Page 116 of Bossy Wicked Prince
But everyone’s already seen me, and it’ll make me look weak and pitiful if I leave now. Besides, I’ll have to see Nate eventually, since I’m still working in the same building. I might as well get it over with and get paid.
So I plaster on my best customer service smile and walk inside to cheers from the guys.
“Well, well, well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Luke cries.
“Took you long enough,” says Beau.
“Hello,” says James.
Ryan doesn’t say anything. He just ambushes me with a hug, lifting me off my feet and squeezing me hard.
“Put me down!” I squeal, sounding way less domineering than I wish I did.
“Fine,” he says, dropping me right next to Nate’s chair. When I land, Nate pushes to his feet. My breath catches—I don’t want him to ignore me, but I’m not sure I’m ready to talk. I miss him so much, I might cave.
But he doesn’t even look at me. Instead, he’s glaring at Beau.
“Let’s talk,” he snarls.
I let out a breath when he practically drags Beau into the corner. The other guys and I watch them shamelessly as they speak in voices too low to hear. The body language is clear, though—Nate is pissed, and Beau doesn’t give a shit. My chest feels tight. Nate’s anger fills the room like thick, heavy smoke. Even though Beau annoyed him, I’m the one he’s really furious about.
“Don’t worry, Cat,” Luke says quietly. “He really is happy to see you.”
I raise my brows. “Are you sure about that?”
Ryan puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles. “Bros! You want to share with the group?”
Beau and Nate exchange one last glance before they both come back to the table. Nate’s jaw is clenched so hard, I can practically hear his teeth grinding together. He’s not happy, but he’s not stopping this.
Whyisn’the stopping this? There’s no way he wants to see me any more than I want to see him. The wounds are too fresh, and the temptation to forget everything is way too strong.
Whatever. Nate and I are broken up, which means I don’t have to sit around puzzling out why he does the things he does. I raise my chin and ask, “What can I get you all?”
“Whiskey,” Luke and Beau say in unison. James lifts his glass to indicate the same.
Nate, of course, says nothing.
I frown. There’s already a bottle of Twisted Devil on the table, and I know this crowd isn’t shy about refilling themselves. “Did you want a different kind of whiskey?”
“Oh, that bottle’s for Ryan,” Beau says. “For his penalty.”
“Penalty?”
“Every time he wins a hand, he has to take a shot to keep things fair.”
“They can’t handle my talent,” Ryan says.
“You literally play poker for a living,” Luke notes. “It would be pathetic if you weren’t better than us.”
“Is he really going to finish that whole bottle by himself, though?” I ask.
“He’s done it before,” James mutters.
“So they’ll have their own whiskeys, and for me, an espresso martini,” Ryan says. The other guys groan, and he points his finger. “Hey, they’re delicious. My masculinity isn’t so fragile that I can’t admit it. Make one for yourself too, Cat.”
“I’m working.”
“I won’t tell.” He winks, and I have to admit that I get why so many women fall for him. Ryan makes everything fun, and when he looks at you, it feels like he’s giving you 100 percent of his attention.
