Chapter 10 #2
Bea turned to apologize, to stammer something about how this wasn’t fair to him, but Jaxon had already heard it too.
A flicker of his eyebrows, the barest twitch of acknowledgment. “Relax. There are worse things to be called than your rebound.”
Her laugh was strangled, grateful, and mortified at once.
Before she could answer, Hunter leaned in. “Dao, what’s your opinion on the recent IPO of Gincom?”
The timing was impeccable. Adam flagged down a tray, passing fresh glasses around, and within seconds the men were clinking crystal and dissecting stock prices.
It gave the women their opening. They edged a half step back, champagne flutes lifted, eyes already sparkling with conspiratorial delight.
Georgina tipped her glass toward Bea. “So. You waltz in with Jaxon Dao and expect us not to have questions?”
“We’re friends,” Bea stressed. “That’s the whole article.”
“Mm,” Isabel drawled, cool as her silver gown. “Friends.”
“It’s true,” she insisted. “You literally told me I couldn’t show up alone.”
“I approve of your friend, Bey. He’s very cute.” Naomi’s grin was wicked. “But the real question is…did your gatekeeper approve?”
Bea sputtered into her glass. “Not exactly.” Her eyes darted to Isabel, half hope, half dread. “Is he coming?”
“Of course he was invited. Who knows if he’ll show, though. He often doesn’t.” Isabel slid her a sidelong look. “But since you’re here, I’d say the Lumen party will be graced by a Griffin tonight.”
Bea’s stomach was a trampoline, and every acrobat in the circus had decided to practice on it at once.
She spun toward Georgie, who was far too entertained. “What about you? Shouldn’t we be planning your engagement party by now?”
“It’s too soon,” Georgina sing-songed, earrings swinging with the movement.
“Two years?” Lillian sipped. “That’s common-law marriage in some countries.”
“He’s gonna want a ring on it, Georgie,” Naomi said. “You can’t dangle him forever.”
“I know.” Georgina fiddled with one earring, feigning innocence. “Forget Hunter for a moment. You walked in with the entrée. Dante is divine.”
“Isn’t he?” Isabel’s eyes glittered. “He’s a director.”
“What’s he like off-set?” Lillian asked.
Isabel could barely keep the snicker off her face. “He reads scripts in bed.”
“Does he assign you parts?” Georgie tapped Isabel’s arm with her purse.
“Only the juicy parts,” Isabel replied slyly.
The girls laughed, champagne sloshing perilously close to spilling on Bea’s gown.
“How was the hike with Adam, Lillian?” Georgina asked, eyes flicking to where he was standing in deep discussion with the men.
Lillian put her hand over Georgina’s mouth, whispering, “Shhh. Don’t bring it up in front of him. He wants to go again. I’d have to fake an injury.”
Ladylike snorts broke through, Georgina fanning herself theatrically once Lillian let go.
“Ugh, why don’t we do this often anymore?” Bea shifted in her heels. They looked amazing and made her nearly as tall as Jaxon. It only cost a little blood circulation.
“I say it’s Naomi’s fault,” Isabel said blandly.
“Wedding ring, fewer girls’ nights.” Naomi shrugged.
“What if we did weekday mornings?” Bea suggested.
“Yes! We could brunch like retirees,” Lillian added giddily.
“With matching velour tracksuits and early bird mimosas.” Georgina completed the dream.
They dissolved into giggles again. The kind that left Bea warm, chest light. She missed this.
The men drifted back, glasses in hand, as an usher urged the crowd farther into the room. Jaxon’s palm rested at the small of her back as they trailed a few steps behind the others.
“Should I be worried about whatever I just walked into?” he asked.
Still grinning, cheeks warm, she turned to reply—then her smile cracked and froze.
Rafael cut into the space like a fault line. Dark blue suit, molded to his body like he’d been poured into it, the kind of presence that bent a room before he even spoke. Even in a sea of tuxedos, he was singular.
Bea knew at once, from a single glance at his face, how this looked to him.
Heat prickled under her skin; part defiance, because she was allowed to stand here with a friend if she wanted; part apology, because she hadn’t meant it like this. She hadn’t meant to bait him, or put Jaxon in the crosshairs.
She’d intended to slow things down. But as Rafael made a beeline for her, she realized she’d done the opposite. Whatever this was between them was moving forward with every step he took.
RAFAEL
Rafael had planned to play the evening with restraint.
An appearance, a drink with Isabel’s father, the perfunctory parade of handshakes. And then Bea. Just long enough to remind her of the mats, to catch her blush under his gaze, to leave her restless and thinking only of him.
But the instant he stepped into the opera house and saw her on Jaxon Dao’s arm, that resolve went up in flames.
Dao.
Black tuxedo, her black dress, his hand at her back. Not heat, but suggestion. It was enough to sour Rafael’s mouth.
Irritation corkscrewed in his chest. Not at her, not exactly, but at the idea of being shut out. His eyes pinned hers, noting the momentary flare of alarm in her brown eyes.
Dao leaned closer to her ear then, and Rafael’s jaw tightened in response. He didn’t break stride, didn’t let his face shift more than a shade. But his intent sharpened, and people moved aside without knowing why.
“Rafael.”
Her voice would sound even to anyone else. Not to him. He could hear the catch, the nerves she tried to swallow.
Dao’s hand was still touching her. “Evening, Griffin.”
“I need to speak to Bea,” Rafael said to Jaxon, sparing him only the briefest glance. His attention was on her.
Dao’s brows ticked slightly at the tone.
Bea glanced between them. She wanted to protest, but he knew she also wanted out of the spotlight. Curious looks were already turning their way, not just from her friends.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, quiet enough only he and Dao could hear.
Dao lingered a beat longer, as if making sure, then nodded stiffly. “I’ll get us another round. Back in a minute.”
Rafael’s palm brushed Bea’s elbow, guiding her through the crowd into a quieter hall lit by gilt sconces. Only once the murmur of voices dulled behind them did he stop.
He angled them slightly toward the wall, his shoulder grazing the plaster, blocking the corridor enough that no one else would mistake this space as theirs.
He hadn’t said a word, but she read him all the same. Chin lifted, throat warm with color, she met his gaze head-on. “He’s my friend.”
“Don’t put another man between us unless you mean it.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” His gaze didn’t move from her face. “King was there before. Now you’re putting Dao there. Difference is, you don’t even like him.”
Bea’s arms folded tight across her chest. “I can have friends, Rafael.”
“Of course you can.” He slid his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. The valet stub inside bent under the pressure from his thumb. “But Dao isn’t trying to be your friend.”
She blew out a breath, frustrated.
“If you wanted a date tonight, why didn’t you ask me? You know I would’ve taken you.”
“Because you’d take it the wrong way.”
“What way?”
Her lashes swept down, then up again. “As proof.”
The word hit like a clean strike. He couldn’t even argue—because she was right. “So you came with Dao?”
“I wanted to go with a friend,” she snapped. “You’re a lot of things, Rafael. But not my friend.”
That stopped him.
Rafael’s mouth curved without humor. “I’ve never wanted to be your friend, Bea.”
“See?” Her shoulders locked tighter, knuckles white around her clutch.
From the other room came a bright peal of laughter, footsteps echoing briefly past the hall before fading again. The world pressed just close enough to remind him this conversation could break open if they weren’t careful.
She was right there. Close enough he caught the clean bite of champagne on her breath. And yet, she was still out of reach.
Almost every encounter since King had been this—impact, heat, collision. Want surged, jagged almost to the point of pain. The memory of her under him on the mat wasn’t just a reminder; it was a provocation.
Bea wanted him too. He could see it, feel it, smell it. But her limbic system filed him under threat: shallow breaths, restless hands, every nerve braced.
He exhaled. “Maybe we should start there.”
Her head snapped up, startled. “As friends?”
King had given her certainty. Dao was a kind of shelter. That was why she put them between him and her. Placeholders she could control. He wasn’t quite either of those things, not yet, not to Bea.
If he kept pressing, she’d only keep retreating, defending. She’d never step toward him. But give her what she was asking for, and she might.
“Not quite, little Bea. But something like it, for now.”
She blinked, as if trying to decide if he was serious. Her weight shifted in those heels, her clutch moving from hand to hand like she needed something to moor her. The tension in her shoulders eased when she saw he wasn’t adding any other qualifiers.
And then her mouth faltered into the beginning of a smile. That small victory hit harder than it should have. Confirmation. He’d chosen the right path forward.
He didn’t give her the chance to pull back. His hand went into his jacket, and pulled his phone out. “Give me your number.”
Her nose twitched. “Don’t you have my details on file at Havoc?”
“That’s business.” He glanced at her. “I want the one you give me.”
She typed quickly. When she handed it back, he glanced down. He saved the entry LITTLE BEA, tilting the screen so she couldn’t miss it.
She exhaled a quiet laugh. He absorbed it, let himself savor the sound.
He hit Call. Her phone buzzed in her bag. She saved his name.
“Let’s go back.”
Just before they re-entered the crush, he bent toward her ear. “You agreed. That’s binding, little Bea.”