“Is it that hard for you to come to grips with the fact that you might not win this?” I throw back, ignoring his innuendo about Harlow. “Does it mean that much to you that you’d come here to try and sabotage my stake in this?”
Privileged fucking rich boy. I love the asshole to death but hate the nasty side that comes out—the tantrums he throws—when he doesn’t come out on top or get his way. It’s never bothered me before . . . but something about the way he looked at Harlow—like she was up for grabs—rubbed me wrong.
I know how he operates. How he uses and then discards without a thought. And I know when he saw Harlow, he was already figuring how to have her.
Fuck that.
“I told you, Zane. I’ll be fine. The market is on an upswing. I’ll make back what I lost and then some. When have you ever known me to fail?”
“Then why are you here trying to fuck with mine?”
“I’d fuck with her . . . no doubt there. Is Harlow that good that you’re a one-pussy-loving-man now?”
“She’s not available.”
“They’re always available when it comes to me.” His chuckle again. “Look around, Zane. There are twenty women here vying for your attention. They’d love to let you stick your dick in them . . . why are you wasting your time with one woman when you can have one, two, three of them at a time?”
“I love you to death, mate. You’re like a brother to me. But this—SoulM8—and her—Harlow—better stay free of your fingerprints. We’ve known each other way too long for you to pull bullshit like that with me.”
Kostas holds my glare and brings his glass up to his lips without breaking eye contact. He’s not used to this, being challenged. And he sure as hell isn’t used to being told no.
He looks over his shoulder to find the waitress, lifts his finger to signal another round, and then like a man always used to getting what he wants, points to three women on the outside of the ropes and motions for them to sit with us.
He watches them walk our way but speaks to me. “So this is real then? She’s real? It’s not some negotiation tactic to sell your company?”
“Why would you say that?”
The women stand at the foot of the U-shaped couch and wait for Kostas to point them where to sit: one beside him, one between us, and one on the other side of me.
But I don’t look their way. Don’t meet their eyes. I refuse to give them an open invitation to something I don’t want to give.
“Because you’re you. A dog when it comes to getting what you want. Besides, I’ve never seen you like this with a woman.”
“People change,” I murmur and then remove the perfectly manicured hand slowly sliding up my leg and return it to its owner without a glance.
“Only when they are motivated by something.” He turns his face and kisses the woman on his left. “So she somehow has to tie into this. Into you winning. That much I know.” A kiss on the lips of the woman to his right. “Either that or her pussy has to be of the magical variety, and if that’s the case, you’re holding out on me.”
“Not your business,” I say, bringing my glass to my lips and shifting away suddenly when the woman beside me leans in and tries to place a kiss on my cheek. She groans in protest.
Kostas notices and lifts an eyebrow.
In the past I’d have let her walk those fingers right up to my dick. Let her tease me with them. Let her show me how bad she wants it.
But fuck if I’m in the mood right now. Fuck if I’m going to let her touch me when my mind keeps thinking of Harlow. Of the goddamn foreplay we’ve been having to prove to the other we’re not fazed.
She fazes me all right. Grabs me by the balls and makes me want like I’ve never wanted before.
“I can fuck her if you need me to verify she’s worth the confusion on your face and justify the downright travesty of you rejecting our friend here,” Kostas says with a lift of his chin to the woman beside me.
I scoot forward in my seat and put my elbows on my knees. “She’s not my friend. She’s yours. And I love you, Kos, but it’s time that I leave and you go.”
“Worried she’ll want me over you?”
“You’re an arrogant SOB, you know that?”
“Just like you.” He smirks and slides his hand up the thigh of the woman beside him without breaking eye contact with me. “You’ve never been able to stay mad at me for long.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur and down the rest of my drink in one, long swallow.
“It was good to see you, Zane.”
No, it wasn’t, I think to myself.
“Good luck with your meetings.”
He nods, and just like that, he moves on to the women around him without caring about the ripples he’s just made into waves.
I take the Uber back across town, where the streets of Atlanta are busy and alive, but all I keep thinking about is Harlow.
Since when did I become so defensive when it comes to her?
I’m at the hotel within thirty minutes, entering the lobby toward the ballroom.
“Must be nice to up and leave without even saying a word.” Harlow’s voice is cold and her expression isn’t much better when I turn to find her sitting in a chair off to the left. Her arms are folded across her chest, and those long legs of hers crossed at the knee are bouncing up and down in irritation.