Chapter Five
Walker
“Take me out,” the woman beside me whines, her voice grating on my last nerve. Even her naked body does nothing to stir me, because my mind is on someone else. All interest I had in the woman beside me has been sated. I wish she’d just leave, but it’s not a bad thing for me to have a date to take to go see Isla.
Still, I don't even bother to glance at her as I thumb through Isla’s social media, watching her face as she talks about her recipes, even though I have my volume muted.
And it dawns on me, I have no idea what her name is - we’re sharing a bed, but I don't remember. Something that starts with S. Sally? Sandra? Silva? It doesn't matter. My interest in remembering her name is about as nonexistent as my current interest in her.
“Sure, get ready,” I say, still watching Isla’s face on screen.
The woman - Sandy? - squeals—the sound like nails on a chalkboard and nearly triggering a migraine—and gets out of bed to hurry and get dressed. I have time. She’ll spend at least half an hour getting ready and putting her face back on.
But when she’s gone, I can breathe again. The quiet is welcome.
When we finally leave, I tune out my date’s chatter, excitement rising in me at the thought of seeing Isla again.
I park my car and her lip curls as she leans forward to look at the bar through the windshield. “Here?” she asks, sounding disgusted. “I thought we’d go dancing, or out to dinner, or something like that.”
Well, she thought wrong, and that’s not my fault. “Trust me, this place is amazing,” I say before getting out, coming around to her door, and opening it for her. She stands up, clearly hesitant, then takes my arm. We make our way to the door, and I’m gestured in by the bouncer, and step inside.
The low light of the bar lends a sense of exclusivity, but my date seems annoyed. I don’t give a damn. I lead her to my usual spot, and she sits beside me. It's not long before she, Isla, appears. When she glances my direction and that soft smile flirts with the corners of her lips, I’d almost swear she can see right through my fa?ade.
“I’m going to the little girl’s room,” my date whispers. “Order me a Blue Hawaiian, please?”
I nod, both not surprised by her order and annoyed with her drink choice. It suits her, I guess. As she walks off, I watch Isla smile at another customer, then make her way toward me.
“Hi, Walker,” she says with a cautious smile. I know she’s the only one here willing to serve me - I’d taken great pains to toe the line of making everyone else here hate me without also being unwelcomeback again. But it means she’s the only one who approaches me and that’s exactly what I want.
“The usual?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper and bringing my body to life. I want to hear her moan my name, beg me to please her-
I nod, cutting those thoughts short.
“And your date?” she asks, nodding at the spot beside me.
“She would like a Blue Hawaiian.”
Isla nods and hurries off, giving me a wonderful view of her rounded ass as she goes.
My date returns, her misgivings about the place clearly having melted away. That or she did something to bring up her mood and energy while in the bathroom. “Did you order?” she asks.
I nod, watching Isla make our drinks before walking them over with a nod at Liam, who seems to be watching her closely. A few moments later, Isla returns, placing my scotch before me and the Blue Hawaiian in front of Sara - was her name Sara?
“What is this?” My date - Stella? - looks up at Isla.
“You asked me to order a Blue Hawaiian.” I’m irritated, but Isla seems determined to smooth things out.
“I can get you something else,” she says, and my date bats her eyelashes in what I assume is supposed to be a flirtatious manner.
“I'll have one of those cute cocktails. One with an umbrella!” She giggles, leaning over to loudly whisper in my ear, “She’s cute!” I know she’s just trying to reclaim my attention. I barely register her words; my focus remains on Isla, who seems uncomfortable.
“Coming right up,” Isla says, her smile lingering as if she didn’t hear my date - or is pretending she didn’t. I give her a wink and charming smile as she turns away. There's a grace to her movements that demands all of my attention, and even though I know better, my gaze follows her until she disappears behind the bar.
“Isn't she sweet?” my date—Serena? —says in a flirty voice, trying to get my attention.
I give an absent nod. I imagine Isla is sweet and I’d love to find out for myself.
“Very,” I say, taking a drink of my scotch.
I still can’t put to words what it is about her that draws me in. That effortless smile, that professional exterior, that air of vulnerability… I want to get to know her, to pull her apart and see what makes her tick. With every encounter, I want to peel back the layers of Isla, to discover what lies beneath that disarming smile.
“I can't wait for my drink,” Savannah—or was it Sophie? —says again, before giggling and putting her hand over mine.
The contact is unwanted, but I don't pull away. Not yet. Because right now, all I can think about is the way Isla looked at me, and how, for a fleeting instant, I imagined what it would be like if she was sitting here with me instead.
I watch Isla weave through tables, talking to customers, laughing with regulars and I’m entranced. She has no idea how seductive she is, I’d bet money on it. And as she bends to retrieve a napkin from the floor, my hands itch with the urge to explore every curve of her body.
“Are you looking at her ass?” The hissing, furious voice by my side yanks my attention back to reality, and I glance at the woman beside me—Samantha? No, that's not right. Her name is a riddle I just can’t solve, just like all the others before her.
I lift my shoulders in a shrug, unbothered by her irritation as I lean back in the booth, arms crossed. Did it really matter if I was staring at another woman’s ass? Does Stephanie think I belong to her? I couldn’t care less what she thinks, and my mind drifts back to Isla.
“God, you're so rude.” As she says the words, the heat of her glare fixes on me. I glance at her and see her face is red, not with the same need they’d been flushed with only a few hours earlier. “You're here with me; you shouldn't be staring at other women.”
Around us, I can feel heads turning as the volume of conversations lower to almost nothing but hushed whispers of judgment.
“Go ahead, make a scene,” I say in an even tone. The last thing I need is another public display, but I already know nothing I say will calm her down. She’s going to pop off like a champagne cork and that’s fine.
“You're an awful man, how dare you!” Sienna's voice rises like a battle cry, and I have a feeling that any moment now some knight in shining armor will show up to save the day and win her favor.
But I can see heads nodding in agreement that I’m the villain. Maybe I am.
I let out a sigh, zoning out until I can’t hear her or anyone else. I'm used to being the topic of hushed gossip, pointed fingers, and assumptions. All of that comes with the territory of being an ex-gang member turned billionaire who never quite escaped his past. And tonight, their judgment means as little to me as it has any other day.
I finish off my scotch and hold my glass up, signaling to a stunned-looking Isla that I’d like more. She nods, bringing the bottle to me and pouring at my table, her body language not hiding her discomfort. But when our eyes meet, I see something strange in her expression, a mix of concern and something else—something that looks a lot like understanding.
Well, that’s unexpected.
A sting sears across my face. Scarlett’s hand hovers, ready to deliver another slap. With a speed born of practice and instinct, I grab her wrist. Her eyes widen, lips parting to let out a gasp as she tries to wrestle free.
“Let go! You're hurting me!” she says, but there's no truth to her claim. My fingers around her wrist are firm but careful. I just want to stop her from slapping me again - I have no intention of hurting her.
I catch sight of Daniel as he cuts through the room, making a beeline toward us.
I release Sadie’s wrist as if she burned me. My face is on fire where she hit me, but no one seems to care that she struck me and I was defending myself by simply stopping her from doing it again. They see what they want to see—a man holding a woman against her will.
I could ask if anyone saw her hit me, I’m sure someone did, if not everyone. But what’s the point? I’m not going to change anyone’s mind, no matter how much I argue… even if I’m right.
“Daniel, she hit him.” Isla’s voice rings out. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
I glance up, meeting Isla’s gaze even though she’s focused on the manager. But her words are met with a chilly attitude, and when I scan the room, all I see are averted eyes and cold shoulders. Like I said, there’s no changing anyone’s minds - even with the truth.
But Daniel shakes his head, his jaw set. “It doesn't matter. You know the drill.”
“Fine.” The word is clipped and obviously a white flag in this battle I’m tired of fighting.
As I stand up to leave, my chest tightens and fury sweeps through me. The whispers follow me across the bar, but I couldn't care less what their opinions of me are. But before I can step out, Daniel speaks up.
“Wait,” he says, making his way toward me.
I face him, wondering what he’s up to. “We’re sick of you fighting here, Walker,” he says in a low tone. “Maybe make yourself scarce for a while.”
I don’t bother wasting my breath on a reply.
My gaze sweeps across the bar, feeling the hate in every stare, the cold judgment of people who just want to feel superior to someone, anyone. There’s already a crowd of men around Susan, but I don’t give a damn about her.
No, it’s Isla's eyes that snag mine—wide, flecked with concern and sadness.
“Sorry,” I mutter to her, though I'm not sure why I'm apologizing to her. She gives a slight nod, her lips parting as if she has something to say, but no words come. Maybe my plan has been working. Though this may have set me back, I made sure to have contingency plans, of course.
I’m ready for the cold night air, but before pushing the door open, I glance back at her one more time. Our eyes lock, and something bolts between us, a shock that has her bringing her fingers to her lips as if I’ve kissed her and that has my body reacting to her in a way it shouldn’t while I’m standing here. Thank God for cold air.
I step out and the door closes behind me. With brisk steps, I shove my hands into my pockets, a smile crossing my face. Now that I think about it, that couldn’t have gone any better than it did. There’s something else I need to do - I pull out my phone and make a call. If they want to start a war, I’ll ride into battle tonight.