Page 7 of Break the Rule
“Uh-huh.”
“I think he’s from out of town. He asked me if I knew any good hotels when I was getting our drinks.”
“Annie.”
“What?”
“He was hitting on you.”
“No, he asked if I knew any hotels around town that were good and—oh.” Andrew straightens. “Well, it looks like he’s moved on. He’s hitting on that server now. Not that they look very happy about it.”
Charlie’s head swivels, eyes honing in on the cream suit guy’s lascivious gaze and the way the douchebag lays his hand on the server’s chest just moments after all but eye-fucking Andrew for the last half an hour. To make things even more annoying, the server he’s flirting with is someone Charlie recognizes instantly—that familiar head of white blond hair and delicate features unmistakable. Even from across the room his glitter eyeshadow shimmers, and Charlie is hit with a staggering wave of arousal. This attraction is tempered by something far less pleasant when the man strokes a finger down the server’s chest.
Despite the polite smile plastered on the server’s face, his body language screams discomfort, and Charlie is moving without a second thought, hurrying across the room. Once he’s close enough to hear, his anger at this cream suited dickface only increases.
“Aw, come on. A pretty thing like you would look nice in my Bentley.”
“I’d get it dirty,” the server—Charlie suddenly remembers his name is Ron—replies. He doesn’t look like a Ron, but who is Charlie to judge? Well, he judges a lot if he’s being honest, but he’s polite enough to keep those thoughts between himself and Andrew.
“We could both get itdirty,” the man smirks, inching close enough that the tray of hors d'oeuvres Ron is holding wobbles slightly. Taking a step backwards, Ron tightens his hold on the tray.
“You might want to try looking for something that’s on the menu tonight, sir.” Ron shoves the tray at him. “It’s pufferfish. When not prepared correctly it can be deadly, but I’m sure we won’t get so lucky tonight.”
The man looks entirely unsure what to make of the interaction, especially when Charlie snickers.
Ron turns to look at him, raising one eyebrow.
“Oh look, there’s an eligible rich asshole—I mean bachelor. He’s available, maybe you should try and get his number.”
Rendered speechless, Charlie can do nothing but gape as Ron smiles, making his retreat and leaving Charlie alone with the cream suit douchebag.
“You want to get out of here?” he asks.
“I’m going to pass. You were literally just hitting on someone else, and you’ve been eye-fucking my brother all night.”
“He can join us,” the guy stays, stepping into Charlie’s personal space. “I wanted you anyway, but you were busy, so I figured he was the next best thing, but if you’re available—” Charlie tunes the rest of what he says out, white hot rage flooding his veins at someone having the audacity to insult Andrew.
“He’s not worth it,” Andrew whispers, squeezing Charlie’s shoulder. “Come on.”
“This fucker?—”
“Is loaded,” Andrew whispers, stepping between Charlie and the guy in the suit. “He’s also on the investment firm for downtown. I knew he looked familiar, so I googled him when you walked away. You can’t afford to do whatever it is you’re thinking about right now unless you want to be blacklisted.”
“He called you the next best thing,” Charlie hisses.
“I’ve been called much worse, Charlie.” Andrew doesn’t look shocked or offended, and that makes Charlie want to break something. He’s so fucking sick of people acting like Andrew is a substitute for him. He’d burn all his popularity and talent to the ground if he thought it might make things easier for Andrew, but he knows Andrew would never want that. All Andrew has ever wanted is for all of his brothers to be happy.
“Annie.”
“It’s okay, Charlie.” Andrew squeezes his shoulder. “Come on, let's go see how many overpriced hors d'oeuvres we can eat.”
“You’re manipulating me again,” Charlie grumbles, eyes on the cream suit dickbag as he shakes his head and walks across the gallery, thankfully far away from Andrew and Ron.
“It’s not my fault it’s so easy,” Andrew smirks, leading Charlie towards the back doors where they’re more likely to run into the servers coming in and out of the kitchen with the trays. It’s also conveniently further away from most of the patrons who clearly want to be closer to the luxury of the main gallery room and not right next to the back doors where catering is.
Andrew leans against the wall, crossing his arms. “So that was the guy, huh? He’s pretty.”
“He is pretty, right? Even you noticed it.”
