It wasn’t an outfit I’d wear alone with him, but we wouldn’t be alone. We’d be at an office party. With a ton of other people, including Weston. This was a night to have fun.
To be sure I was all the way on board with the fun plan, I tossed back a shot of scotch before leaving my apartment. Then I threw on a jacket and headed out to catch a cab.
The party had already started when I arrived at Red Farm, which was fine. I was the type who preferred being late to being early. I stepped out of the taxi and approached the front door of the restaurant.
Before I could put my hand on the knob, however, Donovan appeared from the shadows. Grabbing my wrist, he pulled me several feet to the side of the entrance.
“What are you doing?” he hissed, his eyes wide.
“What?” I had barely caught my breath. I could feel the thrum of my pulse at my wrist underneath his hand, and I didn’t know if my heart was beating so fast because he’d startled me or because he was touching me. “I just got here.”
“With Weston.” He tightened his grip, on the edge of discomfort. “What are you doing?” This time the question was slow, each word emphasized so as to be sure I would understand.
And I did understand. Very clearly.
“I cannot even believe you.” I was seething, my vision clouding in red. This was too much. I yanked my wrist away from him and turned toward the door.
“You cannot be with him right now,” Donovan warned behind me.
Pissed off, I turned back and pushed him, hard, both palms flat against his chest. Immediately, my body tingled as it remembered pushing him like that once before, years ago.
“This is familiar,” Donovan said, his voice a low rumble.
“Leave me alone.” Once again, I made for the door.
“He’s engaged.”
I spun around. “It’s a fake engagement that you pushed him into.”
“He’s a grown-up,” Donovan spat back. “He can make his own decisions.”
“That’s right.” I nodded. “He can. And so can I.”
This time when I headed toward the entrance, I made it all the way inside without turning around.
But once I was out of sight from the door, I stopped to catch my breath. I was shaking from adrenaline, and I had to hold on to the wall to steady myself.
How dare he?
How fucking dare he?
That was all the time I allowed myself to recover. He could walk in at any minute, and I didn’t want him to think he’d affected me because how the fuck dare he?
Our group was comprised of nearly thirty of the staff members and their guests who were working on the Phoenix campaign and took up a full table across the restaurant as well as some side booths. Weston saw me before I saw him and called me over. He was seated at the main table next to Nate at the head. The chair next to him was empty.
There was still no sign of Donovan.
“Told you I’d save you a seat,” Weston said, hugging me a little tighter than was maybe appropriate for a man who was engaged.
He lingered in the embrace too, which was actually nice after the altercation I’d had outside. Unlike Donovan who was still in his suit, Weston had changed from work clothes to jeans and a T-shirt with a gray button-down sweater.
I patted the fold of his shawl collar. “You look nice.”
His gaze flickered to the very low cut of my dress. “Not as nice as you. I’m glad you made it.” He let his hand trail lightly down my backside then helped me with my jacket.
We were doing this then—flirting. Playing around. It was likely going nowhere considering Weston’s current situation, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t have a little fun if we kept it low-key. He probably needed it after weeks of being cooped up, so to say. I needed it to prove once and for all that he was exactly the kind of man I wanted to be with.
Once we were both seated, Weston draped his arm over the back of my chair. “We’ve already ordered a ton of appetizers. We were thinking about getting a bunch of dumplings too and just sharing them all family style. Or you can get an entrée if you’d rather.”
“No. Dumplings are good.” I honestly didn’t have much of an appetite. I was restless and distracted. My blood was still soaring with adrenaline and my skin felt itchy. “And a drink. A martini please.”
Donovan finally came in from outside, which was a strange relief. When I’d thought he’d left, I’d wondered why I was even still out myself.
Then he saw me, saw who I was sitting next to, and his expression grew hard and defiant, and my irritation returned.
I put a hand on Weston’s arm and feigned excitement. “Look who’s here!”
“Donovan!” Weston and Nate said in unison along with a few other employees.
Donovan smiled tightly as he greeted and congratulated people, but one eye was always on me. I felt it even when I didn’t see it.
I’d thought I’d lucked out when there weren’t any seats by us, but Tom and his wife had been sitting across from us, and now they had tickets to a show so they got up to leave just as Donovan was looking for a place to scoot in.
Weston checked something on his phone, and I leaned in closer to him, just to show that I could, and Weston, who still had one hand on my chair, moved it closer so his fingers brushed against my shoulder.
It was obviously intentional, and Donovan noticed so I shivered. On purpose.
It might have been my imagination, but I swore I heard him growl.
Weston had quite a different reaction. He moved his arm from behind me to in front of me—beneath the table. On my knee.
Only the truly perceptible would have noticed.
“Scotch. Straight,” Donovan said, his eyes still pinned on me, when the waiter took his order. He’d noticed where Weston’s hand had gone.
Not that I was paying attention to anything Donovan said or did.
We continued like that for a while—Donovan noticing me, me “not” noticing him, Weston playing with his phone and playing with my thigh. Without words, I could tell Donovan was more than displeased. Even across the table, the tension wrapped around us, as though we were a set, bound together by Cellophane. It smothered, making it hard to breathe. Making it hard to see anything outside of him.
Then things really got interesting.
Shortly after the first round of community dumplings arrived, so did Weston’s fiancée.
“Elizabeth.” Weston’s hand left my leg for the first time since Donovan had arrived. He stood to greet her, surprise written all over his face. “What are you doing here?”
He bent in to kiss her, but just before his mouth met hers, she moved and his lips landed on her cheek, which left him disgruntled at best.
“My fiancé had a celebration,” she said gruffly. “Thought I should be here.”
“I’ll move so you two can sit together,” Nate said, offering to slide into the spot across from Weston.
Elizabeth waved him off. “Don’t be silly. I don’t need to sit by him. I’d much rather sit by Donovan.”
Anyone who heard her would think she was teasing her groom-to-be, but to those in the know, it was obvious the level of tension between the couple had risen significantly.