“I have to be honest with you,” he says. “There’s no business meeting tonight. I wanted to see you again and this was the only way. The second you stepped out of the limo Friday night I wanted to see you again. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all weekend.”
Well, okay then. I guess that explains him booking me that same night.
“I tried to book you for Saturday and Sunday, but I was told you were working...” He raises a questioning brow and I swallow down my nerves.
“She probably just meant unavailable,” I mutter, hating that I’m lying to him. But what else can I do? I can’t risk telling him the truth and him getting mad and going to Lucinda. Yasmin could lose her job.
Thankfully the limo pulls up to the front of a restaurant I’ve never heard of and the driver opens the door for us. Isaac nods at him and, with his hand resting on my lower back, walks us inside to the hostess stand.
“Two for Petrosian,” he tells the young woman, who taps away on the iPad. “Yes, sir. We have a table for you right this—”
“I heard the rumors, but I didn’t believe them,” a voice I would recognize anywhere says from behind us, cutting off the hostess. I stiffen and Isaac’s hand glides around my back, squeezing my hip in what feels like a protective gesture as he turns us around to face none other than James Pruitt… my ex-fiancé.
“So, it’s true, then,” James says with a sleazy smirk, his arm thrown over some six-foot-tall plastic Barbie look-alike. “Isaac Petrosian is slumming it.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment and anger as Isaac pulls me closer to him, kissing the side of my temple before he speaks. “Christopher’s is owned by a good friend of mine. Tonight is the grand opening and I’m here to support him. If that’s considered slumming it, what are you doing here?”
Oh, God... I close my eyes, wishing the floor would swallow me up. He thinks James is referring to his choice of eating establishments, not his date.
James’s brows dip in confusion, and then once the pieces all click together, he barks out a laugh that’s equivalent to a fork scraping across a plate, while I pray he doesn’t say what I think is coming next. I glance around the area, planning my escape, but Isaac’s hold on me is so tight, there’s no way I’m getting away.
“That’s not what I meant,” James says once he’s finally stopped laughing. “I was talking about her.” He nods toward me like I’m barely worth his time. “Surely, even you could do better than that,” he sneers. “Hell, with the blood money you have, I imagine you could pay for better. But hey, if you want my sloppy seconds, have at it.”
And. Kill. Me. Now.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Isaac’s voice is low and growly, dripping with menace. He releases me, just barely, and steps toward James.
“I’m talking about you and my ex-fiancée,” James says, looking smug. “Camilla.”
“Who the fuck is Camilla?” Isaac asks, confused.
Before James can answer him, I cut in, unable to watch this train wreck any longer. If anyone is going to tell Isaac who I am, it’s going to be me—and definitely not my asshole ex. “I am,” I say, turning to face Isaac and giving James my back. “Can we go somewhere and talk, please?”
“Wait a second,” James says, clearly not done with destroying my life. “You didn’t know her name? Who the hell did you think she was?”
“It’s none of your business,” I bark out, done with his shit. “Go away.”
“No,” James says with a snicker. “What games are you playing?” He looks at Isaac. “You’re somewhat of a smart man. Don’t you look into who you’re dating? She’s Camilla Hutchinson. Daniel Hutchinson’s daughter.” He doesn’t bother to explain who my dad is because everyone knows who he is, especially those in the real estate industry—and there’s no way Isaac got to where he is in this world without doing his research.
“Don’t you dare speak my father’s name!” I yell, getting into James’s face. “Don’t talk about him. Don’t think about him.” I shove against his chest, every ounce of bottled up anger pouring out of me. “You and your lying piece of shit father are the reason he is where he is! And one day someone is going to fuck you over the way you did him.”
Hot tears prick my eyes and, not wanting to give James the satisfaction of seeing them, I storm past him, pushing him to the side as I flee the restaurant.
I get to the front where the valet is, and I’m looking for a cab to jump into, when a strong pair of hands grip my shoulders from behind, spinning me around.