I slid out of the booth next and extended my hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m—”
“I know who you are, sweetheart.” He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, disregarding my hand.
I hated the word sweetheart, but when Conway’s father or uncle said it, it didn’t seem so bad. It seemed affectionate and respectful. Knuckles’s hold over the name had begun to fade away. “You do?”
“My brother and sister said good things.” His gaze shifted back to Conway. “I heard you’ve been straightening him out.”
“He’s already pretty straight,” I said with a laugh. “Never needed my help with that.”
His uncle grinned. “I like you.”
My cheeks blushed as I smiled. “Thanks…”
“I’m Cane,” he said.
“Sapphire.” He said he already knew who I was so I didn’t need to introduce myself, but I did anyway.
“My uncle owns this club,” Conway said. “That’s why I found it ironic you girls wanted to come here.”
“It’s nice,” I said. “Drinks are strong.”
“They’re only strong for pretty girls.” He glanced at Vanessa, who was still talking to that guy. “Who’s she talking to?”
Conway glanced over his shoulder and sighed. “She thought he was cute…”
“Should I throw him out?” Cane asked, dead serious.
Were all the Barsetti men like this? “Leave her alone. She’s a grown woman. Even if she makes a mistake, good for her. If we don’t make mistakes, then we’ll never learn.”
“There are some mistakes that shouldn’t be made,” Conway said darkly. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
The fact that his uncle found that response normal was surprising. No wonder why Vanessa was the ornery, free-spirited woman she was. She must feel suffocated with all these overprotective men.
“I’ll see you later.” Cane pulled him into a hug and patted him on the back. “You look good, by the way.”
Conway smiled. “Thanks. You do too.”
“Obviously.” He smirked. “But you only look good because of the woman on your arm.”
* * *
Laura and Stephanie settled into a different table with a pair of brothers. They enjoyed their drinks and the good conversation. Vanessa hadn’t stopped talking to the man she set her eyes on. Now they were alone in a booth together, talking quietly while his arm rested over the back of the leather seat. They were very close together, close enough for a kiss if the moment was right.
Conway didn’t stare at them, but it was obvious he was aware of them. We could leave at any time now that the girls had broken off into different groups. There was no reason for us to stick around.
But Conway kept ordering more rounds.
And that man could drink.
He rested his fingertips around the glass while his arm remained draped over my shoulders.
“So, are we going to stay here all night and spy?”
“I’m just enjoying my drink.”
“That’s your fifth scotch. Looks like I’ll have to drive home.”
“I can drive.”
“Not so sure about that…”
“Do I seem drunk?” He looked down into my face, his handsome smolder sexy.
“No.”
“Then it’ll be fine.”
I pressed my fingertips to his chin and gently felt the beard along his jaw. The stubble was thick and coarse and scratched against my soft fingertips. I followed the outline of his jaw to his cheek. My eyes focused on his full lips, examining the man in front of me like he was a statue of the most revered king in history.
“You can have me whenever you want me, Muse.”
My eyes flicked back up to his. “What makes you think I want you?”
His fingers wrapped around my slender wrist and squeezed. “I know you better than you think. I know that look in your eyes…it’s the look you give when you want me to kiss you.”
My legs were crossed under the table, and I felt my thighs squeeze together involuntarily. I’d seen most of the women inside that club stare at Conway at least once. He was the most eligible bachelor in Italy, and I knew women weren’t just staring because of his fame. They were staring because he was more beautiful than the models he employed. It made me possessive, but it also made me feel lucky. I was the one sitting with him in that booth—not them. “Are you going to kiss me, then?”
“Not in a room full of people.”
“Ashamed of me, huh?” I whispered, knowing that couldn’t be true.
“I just don’t want men to get off to it.”
“Honestly, I think the women are more likely to get off to it…”
He rubbed his nose against mine. “You’re a very jealous woman.”
“No, I’m not.”
His eyes narrowed as he challenged me.
“And you’re one to talk.”
“I’m not jealous. I’m just very possessive of my things.”
“That’s the exact definition of jealousy…”
“No, you’re thinking of greed. I’m very greedy. I have something that I don’t want anyone else to have. It’s not because I care for it. It’s simply because I like having something that others don’t.”