Page 86 of Twisted Shot
Her mind is spinning as she squints at him apprehensively. “Please don’t make me regret this.”
Carter salutes with his champagne flute. "You won't." He spins on his heel and saunters off, whistling some jaunty little tune like he doesn't have a care in the world.
Theo steps closer, his voice low with concern. "You sure this is a good idea? Jake was willing to do it."
"I know." The words come out as a tortured groan. "But Richard's threatening to twist it into something inappropriate since Jake's dating Natalie. Says I need a current player to avoid the optics."
Theo's gaze follows Carter's retreating form. "I'll keep himout of trouble."
She turns to him, her throat tight.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
Her heart trips again as she searches his face—what little of it she can see—and wants, desperately, to reach for more.
But she’s still holding a tablet, and the room is still full of donors, and there’s still an event to run.
“Thank you,” she says. And she means it more than he probably realizes.
He gives her a slight nod. “Go do your thing.”
CHAPTER 30
THEO
Theo finds Carter near the side of the stage, listening to Naomi as she goes over the cue cards, one by one.
Jake’s there too, arms crossed, looking amused but skeptical as he watches Carter fumble his way through a line about corporate sponsors and community partnership.
When Theo joins them, Carter grins and lifts his hand like he’s about to high-five the sun. “Look who it is! Prince Theo, my man.”
Theo doesn’t smile. He’s not here for jokes.
He moves in quietly, positioning himself behind Naomi, arms folded, every muscle tense beneath the tux. He watches Carter sway a little too much for comfort as he squints down at the cards in his hands.
“The donor shout-outs are in this section,” Naomi says, tapping the middle of the script. “Keep it light, and please—please—don’t improvise anything.”
Carter squints at the cue card like it’s written in another language. “Got it. No jazz hands. Got it.”
Jake tilts his head, frowns. “You good, man?”
“Peachy,” Carter says, flashing a grin that’s loosearound the edges.
Theo’s jaw tightens.
Because now that he’s close, it’s obvious.
Carter’s not tipsy. Not charmingly buzzed. He’s drunk.
He’s trying to hold it together, but the words slur. His posture sags before snapping upright again like he knows he’s being watched.
And Naomi knows it too.
She gives Theo a sideways glance, brows raised in question.
“What is happening right now?” she hisses. “Why would Mila switch to him if he’s like this?”
