Page 29 of Playing Hard to Get

“I'm not sure. We might have to cut him loose.”

“Cael?” I asked.

“The client.” Frankie frowned but shook it off. Like a switch was flipped, she was off on a different topic, as if losing a client didn’t affect her at all. I knew her better than that, though. She'd put so much into helping build up LS Security.

Last year, after the Savory caught fire and saved me from making the mistake I made last night, Mitch's boss, Lee, took Frankie and Corey on as clients. There was a psychopath on the loose, intent on getting rid of Frankie so she could have Corey all to herself. Lee and Mitch protected my cousin while she traveled to all the cities where Corey played games. And on the fateful day that Corey was shot, Lee was on his way to stop the psycho when he got delayed by the security guard at the gate of my father's private neighborhood.

Frankie didn't blame Lee for not getting there in time. Corey did get shot, but Lee stopped the woman before she could shoot Frankie, Vinny, Jen Lucas, my father, or me. And while Corey recovered, Frankie decided some changes were necessary in her life. She invested heavily in Lee’s little company, helping it grow, helping to find clients. It was her baby, more important to her than anything but Corey. And she didn’t take any kind of failure lightly.

The waiter delivered our lunch. I was grateful for it, though I wasn’t hungry. In fact, the thought of eating made my stomach churn. But at least I wasn’t expected to talk, to pretend Mitch's presence wasn’t affecting me. He continued to invade my space and every touch made it worse. When Frankie's phone buzzed again, she didn’t hesitate to answer. And Mitch didn’t hesitate to jump right back into making me uncomfortable.

“How's the soup, darlin’?”

With my lip between my teeth, I debated whether I could tell him off with Frankie right next to me. Thinking better of it, I said, “It’s good. It's one of my favorites here.”

“Yeah? Can I try?” Without waiting for a response, Mitch reached out and dipped two fingers into my soup. He slipped his fingers into his mouth and moaned. “Mmm, tastes so good.”

My mouth dropped open as my wide eyes met his.

“Sorry again,” Frankie said, setting her phone on the table.

“No worries, darlin’. Have you tried this soup? It tastes great.” Before I could stop him, Mitch dipped his fingers back in my bowl and lapped the liquid off with his tongue.

Frankie scrunched up her face. “You like that? I don't understand you two.”

Mitch grinned at me, but I was too shocked, too embarrassed, to do anything but stare.

“Hey, I need to use the little girl’s room. I'll be right back.” Frankie grabbed her phone and purse and left us sitting here.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed when she was out of sight.

“What's wrong, Viv?” The wicked grin Mitch gave me pissed me off more. “Don't like to see me enjoy something that tastes so good?”

My cheeks heated and Mitch reached out and slid the backs of his fingers from my chin down the front of my throat.

“You're beautiful when you blush.”

I slapped his hand away from me, then gave his legs a good kick. “Quit fucking touching me.”

Mitch chuckled. “That's not what you were saying last night.”

“Yeah? Well that was before I saw…” I turned my eyes away from him as another wave of nausea hit.

He leaned in close, putting his elbows on the table and encroaching on my space. “What'd you see?”

Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, I forced out, “I saw you leave with Kimber. Not ten minutes after you fucked me. I don't need that kind of shit in my life. So leave me alone.”

Mitch ran his tongue along his bottom lip, slow and enticing. I dragged my eyes away from him and looked out the window at the flowers blooming in the large copper pots along the patio.

“Jealousy looks good on you, Vivian.”

A scowl split my lips. “Why would I be jealous? She doesn't have anything I'd ever want.”

“You're right.” Mitch sat back in his chair, shaking his head as he laughed. He sat forward again, his sudden movement startling me. “You're right. I mean, unless what you really want is for someone to put you in a cab because you're too drunk to make it to the elevator without falling over. You ever want that? I'm your man. I'm sure Kimber would be a willing reference.”

I swallowed hard at his closeness, at what he said. I spent the night thinking he went home with Kimber. Could I have been wrong? But before I could question him, Frankie came rushing back to the table, her phone clutched in her fist.

“Viv, I’m sorry. I wanted to spend time with you, and this has gone to shit. I have to go.” She shook her phone as if it was the culprit. “The client, Cael—”