Page 130 of Fumbled Into Love

“She’s a—” I pause. “I have nothing kind to say and if I finish my statement, I may come off as wildly anti-feminist when the reality is she is a horrible human being.”

“Alright?”

“She’s also Deon’s ex-fiancée,” I say, cataloging her every movement. She lifts a perfectly manicured hand, sipping a martini as she laughs.

“Oh shit. Let’s fight her. I think I have a few inches on her. I can take her.”

Sawyer and I spin to look at Maren, who has a violent gleam in her eye. For once in my life, I share Maren’s urge to fight.A solid punch to her evil face would be a glorious victory. My fingers curl into a fist.

It would feel so, so good to pop her in the nose, but starting a brawl at a high-profile charity auction seems like a surefire way to get blacklisted at all future events.

“I’m gonna go talk to her,” I say, with much more bravado than I feel.

This ends tomorrow, but tonight, I’m Deon’s fake girlfriend and that means I’m going to give Savannah a piece of my mind.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sawyer asks warily.

No. It’s probably a horrible idea, but I’m two drinks deep and the woman who made Deon believe he is unworthy of love is standing on the other side of the room. I have to say something. I don’t know what, but…something.

“Do it,” Maren declares and I let those words settle deep in my chest, right beside the indignation.

My brain scrambles for something I could say to her and as Sawyer brings her drink to her lips, my eyes snag on her diamond ring.

“Give me your ring,” I demand, holding out my palm.

“What?”

“Give me the ring. You can have it back in a minute.”

Sawyer's brows furrow but Maren slips off her ring and slaps it into the palm of my hand.

“If you need me, I’ll be watching like a hawk at the table,” she says, smacking my ass before leaving. Squaring my shoulders, I take a deep breath and beeline in her direction, ready to face the woman who destroyed Deon’s belief in love.

CHAPTER 29

“Baby, loving you’s the real thing”

Daydreaming – Harry Styles

Deon

Every nerve in my body seizes as Nathalie weaves across the room. My eyes haven’t left her since she stepped out of the closet, her dress sparking and gleaming as she darts around.

Only once the crowd clears and I can track her trajectory, I’m out of my seat, chasing after her.

“Hey, Deon.” A large hand falls onto my shoulder, halting my pursuit, and I glance up at Davis Owens, a power forward for the Detroit Sun. We were friendly at the University of Texas.

In a rush, I slap him on the shoulder.

“How’s Detroit?” I ask out of politeness, though my eyes never leave Nathalie. She flips her hair and tips her head back in laughter as she reaches Savannah.

I quickly glance back at Davis, whose features flicker.

“I’m getting used to the cold,” he says with a forced smile.

For a brief moment, I leave Nathalie to fight whatever battle she started. Annoyingly, I have to peer up at Davis, who stands at a short 6 '7". He makes Jack look small.

“Not happy about the trade?” I whisper. His trade to Detroit from Los Angeles was all over the news. He never spoke out about the speculation that the front office forced him to leave or the rumors that he isn’t a team player.

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