Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
The moment we step foot over the threshold of the room, my eyes are everywhere.
Georgia’s hand is held firmly in mine, and she pushes out a bright smile, but when she gives me a fleeting glance, I can see it doesn’t reach her eyes.
If anything, I just made this more fake than it was an hour ago.
But I also know she’s worried about Ezra and any confrontation coming there.
She swoops a pink concoction in a martini glass off one of the passing trays and brings it to her lips, taking a large sip.
Her lips smack, and her cheeks brighten.
It’s a look on her I can’t resist, and I find myself staring at her lips, wanting to know what that drink tastes like from its direct source.
“Yums.”
I steal the glass from her hand and finish it off, much to her objection. But it’s the closest I’ll get to her lips again, and why not taste what they taste like when I know exactly how it looks to anyone watching? Especially when I give her a wink and a playful kiss to her temple .
“Get yourself another one, but I’m going to find you something to eat,” I murmur in her ear.
Her hand trails up until it’s locked in my hair. She gives it a firm rip that makes me smirk. “I don’t need you to take care of me. Nor do I want you to.”
Except I know she hasn’t eaten in hours, and now she’s drinking because she’s mad and feels betrayed and is nervous—and she’s not wrong about any of that.
“You’re my wife now, Georgia. That means it’s my job to take care of you.
Whether you like it or not.” I rub my nose along hers, our eyes locked in a fierce standoff, but her focus is quickly intercepted by a group of people vying for her attention, and I use that as my excuse to part from her, going about the duties of making her a plate of food.
But that’s not all I’m doing.
I’m waiting, and I don’t have to wait long.
Within seconds, he’s beside me, casually making a plate at the massive buffet as if he doesn’t know who I am, nor does he care.
Only he cares. He cares a lot. I can see the sweat already lining his brow despite the chill in the room, and the rim of red lining his eyes, indicating he’s already several drinks in.
I continue filling the plate, popping a piece of cheese into my mouth for show and making sure I turn in his direction as if entirely aloof. When I stand upright, his focus is all over my ring, his jaw locked, his dark eyes wild, and his pupils totally blown out.
Hmm. Interesting. That coupled with the sweat, makes me think he’s on something.
He’s tall, thin, good-looking in that rich, preppy asshole way with a too-expensive haircut and a flashy gold watch. For a man I know to be in his early thirties, the stress of losing his fiancée and her company is aging him greatly.
“Are you here with Georgia Monroe? I saw you walk in with her.”
I give him a nod.
“Ezra Earnheart.” He extends his hand for me to shake. “I’m her ex-fiancé. ”
I shake his hand, almost smiling at his lame attempt at trying to crush mine. “Eric?”
“E-z-r-a,” he repeats, enunciating the letters of his name. Douche. Who falls for that?
“Lenox Moore. I’m her husband. But you already knew that.” I wink at him, which makes his eyes bead up.
“The former boy bander,” he says tightly, taking a hasty sip of his scotch, his plate all but forgotten. “That’s right. I think I heard her mention you once. I just don’t remember it being all that favorable.” He sniffs, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
I don’t take the bait, and it irritates him to no end.
“When did you and Georgia reconnect? As far as I know, this week is the first time she’s left LA since her father’s death.”
I tilt my head. “And how would you know that?”
He grits his teeth only to blow out a scotch-soaked breath, trying to maintain his calm presence and failing terribly. “I don’t know what game she’s playing, but she’s using you in her scheme. She doesn’t love you.”
I give him a version of a pitying smile and continue to add a few things to Georgia’s plate. I drop a piece of shrimp cocktail on the white porcelain and give him an arrogant look. “It’s her favorite.”
His face pinches, and his eyes flash. “How much is she paying you? I’ll pay you?—”
“We both know you can’t.”
“How can you even?—”
“Make basic assumptions without an education and tattooing people’s skin for a living? No clue. Perhaps it’s a wild guess based on your desperation.”
“If you think you’re going to get Georgia’s money?—”
“As I told Georgia, her money is the least appealing thing about her.” I shrug nonchalantly, keeping my tone light.
He shakes his head, growing ruddier, more frazzled, a man visibly coming unglued at the seams. “This can’t be real. There’s no way.” He pans his hand across the room as if he knows exactly where she is, which I’m positive he does since I do as well.
As a man who was obsessed with the same woman, I suppose we share that commonality.
Only I never stalked her or made her feel trapped or wanted to control her while taking her for all she’s worth.
And that thought turns me mean. The desire to hurt him—to actually destroy every piece of him—compels me.
I hold up my left hand, flashing my black band at him. “It’s as real as it gets, Ethan.”
“You motherfucker. You think you know what you’re getting into.
You’re just a tattoo artist. A simple, uneducated lowlife, just like you said.
Your best friends and your sister’s death are your only claim to fame.
” He pauses here, watching to see my reaction to his mentioning Suzie, but again, I don’t take the bait, and he slams his glass down on the buffet table, rattling a dish and drawing attention to himself.
“She hasn’t gone to see you, and I know you haven’t gone to see her. It’s bullshit! All of it.”
“You might want to keep your voice down, Elliott. You are at a corporate event.”
I glance over and see Georgia talking with two other people, but her eyes are on us, worry creasing her forehead when a third person—Alfie Earnheart—joins her. He smiles warmly at her, resting a hand on her shoulder and then drawing her in for a hug she returns.
I turn back to his son. “Nice talking to you, Earl. If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure my wife eats something.” While I go meet your father and see if he’s just as big of a weasel as you are.
Ezra is a hot head. But I’m not sure how smart he is. From what I’ve read online about Alfie Earnheart, without even getting into his real stuff yet, he’s the complete opposite.
With slow, even strides, I make my way over to Georgia, who is now alone with Alfie, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, dark eyes like his son’s, and a suit that is all power.
I haven’t had a chance to send him the link yet, but I will.
And when he opens it, I’ll have a lot of fun digging through all his secrets to see if his mild-mannered exterior is fake or not.
Georgia is telling him something I can’t hear, and I watch as he squints at her, steps into her personal space, and I swoop in, wrapping my arm around her waist and moving her body so that I’m between them and he can no longer touch her.
She starts, but quickly recovers when she sees it’s me and snatches the plate from my other hand.
“Oh, Lenox. Perfect timing. I’m starving.” She turns back to him. “Alfie, this is who I was telling you about. I’d like to introduce you to my new husband, Lenox Moore. Lenox, this is Alfie Earnheart, the current CEO of Monroe Securities and my father’s closest friend.”
He reaches out and shakes my hand, though he doesn’t try to crush it the way his son did. He’s assertive and calculating, his eyes assessing, almost sizing me up, though he’s visibly unhappy about hearing I’m Georgia’s husband. “Her husband?”
I lift her left hand and kiss her knuckle just beneath her rings. “I’m a lucky man, wouldn’t you say?”
He glowers at me, realizing I’m likely taunting him despite my even tone, and he gives me a disdainful once-over. I refrain from grinning. “Did she pick you up off the street?”
“No, my tattoo parlor, actually. I see your son hasn’t told you anything about me yet. I’ve known Georgia her whole life.”
“Funny, so have I, and I can’t remember ever hearing about you as a person in her life.”
“Yes,” Georgia chimes in as she takes a bite of the shrimp. “He’s best friends with my cousins Zax and Greyson.”
His eyes round, but then he quickly dismisses me as anything of substance, putting his full weight on her. “Georgia, what on earth have you done? What could you have been thinking making a decision like that?”
“I’m very happy, Alfie.”
He shakes his head as if that’s inconsequential. “Honey, this is not the time for that sort of thing. You have a company depending on you. Your father would be so disappointed.”
My jaw tics and I take a step forward before I can stop myself, using my height and size to my advantage as I glare down at him since he’s a solid four inches shorter than me. “Do you make it a habit to be condescending and disrespectful to your company owner and chairwoman?”
Alfie is nonplussed, and I’m assuming no one has ever challenged him before.
Not even his sniveling little worm of a son.
“As she stated, I was her father’s best friend and I’ve known her for her entire life.
I’d say as both someone who cares about her and the current CEO of the company she is to inherit, I have every right to challenge her on this.
She was supposed to marry my son,” he snarls.
“That was the agreement. She was not supposed to marry some bottom feeder looking to strike it rich through an advantageous marriage.”
“An advantageous marriage? Who are you? Jane Austen?”
Georgia spits out a spray of pink alcohol straight into the air and then glares at me as she wipes at her lips and chin. “That’s twice today, funny man.”