Page 72 of The Prince's Game
“Hey, sweetheart!” Billy flapped his arms around in an obnoxious pattern. I picked my jaw up off the floor and started toward the drunk man. It would give Evan time to disappear if he entered the bar by mistake.
I folded my arms on the bar. “What can I get you?”
“Well, my buddies and I were thinkin’.” Nothing good ever followed that phrase. “What time do ya get off work?”
“Too late for you.” I smiled to soften my rejection. “You’ll be back on campus before I’m finished up here.”
“Nah, we could wait.” He waggled his brows. “You’d be worth it.”
“Oh, I’d be more than worth it, but I have to get some sleep tonight, and somehow I doubt that’s what you have in mind.” I walked away before he could ask again. If he pushed too much, Chuck would throw his drunk ass outside, and I didn’t want to do that to the poor kid.
I refilled a few drinks for others who approached the bar, and started when Evan took a stool two seats down from Billy. “I decided what I want to drink, if you don’t mind.”
I cocked an eyebrow at the impatient billionaire. “Bourbon?”
He gave a single nod. “Top shelf, please.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” I snatched a bottle of Old Crow from the bottom shelf and poured two fingers over some ice cubes. I handed it to him with a wink. “Enjoy.”
The look he gave the liquid was one of grave offense. “This shit tastes like battery acid.”
“So I hear.” He deserved that and worse.
I helped a few customers waving at me. Evan’s glass was untouched when I returned. With his arms folded, his grey shirt stretched over his biceps. The wicked glint in his gaze made me nervous. I’d seen that look enough to know he was up to no good. Frat boy caught my attention first, stating he wanted to close out his tab. I helped him before returning my attention to the handsome man at the bar.
“What are you doing here, Evan?” His not leaving when he had the chance meant he was here for me, but I had no idea why. He made himself crystal clear when we parted seven weeks ago.
“Well, you know, it’s an interesting thing. I could have sworn I set aside a few million dollars to fund this marketing firm, but for whatever reason, the owner hasn’t used a dime of it. Odd, right?”
Of course.He was here about his precious money. “Maybe the owner changed her mind.”
“Hmm, no, I don’t think so. She told me it was her dream to manage her own firm and focus on public health programs. I doubt she’d give that up without a good reason.”
“Dreams change.”
“True.” He swirled his drink. “But I don’t think this one has, which is why I’m here.”
I was too exhausted from working three jobs to continue our witty banter. “What do you want me to say, Evan?”
He placed his elbows on the bar. “I want you to explain to me why you’re working here and living with Rachel instead of using the funds I set aside for you.”
I wanted to tell him it was none of his fucking business, but that wasn’t true. He set aside funds for an investment that wasn’t proving fruitful, and wanted to know why. This was a business visit. He could have saved time by calling.
“Look, I’ll make this short so you can get on your way. I’m not opening my own firm, so keep the money and do something else with it. I’ll sign whatever contract you want to relinquish the funds. Just give it to Rachel, and she’ll handle the rest.” I took his glass and dumped it in the sink on my way to the end of the bar. I needed a break. Jill was waiting tables off to the side and saw me coming. “I need five minutes.”
“Sure thing,” the redhead murmured, taking over the bar. She was in her forties and a veteran at Louie’s. That was why she got the tables, while I handled the bar. The seated patrons paid better than those who mingled by the stools, but I got more foot traffic.
I leaned against the wall in the back room with my hands on my knees. I felt sick to my stomach. My heart withered into a ball and died when he confirmed that he was here on business. He was married to his work. That took priority over all else. A month and a half later, and seeing him still took my breath away. His windswept, dark hair, sinful gaze, and muscular physique drew my eyes like a moth to a flame. And I hated him for it. I looked like hell turned over in comparison.
I slid down to the floor and put my head in my palms. Tears gathered in my eyes, but I swallowed them back. I would not cry here. Not at work. Not over him. Not again.
“I’m not interested in drafting a new contract, Miss Summers. I want to discuss the old one.”
37
Misconceptions
“What are you doing back here?” I expected him to leave, not hunt me down in the employees’ break room. His presence took up all the available space in the tiny area, making my heart race. He leaned against the doorway, crossing his jean-clad legs at the ankles.
