Page 74 of Friend Zoned

“Then I suggest you go find her. Get out of my office now,” I tell him.

“Who the hell are you?” Quintin stands in front of Aiden and poses that question. I’m sure Aiden takes great pleasure in looking down at him.

“I’m Aiden Walsh,” he says, not sounding the least bit put off by Quintin’s hostile attitude. “Are you here for a free jersey?” When Quintin only stares, he says, “Or an autograph? I can get Wakowski and Harris in here. Chastain’s already left though. He—”

Quintin holds up a hand to Aiden and interrupts him. “I don’t give a shit about any of that.” He’s cussed twice since he got here. He’s always felt that cursing was beneath him, and it was for people with limited vocabulary. He stares into Aiden’s face, straightens up, and says, “I need to speak with my wife.”

“Then go find her,” Aiden says. “Whoever and wherever she is.” His voice is now hard as stone and cold as ice. Even I take a step back. The only time I’ve ever seen him angry has been on television. He leaves all of that behind when we’re together.

Quintin takes only one step toward me before Aiden intercepts him. He’s almost a foot taller than Quintin, and I take glee when he must look up. An involuntary laugh slips out, but I sober up.

“Quintin, get the hell out of my office and go be with your pregnant girlfriend.” I cross the room, open the door, and gesture for him to get out. He moves, but it’s only to get away from Aiden, not to leave my office.

“A baby?” Aiden asks, doing his best to act surprised. “You don’t say. Congratulations.”

“Jeannie, Eve just said—” Layla bursts through the door and stops short. Her eyes go wide, and she grins. “I thought she was pulling my leg, but I guess not.” She takes her favorite position against the wall and crosses her arms.

“Who is she?” Quintin asks, pointing at Layla. “And why the hell is she always here?”

“Because she works here, unlike you. Why the hell areyoualways here?” I ask him.

“I came here to address the fact that my shower was ruined.” He sounds like a petulant child. He straightens and throws back his shoulders, doing a poor job of looking confident.

“Oh? How so?” I sigh and sit at my desk. I grab a pen and notepad to make it look like I’m ready to take notes.

“My guests were distracted.”

I put the legal pad down and toss the pen across my desk. “Not much I can do about your guests being distracted.”

Aiden chuckles and Layla puts a hand to her mouth to smother her laughter.

“You did this. Your mother works for that Colt Chastain, and you set this up to get back at me. You’re so damn petty. And how much did it cost you to get him to pretend to be your boyfriend? As if someone like him would—”

For a big guy, Aiden’s fast. In a blink, he’s standing in front of Quintin and pointing at his face. “I’d shut up now,” he warns.

“Oh shit,” Layla whispers.

“As if someone like him wouldwhat?” I ask. As much as I’d love for Aiden to deck him, Quintin will make trouble, and that might cause problems for him and his career. I stand and rub the middle of Aiden’s back, and that seems to calm him. He doesn’t move away, but I know he’d never risk getting me hurt while he’s beating the crap out of Quintin.

“He’d never be with you. You and your mother are something else. I convinced her to take that job. I never should have bothered to read that NDA Chastain had her sign—”

“First, that’s the last time you talk about my mother, Quintin. One more word about her and your teeth are going to get knocked out. Second, how am I to blame for your guests being distracted? Whatever the hell that means, and—”

“They left to go take pictures and get free shit in the restaurant.” He looks at Aiden with pure disdain. “From him,” he practically spits out.

“And I’m supposed to what? Control them? Stop them from going into a public restaurant? Get the fuck out of here. And none of this would have happened if you hadn’t insisted on having your little shower here. You want to talk about petty? Look in the mirror. But in case you don’t get it, let me say it to your face. I don’t care about you, Camille, or your baby. All this that you’re doing only makes you look pathetic.”

He stares at Aiden, who doesn’t seem to flinch under Quintin’s icy glare. In fact, he almost looks bored by it.

“Whatever. I don’t buy this.” He gestures toward me and Aiden. Layla lets out a very unladylike snort.

“Good thing I’m not trying to sell you anything. Newsflash. I don’t care about you,” I taunt. “I don’t care what you think.”

“Your mother—”

“I warned you about mentioning my mother.”

“She had Chastain do this.”

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