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“It always is,” I smirked. “And now you know why I have an open relationship.”
“Speaking of which,” he muttered under his breath.
I turned just as Bryce walked up with a beautiful woman on his arm. She had to be a supermodel and dressed way too inappropriately for a gala.
“Wren,” Bryce said, leaning in to press a kiss to my cheek. “You look…amazing.”
“You look nice as well. I see you found someone who was still willing to hang on your arm for a night.”
I shot the woman a tight smile. I already hated her, but I wasn’t sure why. Possibly because of the way her eyes were roaming over Brock. Shouldn’t she be paying more attention to Bryce? And why wasn’t I more upset over him bringing this woman?
“Her name is Belle.”
“How very Disney of her,” I retorted. “Pretty soon, we’ll all be breaking out in song.”
“I wouldn’t say that too loudly,” Brock chuckled. “Fox will be here tonight.”
I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but before I could ask, Bryce was dragging me away from Brock.
“Who’s the guy?”
I looked back at Brock, catching the way he was glaring at Bryce. “He’s just a date.”
“He has tattoos. I can see them around his wrists. What have you gotten yourself into?”
I stopped admiring Brock when Bryce said that, turning to him with a chuckle. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“He’s clearly involved with the mafia or something. Why would you bring him?”
“Trust me, he’s not with the mafia.”
“Then who is he?”
I rolled my eyes, something I never did. “He’s a security guard, if you must know. My father is always worrying about something. You know that. Anyway, he’s posing as my date.”
I hated the way Bryce’s concern suddenly turned into a comedy show about my life. “Wren, if I had known you didn’t have a date?—”
“Don’t even say it. The last thing I need is to be seen on your arm. We’re supposed to still be fighting.”
“I’ll make it up to you later,” he said, shifting into my space.
His hand snaked around my waist, and for some reason, my eyes went to Brock. His hand was tightened in a fist, and he looked like he was about two seconds from tearing Bryce away from me.
Pressing my hands to Bryce’s chest, I gently pushed him back. We didn’t need a scene in the middle of the gala. And frankly, I was uncomfortable with how intense Brock was getting. “Not yet,” I smiled. “It’s still too soon.”
Yet, my eyes kept flicking back to Brock, and I knew it wasn’t because I was worried he would pummel Bryce. No, I liked his reaction. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing me away from my soon-to-be fiancé. Just the thought of what he could do had me clenching my thighs together.
I felt my face flush red and cleared my throat. “I could really use a drink.”
Brock held out his hand to me. “So could I.”
I opened my mouth to say something but found no words. Instead, I took his hand and tried not to trip over my feet as he sent me a smoldering look.
“That guy is an asshole.”
“He’s rich and good-looking,” I countered, unsure of why I was standing up for Bryce. Yes, I was going to marry him, but he brought a model to the gala when he was supposed to be rehabilitating his image. The whole thing made me look like the sad woman who was left behind, and I never allowed anyone to look at me like I was pathetic.
Brock took a hard right just as we were getting to the bar, dragging me down a long hallway.
