Page 8 of Ambrosia Kisses
Something about that bothers her. She jerks like I slapped her, her face paling. "You are an–"
Lucy coughs, cutting her off mid-sentence.
Paisley immediately snaps her mouth closed, inhaling a deep breath. "It's good to see you again, Ridley," she says, her tone softer this time. Her eyes, though? Those don't lie. They practically shoot fire at me.
"Is it?" It certainly doesn't feel good to me. Nothing about this does. Everything in me wants to snatch her into my arms and never let her go. But she isn't mine. She never was. She's just a beautiful little liar who played me like a fucking drum.
I cut a glance at Oliver and Lucy, who are watching us like this is a ping pong match instead of actual torture. "I've got shit to do," I mutter, already walking away. "See ya."
I don't look back. I fucking can't.
Maybe I should have stayed my ass in Italy.
Paisley is haunting me.She's been on the property for all of a few hours, and she's already all over the fucking place. Like right now. I'm just trying to enjoy a goddamn beer at the bar, and she's seated a few tables away with Lucy.
Every few minutes, her sultry laugh floats through the room. My blood is fucking boiling, and I'm not entirely sure if it's furyor desire. I'm pissed because she seems so happy. And my cock has never been harder.
It's infuriating.
What is so funny?
She peeks up at me before quickly yanking her gaze away, her shoulders going back like she's wading into the middle of a damn war or something. And then she laughs again.
My balls throb.
I stifle a groan, gripping my bottle like it's a lifeline.
"If you don't talk to Bastian soon, I may pay someone to send him through one of the crushers."
I rip my gaze away from Paisley, scowling as my cousin, Trystan, saunters toward me from the opposite direction, his face a mask of frustration.
"If you're going to kill him, don't fuck up a crusher doing it," I mutter. "I don't want to pay to fix it when his big ass head gets stuck in the machine."
Trystan grunts, dropping onto a stool beside me at the bar. "The man is out of control."
"How is that any different than any other day?" Bastian is Bastian. He's always been an anal-retentive pain in the ass. He's smart as hell, though. And, despite being a control freak, we actually get along. Usually. He and Trystan have always been closer, though, so I'm not sure why Tryst is so bent out of shape now.
"Every goddamn time I find a new alcohol supplier for your project, he finds two reasons they aren't good enough," Tryst complains.
I peek over at Paisley's table again to find her listening attentively to Lucy. She glances up at me, and our eyes lock. Fuck.
She's still so damn beautiful.
Has she missed me at all? Does she think of me? Regret walking away?
"Are you even listening to me?" Trystan mutters.
I rip my gaze away from Paisley, which just leaves me feeling cold. She's always been sunshine. The whole goddamn world is colder without her. It has been for three years. Funny how I never noticed it until she was gone. Before her, I thought I was happy. I thought I had everything I needed. And then she ripped the rug out from underneath me. Two weeks with her, and nothing has been the same since.
"Ridley!" Trystan growls.
"Goddamn. I'm listening." I narrow my eyes at him. "If your suppliers aren't good enough, aim higher. We're looking for quality, not convenience."
"There's nothing wrong with my suppliers."
"There is if Bastian won't sign off on them."
"Might send you through the crusher too, motherfucker." Tryst shoots me a disgruntled look before motioning for Huck to bring him a beer, but he doesn't disagree with me. He knows he can't. Bastian may be a lot of things, but wrong isn't one of them, and with us adding hard liquor to our brand for the first time, we need to nail it right out of the gate. Our name depends on it.
