Page 47 of Wreck Me

‘You’re a fucking dark horse.’ Caelon’s bright eyes blaze appraisingly. ‘Isabella will be so thrilled to have another female in the family.’

The family.

The words make my heart clench with longing.

‘Where’s Isabella?’ James asks, scanning the room.

‘With Zara, on the first floor.’ Caelon shrugs.

‘Zara is here?’ James’s voice is thunderous.

‘Relax, Isabella is taking care of her. She’s not going to let her out of her sight.’ Caelon grips James’s forearm.

‘Make sure she doesn’t. Especially with all that other business unresolved.’

Curiosity kindles like a flame, but I don’t ask any questions. He’s paying me to be his fake girlfriend, not to nag him like a real one.

‘Speaking of which, I need a word.’ Killian’s features form into a deep frown.

‘Sure.’ James scans the room again.

‘In private.’ Killian’s head jerks in the direction of the door.

‘I’ll keep an eye on Scarlett for you.’ Rian smirks. Clearly, he enjoys poking an angry bear.

‘And I’ll keep an eye on Rian.’ Caelon’s elbow connects with Rian’s ribs in a playful gesture.

‘Ow, why does everyone keep hitting me?’

I stretch up onto my toes and lift my lips to James’s ear. ‘I might just go to the ladies’ restroom to freshen up.’

James pauses for a long beat. ‘Meet me back here in five minutes.’

‘I will.’ He inches down until his full lips meet mine in a fleeting kiss, marking his territory for everyone to see.

It might only have lasted two seconds, and it might have been for show, but it still sends a hot thrill thrumming through my blood.

Chapter Twenty-Three

SCARLETT

I stare at myself in the huge, gilded mirror over the basin. My dark hair is loose in bouncing waves across my back, and my skin is flushed from the permanent state of arousal caused by James’s close proximity.

It’s easier to deny him when he’s God knows where on business. Resisting him in the flesh is testing every ounce of my willpower.

Being on his arm is intoxicating.

Being in his company is intoxicating.

I can only imagine what being in his bed would be like.

Two stunning women fall through the restroom door giggling like schoolgirls. Their laughter is infectious. The blonde is wearing a silver sequinned midi dress that’s so beautifully cut it must have cost at least four figures. She looks to be older than me, maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight. The brunette is wearing a simple but elegant black dress. She barely looks old enough to be in a club. Her huge dark eyes twinkle with fun. There’s something familiar about them.

‘If James sees you getting chatted up, there will be murders, Zara,’ the blonde warns.

Zara?

This has to be James’s sister.

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