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It looked like Ethan was indulging his formality, but I knew that the slight curve of his lips was forced.
“Mr. Anderson.” He clenched his jaw. Then accepted the handshake which lasted for five seconds. Ethan immediately pulled his hands away.
I furrowed my brows. It wasn't really nice to be rude to people.
Mr. Anderson turned to me. “Oh, I see you have a lovely date,” he smiled, then stretched his hand. I accepted it.
“My name is Thomas Anderson.”
I was surprised when he tipped my hand and kissed the back of my palm. An icky feeling settled in my stomach as his lips lingered longer than normal. I waited for him to let go, but he didn't.
“Such a beautiful young lady. Tell me, what's your name?”
“Evie.”
“Evie,” he repeated as if testing the name on his tongue. I didn't like how he sounded.
“Your name radiates an air of innocence,” he licked his lips, much to my dismay. “Just like yo—”
“Anderson, I suggest you leave my date be and fuck off.”
Anderson turned to Ethan. I watched his lips slowly curve into a sly grin as they stared intently at each other. The table turned hot, reeking vendetta.
Anderson was surely happy. It seemed like getting on Ethan’s nerves was a fun thing for him.
“Alright, Ethan.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just wanted to say hi.”
Just like he came, he disappeared into the sea of the crowd. Awkward silence befell us until he spoke.
“I hate him.”
Yeah, it was pretty obvious.
“Why?” I asked.
He ignored my question, fixing a piercing gaze on him. “You shouldn't have let him touch you.”
I narrowed my eyes slightly. Like any of that was my fault. “Why?”
He obviously wasn't too pleased with my question. “He was a business partner.”
“Was?”
“We did business once, and it ended badly.”
I arched a brow. But there were losses in business. He, of all people, should know that. Except…
“The business went bad because of him,” he continued.
“And you still blame him even now,” I finished.
He nodded.
“Typical of you.”
I gasped when I realized I said that out loud. He gave me permission to call him by his name. Now, I was indirectly calling him names. Shit.
He paused. My attention was suddenly drawn to his perfectly carved brows. Did he shave them regularly, or was he born with perfect brows?
