A handsy couple—seriously, they put Eve and Ian to shame—jumps apart. Shoots us a you know how it goes look.
They're both around Cam's age and they're both dressed like him too. In sharp designer suits. Here on business. The business of fucking each other.
He's got a ring.
She doesn't.
Usually, I don't consider the bonds of matrimony.
Today, I'm annoyed. Is this asshole really cheating?
I step out of the elevator. "How's your wife?"
The woman looks away, embarrassed. The guy fumes, but he doesn't say anything to me.
No, he talks to Cam. "What's your girlfriend's problem?"
"I'm guessing it's the ring on your left hand." Cam steps out of the elevator.
"How is it your business?" he, again, asks Cam.
"It's not." Cam looks to the woman. "But you could do better." He ignores the guy. Moves next to me—right next to me—and presses his palm into my lower back. "You're smarter than that."
I shrug.
He nudges me forward. "You know better, Sienna. You can't trust strange men."
"I'm not trusting him."
"You shouldn't challenge him."
Whatever. "He's obviously preoccupied."
"And what if your comment works? And she decides not to fuck him because of it?" Cam leads me into the restaurant. "You think he'll take that well?"
"I think I don't care."
"What if he comes back angry and tries to start a fight?"
"Wow, an angry man at a bar? How could this happen?" I roll my eyes.
"Sienna—"
"We're in a public place."
"The elevator is right there. He could grab you. Keep you there. Hurt you before anyone could stop him."
"There's a security camera."
"So they'll catch the arsehole after he hurts you?"
"I'm not by the elevator anymore. I'm at a restaurant." I motion to the tables. They're not all that busy, but they're busy enough. "And I'm ordering a drink. And what I do is none of your fucking business."
The same bartender is here. The cute hipster guy with the vest.
He recognizes us. Nods hello.
"Would you like something?" I ask.
Cam doesn't reply.
"Suit yourself." I cross the room to the bar.
The cute bartender smiles. "Not enough Sapphire Martinis in the hotel room?"
"Room service won't send Blue Curacao."
He shoots me a winning smile. "Your boyfriend want one too?"
"I don't know." I look to Cam.
His entire face screws with frustration. There's no sign of the carefree party animal who teases his best friend about his penchant for whips and chains.
My stomach twists. Is he this upset?
Is he really worried about that random CEO asshole?
No. Fuck him. He should worry about himself. He should worry about playing hot and cold with me.
"Do you want another martini, Cam?" I ask.
He steps to the bar. Tries to swallow the frustration in his voice. "Sure."
"You closed out," the bartender says.
Cam pulls two bills from the wallet. Slips them into the guy's hand.
"Thanks." The bartender beams. "Right away, sir." He turns. Starts filling a mixer with blue liqueur.
"Sienna." Cam stares down at me.
I stare back at him. "Cameron."
"Don't call me that."
"It's your name."
"I don't like it."
"Then don't say my name in that tone."
"What tone?" he asks.
"Like it means something to you."
"Sienna…" He does exactly that.
"No." I shake my head. "You don't say my name like that." I will the cute bartender to mix faster, but I'm pretty sure Cam tipped well enough he's moving as fast as humanly possible.
"Like what?"
"Like you care about me."
"I do."
Ugh! He's so annoying. I press my palms into the edge of the bar. Tap my nails against the wood. I painted them red last night. A bright red that goes with pretty much any shade of purple.
It's not my color. It's too bright, too cool, too fuck me now.
But maybe that's what I need. Maybe I need to paint my entire world red. Take what I want. Fuck who I want. Announce myself as a woman who gets hers.
Everyone knows I make sex jokes. Everyone knows I'm interested.
But they see me as the weird sister. The girl who can't keep her mouth shut. Who just doesn't get manners.
I get them. I just don't appreciate them.
Finally, the bartender finishes. Sets our drinks on the bar. Gushes over Cam's tie and asks if he's from London.
Money changes everything, doesn't it?
I leave them to it. Take my drink to the balcony. To the way too big for two semi-private booth.
It's ours for the night.
The entire balcony is reserved for the night.
Rich men have the world at their fingertips.
I sip my martini slowly. It's not as sweet this time. More gin. Less liqueur. Still good. Maybe even better with all those botanicals.
The first time I tried gin, I thought it tasted like Pine-Sol, but it's not so bad, really. It's almost sweet.
I finish half my drink. Set the glass on a side table. Try to enjoy the view.
It's a beautiful night. Clear and cool and shining with all the lights of the city. But my blood is buzzing.
Cam is infuriating.
And incredibly sexy.