20. The Big, Bad Wolf
Jared
“What the hell was that, man?”
I turn my gaze from Sophie’s retreating form to my best friend. “What was what?”
Sam shakes his head, his eyes accusatory, then walks away from me. My entire body deflates as I turn toward the bar. I’ve never really felt a strong urge to drink, but right now, having something dull my senses sounds like heaven.
I order a glass of bourbon, and when the bartender hands it over with a smile, I take a tentative sip. I force my face to remain neutral as the alcohol burns its way down my throat. I know people are watching me. I can feel their gazes burning against my skin, and I have a cool, calm, and collected image to uphold.
But I’m not feeling any of those things right now.
What I am feeling is anger and self-loathing. I’m pissed at Sam for so blatantly flirting with my assistant even though I don’t understand why. All I know is the fire of rage that flashed through me when he kissed her hand refused to abate, and I ended up stalking over and insulting her…for what? To make myself feel better?
To prove I wasn’t jealous?
Of course, I’m not jealous. The mere idea is preposterous. I don’t even like her.
I take another long sip of the bourbon, sighing as it warms my stomach. That’s nice.
I should go find Sophie and prove to myself and everyone else she doesn’t affect me. Not in the least.
Deciding that’s a fine idea, I leave the bar area and shift through the crowd. Several people open their mouths as if to say something as I pass, but my expression must put them off because no one actually stops me.
When I finally see that familiar black dress and red hair, my lips curve up into a humorless smile. I toss back the rest of my bourbon, then place the empty glass on a tray held by a passing waiter. The man Sophie’s talking to catches my gaze, his own eyes widening before he mutters something to her and scurries away.
She turns to see what obviously spooked him, and when she spots me closing in on her, she frowns and rolls her eyes. My own smile grows wider as I find myself eager for the challenge she represents.
“Having a good time?” I ask as I stop beside her, my eyes surveying the crowd.
“I was,” she answers, her voice filled with resentment.
“Are you implying that I’ve ruined your fun with my mere presence?”
“I’m not implying anything,” she says, her face wrinkling with disdain as the words hang in the air between us.
“You should act more respectful toward your boss,” I say, my tone turning light and conversational.
The alcohol has done a decent job of loosening my tongue and my reserve, and I find myself wanting to see the fire of challenge spark in her blue eyes. It doesn’t take long for my wish to be granted. When she finally meets my eyes, I feel her death glare to my bones.
“I only pay respect to those who deserve it,” she grits out, then seems to catch herself. Shaking her head, she drifts a step away. “If you’ll excuse me…”
Without thinking, I reach out and wrap my fingers around her wrist, stopping her retreat. “Sophie, I’m––”
“Sophie! There you are! Come. I want to introduce you to Dean.”
I snatch my hand away at the sound of Scotty’s voice. He gives me a warning look, then pulls Sophie away without speaking to me. He must’ve felt the tension between us from across the room, then swooped in to save her from the big, bad wolf.
My eyes drift closed as I silently berate myself. What was I thinking? First, I insult her, then I search her out to harass her, then I grab her when she tries to leave? My mother would be appalled. I’m appalled.
I can try to blame the last two things on the alcohol, but my initial insults were one hundred percent me. And I didn’t even get a chance to apologize.
I head back to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, I turn and come face-to-face with the one person I’d hoped to never see again.
“Jared. Good to see you, son.”
“Do not call me that,” I grit out between clenched teeth, then sigh. “What the fuck are you doing here, Harrison? This is a private party.”