Liar Liar

‘Cool,’ I answer, starting as I mean to go on. Disinterested. I can’t keep allowing him to seduce me into conversations because the next step is being seduced out of my panties. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t enjoyed sparring with him. Enjoyed. Obsessed over. Left his office feeling confused. What I don’t need, however, is to do it with an audience, as I note his security guard in my periphery. Even if the man was an audience to something that almost happened on that desk.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again. ‘I should’ve asked Everett to pick up my bag. You remember Everett, the head of my security team?’

‘Hey.’ The apathetic greeting is delivered over my shoulder on my way to the door.

‘Nice to see not quite so much of you.’ My steps falter, and though I think about turning around, I don’t. Rise above, Rose. Rise above. ‘I told you she can’t stand to be in the same room as me.’ The asshole chuckles.

This time, I turn, and I could kick myself because, by his expression, that’s exactly what he planned on.

‘Well, bless your heart.’

The man’s gaze flicks to the other man in the room. ‘That’s like being told to go forth and multiply, right?’ Quaint that he doesn’t want to curse in front of me. In anyone else, I’d probably say it’s good manners.

‘You don’t know me, and I don’t even know you.’ Subtext: I don’t want to know you. I get that he’s here to protect Remy, but seeing as my five-foot four proves no threat, I don’t get why he’s here now.

‘Come on, Heidi, relax. Cop a squat,’ he says, pulling out the chair next to him. ‘Remy here’s been jonesing for a little Rose all day.’

‘Oh, so you do know my name.’ I swing around to face him, the only thing rising above my blood pressure now. ‘My actual name, that is.’

His eyes flick briefly to Remy. ‘’Course I do. Didn’t he tell you I’m Team Rose.’

‘This is what happens when you feed him carbs,’ Remy murmurs, his words delivered through a reluctant smile. ‘Undying devotion bought for the price of a burger.’

‘I wouldn’t like to see how he treats his enemies in that case.’

‘He’s just jealous.’ Rhett leans back in his chair, his hands clasped to the back of his head. ‘Because you haven’t had a burger since 2015. The man’s a slave to his image,’ he adds in an undertone that we’re all meant to hear. ‘Got to think about all those girlies who’ll watch him lounging on his yacht. Alerte chaudasse!’ he adds, his words pitched in a higher octave.

Hottie alert. Something slithers in my gut. I tell myself it’s not jealousy as Remy utters the man’s name in a tone more weary than warning. Myself, I hope to appear unaffected.

‘When are you gonna put him out of his misery?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Come on. You know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. Look at him.’ As though my brain has no sway in the matter, I find I do. Gorgeous, as always; broad in the shoulders and handsome in the face. The truth is, he could eat plenty of burgers without the consumption changing any of those facts. His shirt is blue today, the colour deepening the green of his eyes, and he wears his shirt sleeves rolled, the skin of his arms almost the same colour as the strap of his battered old watch.

Someone’s been getting a little sun. Hanging out on yachts?

Naked?

The slither of jealousy in my stomach turns to the size of an anaconda.

‘Are you really gonna let him slip through your fingers because of an error in judgment? All men in love make mistakes. Love makes idiots of men.’

Love makes idiots of women, too. But am I an idiot in protecting myself . . . urgh! Belatedly, my brain processes Rhett’s insinuations. Let this hunk of handsome slip through my fingers? Like I’m the kind of woman who prefers pretty over substance—who would forgive pretty over substance.

‘This has got nothing to do with you.’ My words are icy, the look I send him arctic.

‘I’ve told him he should just chuck you over his shoulder and drag you to the Gulfstream. A week of forced proximity on a luxury remote island somewhere would do you both the world of good.’

‘I think you’ll find that’s called kidnapping,’ I snap, my annoy-o-meter creeping into the red.

‘He’s fucking lovesick. In bits. And you’ve barely looked at him. You haven’t even said hello.’

So I turn to him. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Durrand. You’re kind of quiet today. Could it be because you can’t get a word in edgewise for him?’ As I hoick my thumb in the security guy’s direction, and Remy’s responding smile is a little like standing in a tiny patch of sunshine.