Page 60 of Oliver
Of course they'd fucking heard us.
"Beck!” One of the groomsmen clapped me on the back, smirking. “Haven’t seen you around much today. Late night?"
I was already moving before I could think, throwing an arm around Zahra, tucking her against my side, claiming her. If they were going to talk, they’d talk on my terms.
“Hey,” I said easily, squeezing her close. “Better to be the one keeping everyone up than the one kept up.”
The table howled with laughter.
“And that’s all I’m going to comment on ourpersonalmatters.”
Zahra let out a breath so soft only I could hear it. A silent thank you.
And then, of course, Ryan opened his fucking mouth.
“If you don’t want people talking,” he said, ice cubes clinking against glass as he swirled the amber liquid around, “don’t give them something to talk about.”
I wasthisclose to snapping something back, but Zahra beat me to it, leaning forward, tilting her head just so, eyes big and innocent.
“Did we ruin your beauty sleep?” she asked, all honey-sweet condescension. “You always were grouchy when you didn’t get enough rest.”
The table lost it, Ryan’s grip on his lowball tightened, and something dark and primitive thrummed through me.
He’d heard her. Heard her screaming my name. Heard the headboard slamming, the way she begged me to take her harder, deeper,more.
And he hated it.
I grinned at him, slow and sharp, then raised my mimosa.Cheers, motherfucker.
It was petty. Unprofessional. And I couldn’t care less.
"Okay, you rowdy lot, we have a tight schedule today," Zahra said, smoothly redirecting the conversation as she distributedsmall folders to the wedding party. "Brunch until half-past-noon, then at one we'll head to the Rose Garden at the Historical Society for photos."
I watched, proud and impressed, as she navigated the group back to wedding logistics.
"Bride and groom portraits first, then we'll do family groupings, followed by wedding party shots." Her hands trembled slightly as she handed Ryan his folder, but her voice was steady, authoritative. "We're splitting into men's and women's groups for some of the shots to save time."
The realization hit me like a supernova shockwave, expanding rapidly through my consciousness, rearranging my mental state in its wake.
The photoshoot meant mixed groups.
I'd planned to use this time for research and reconnaissance, preparing for tomorrow morning's visit to the records hall.
Mixed groups meant Ryan and Zahra together.
The entire purpose of my trip to Norman hinged on distributing my time and efforts efficiently.
It meant Ryan had opportunity.
I should be planning my exit, not hyper-aware of Ryan watching Zahra with increasing deadly hunger in his eyes.
It meant handing Zahra over on a silver platter.
"Any chance I can tag along?" The words were out before I could think.
Zahra’s head snapped toward me, startled. Across the table, Ryan’s smirk faltered.
I didn’t care.
