Page 83 of Unleashed By Eden

I bite the inside of my cheek.

Theo sidles up beside me, drink in hand. “You enjoying watching your house burn down?”

“Piss off,” I snap.

He snorts. “Relax. Lucien flirts with anyone with a pulse. Probably winks at his own reflection.”

I glare at him, and he wisely fucks off.

Lucien leans closer again. Another flash of white teeth, followed by another laugh from Violet, and my patience snaps.

Before I can think better of it, I’m across the room.

“Ah, Ashford!” Lucien calls when he spots me. “You didn’t tell me your photographer was so charming.”

I force a tight smile. “Guess I didn’t know she had that setting.”

Violet’s smile falters. Lucien doesn’t notice; he’s too busy basking in the sound of his own voice.

“I’m getting another drink,” he says. “You two want anything?”

We both shake our heads, eyes still locked on each other.

He squeezes the back of my neck, completely oblivious to the tension strung tight between us, and drifts off toward the bar.

I shove my hands in my pockets. “Is this you getting back at me for the Cindy thing? Cause I already told you—I was a dumb kid trying to get my dick wet. It could’ve been anyone. I wasn’t thinking anything beyond ‘great, two chicks.’”

She blinks, surprised. “What? No. I was just chatting to him, being nice.”

“You’re never nice,” I shoot back. “You never smile that much at me or laugh at my jokes.”

She folds her arms, one brow lifting. “That’s because your jokes suck.”

“So, you’re nice now?”

She exhales slowly. “I’m not a petty bitch, Carter. I don’t play games.”

Guilt strikes before jealousy can finish its lap.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I retort, instantly hating how it sounds.

Her eyes flash—a storm I know all too well—and I brace for her to walk away. But she doesn’t.

She steps in closer. “I’m going to the bathroom. And when I come back, you’re going to get your head out of your ass, and we’re going to act like functioning adults and put this behind us. Deal?”

I blow out a breath and nod once. “Deal.”

The hem of her dress brushes my leg as she walks away. I watch her go until she vanishes into the bathrooms.

I’m still staring when movement at the entrance pulls my attention.

A wall of black suits comes through the doors, big guys with heavy-set shoulders who look familiar. Dante walks in the middle of them, built but not quite as bulky as the muscle he keeps around him, dark suit perfectly tailored. His eyes sweep the room in one quick pass, taking in everything. A woman who looks like she’s swallowed a lemon sideways follows behind him.

A few industry people peel off to shake Dante’s hand with careful respect. No one even looks at the woman. She hovers a few steps away, eyes flicking around as if planning escape routes.

“Who’s that?” Violet reappears at my side, watching the same scene. “He’s fucking terrifying.”

“That’s Dante,” I tell her. “He’s the guy who provided us with security in Madrid.”