anson was just walking inside, and fuck, Jeremy had been right. The suit was perfect on him. I’d seen him dressed up on television, but never in person and never for an event like this.

I wanted him—to go to him, to claim him, to remove the woman’s arm that was threaded through his, to be the one beside him.

Darren Edwards stood on his other side, chatting. I assumed the woman was Darren’s sister and agent, Mia—the woman who wanted him. The one Anson’s mom thought he should be with. White-hot jealousy scorched my skin, making me burn and ache.

As if he felt my stare, Anson’s gaze snapped up, met mine, and held. The need I saw reflected there, the sorrow entangled with the hot fire of want, eased some of the tension from my muscles.

He pulled his arm from Mia’s, straightened his suit, and looked at me again. I could read in his eyes what he couldn’t say. It’s nothing. I wish it were you. I’m sorry.

“You’re eye-fucking each other.” Jeremy tugged my arm. “I think you had the right idea by trying not to look at him. You’re gonna blow it.”

It took me a moment to move. I couldn’t look away, and Anson wasn’t either. But then Mia turned to him, and her eyes followed his and found me.

She won the stare-down, and I immediately dropped my gaze. “Let’s go get that drink,” I told Jeremy, who threaded his arm through mine and led the way.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Anson

I couldn’t keep my eyes off him.

I’d felt West’s stare the moment I’d walked in, and my eyes had been instantly drawn to him.

He was…fuck, he was gorgeous and sophisticated in a way I didn’t feel I was, even when I dressed up. I felt out of place in dress clothes, like I was a fraud, but formal attire was made for West, for his body, his confidence, his swagger.

I should have known tonight would be difficult, but all I’d been thinking about was what came after the event. I hadn’t considered how it would feel to see him, to see him with Jeremy, and I hadn’t anticipated the ache inside me when Jeremy held his arm. I knew it was nothing. I trusted West, and they were friends, but now I couldn’t get over the fact that they’d had sex, that if it wasn’t for me, they could go back to the hotel together and fuck each other all night.

Luckily for my sanity, they didn’t touch for long. I saw West let go of Jeremy’s arm when they reached the bar. The affection Mia showed me wasn’t unique to us. It didn’t mean anything. We had never had sex or even so much as kissed. She was my best friend’s sister, one of my closest friends, and Mia was affectionate with everyone, but tonight was the first time it felt wrong.

“Should we get a drink? I need a drink,” Darren said.

“Sure.” My gaze darted up, and I saw West and Jeremy had already left the bar. When my eyes found Mia, she was watching me, her head slightly cocked as though she was confused. “What?” I asked.

“Nothing.” She shook her head.

We got our drinks and made the rounds like we should. Every time we broke away from one person or group, someone else would stop us, thank us for the donations we’d made and the commercial Darren and I were going to film together for their organization, and yeah, to talk football and the Super Bowl.

My agent was there as well, but I hadn’t seen him. I told myself that when my eyes scanned the room, it was him I was looking for and not West.

“Anson?” Mia said, touching my arm, and I realized someone had been speaking to me.

“I’m sorry. What was that?” We’d been talking to the director of the upcoming commercial, who’d stopped to ask Darren and me a few questions.