Chapter 19 Rina
Rina
I should’ve suspected Evelyn was up to something.
The moment Lucas approached our table, I realized exactly what this was.
A setup.
My gaze cuts to Evelyn as her nephew flips open the menu and scans it with quiet confidence. My boss sips her wine, the picture of grace and innocence, as if she hasn’t orchestrated the entire evening.
As much as I’d love to call her out, I won’t do that in front of Lucus. Maybe this is the push I needed. Maybe now Oliver will accept the truth and move on.
The thought settles deep within, equal parts sorrow and relief, and I can’t decide which cuts deeper.
I refocus my attention on the menu. The salmon special, the roasted beets, the overpriced side of greens. The dishes blur as my skin prickles with awareness.
He’s still watching me.
Even from across the crowded dining room, I feel his attention like a live wire threaded beneath my skin. The man is relentless, and it’s impossible to pretend I’m not aware of him on the most basic level.
Just as the waiter appears with an iPad, ready to take our orders, Hugh slides into the only vacant seat at our table. The man moves with the casual confidence of someone used to owning any room he steps into. I don’t miss the intimate way his hand brushes the back of Evelyn’s chair.
“I hope there’s room for one more,” he says lightly, gaze cutting to Evelyn with quiet intent, as if daring her to say otherwise.
Her spine goes rigid, pleasant smile snapping tight. “Actually, I’m afraid there isn’t.”
“Really?” His tone is all polite challenge. “Is this seat already taken?”
“Yes.”
He picks up a menu, calm as can be. “Funny. You didn’t mention dining out this evening.”
“I wasn’t under the impression I needed your permission,” she replies, tone clipped and smooth as glass.
“Perhaps I’d already made arrangements for us,” he volleys back.
The atmosphere shifts, growing charged and uncomfortable. Even Lucas seems to sense it, pretending to study the wine list while the waiter stares at his screen like it’s possible to disappear inside it.
Evelyn’s jaw tightens as Hugh leans closer. “Tell me, do you practice that frosty tone in the mirror, or does it come naturally?”
Her lashes lower. “If you find me so cold, perhaps you should move to a warmer seat.”
He chuckles. “And miss watching you pretend you don’t enjoy this? I don’t think so.”
Evelyn exhales, the sound full of long-suffering patience. “It’s strange how you mistake irritation for enjoyment.”
“Do I?” he counters, his grin lazy yet lethal. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re hanging on every word.”
She tips her chin in regal dismissal. “Please. I’ve heard better lines from second-rate politicians.”
“Ah, but none of them ever managed to make you blush.”
A faint flush creeps up her throat before she looks away. “Keep reaching, Hugh. One day, you just might say something that interests me.”
He laughs. “Sweetheart, I’ve always been interesting. You’re just the last one willing to admit it.”
Another sigh escapes her, but this time it sounds more like surrender than annoyance.
I lean back in my seat, half amused and half intrigued. This isn’t just banter. It’s a battle. A tug-of-war where neither of them wants to let go first. It makes me wonder what’s really going on between them.
Although, their back and forth isn’t enough to keep my mind off the man brooding on the other side of the restaurant.
No matter how hard I try to force my attention elsewhere, my gaze continually drifts back to him.
From the way he’s staring, it’s obvious he’s tuned Gabby out completely.
His shoulders are squared, and elbows are braced on the table like he’s locked in for the long haul.
His focus doesn’t budge from me.
Not even for a second.
It’s the same look he gave me at the press conference, like I’m the only person who exists.
Heat spreads through my chest until it becomes difficult to breathe. My skin prickles under the heavy weight of his stare. Beneath the pull and dizzy rush of being watched with that kind of intensity, another feeling simmers.
Jealousy.
I’m envious of a woman out on a date with a man I keep swearing I don’t give a damn about. I’m jealous over a situation I promised myself I’d never get caught in.
This is exactly why I never let things get too deep.
Why I keep it casual.
Temporary.
It’s the reason I never hand over power that could destroy me.
The moment you lower your guard and let someone matter, jealousy and hurt slip right in through the cracks.
Love doesn’t just break you.
It teaches you not to trust anyone with the fragile pieces of your heart.
And yet here I am, letting a hockey player worm his way under my skin. The very thing I swore I’d never do.
Pull it together, Rina.
Just get through this evening.
Tomorrow will be easier.
I turn my attention back to Lucas.
He’s nice.
Polished.
Safe.
He’s the kind of man you could build a quiet life with. He listens, doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t smirk like he’s already three steps ahead. He’s everything I should want and absolutely none of what I crave.
He doesn’t set off fireworks under my skin or scatter my thoughts.
He doesn’t make me feel.
Not the way a certain someone else does.
“Is something wrong, darling?” Evelyn’s tone cuts through my silent spiral, silk wrapped around steel. Her gaze zeros in on me, much too knowing.
“Of course not.” The brightness I force into my voice feels hollow as it scrapes my throat raw.
I shove back my chair and rise to my feet. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
Not once do I glance in Oliver’s direction. If I do, I’ll never make it out of the room. I walk quickly, pushing through the restroom door.
Cool air greets me, carrying the faint scent of lavender and lemon polish. The hum of conversation fades behind the door as I grip the porcelain sink and stare at my reflection.
My lipstick is perfect.
My expression is not.
“Get a hold of yourself, Rina,” I whisper. “You’re stronger than this. You don’t need him.”
The pep talk sounds empty.
A lie I’ve rehearsed too many times.
Another hour. Ninety minutes at most. Then I can go home, pour a drink, and pretend tonight never happened.
Once I’m back under control, I square my shoulders, inhale deeply, and push through the door.
Only to stop short when I find Oliver waiting in the hallway.
He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, suit jacket open, the top button of his shirt unfastened.
The low light catches his sharp jaw as his gaze pins me in place.
Before I can gather my thoughts, he moves. One long stride, then another, and he’s in front of me. His hands wrap gently around my arms, firm but careful, as he guides me backward through the door.
He clicks the lock behind us.
“What are you doing?” I snap, voice shaking. It’s not fear that has me trembling but the charge that seems to spark whenever we’re close.
He doesn’t move or even blink.
A shiver slides through me.
“Oliver.” I edge back until the wall is cool against my spine. His nearness fills the space with a mix of heat and barely restrained fury.
Every rational thought scatters like dust in the wind.
I should be afraid.
But fear never comes into it. Just the molten, familiar pull that starts low and deep in my core before spreading through me like wildfire.
“It’s over,” I manage. “We’re both out with other people. Whatever we had is done.”
His mouth curves, but not with amusement.
It’s possession.
“Neither of us are on dates.” He steps closer, until there’s barely space between us. “And we’re not over, baby.”
My body goes still as the air hangs heavy, thick with truths I can’t bear to admit.
To him… or myself.
His head dips, mouth hovering over mine. “As far as I’m concerned, we’ve barely scratched the surface.”
His fingers trace the line of my jaw. Even though the touch is light as a whisper, it shoots straight through me, sparking along every frayed nerve. His thumb skims the edge of my lip, coaxing it open until I exhale without meaning to.
As much as I know I should stop him—at the very least, push him away—I don’t.
Because every inch of me is tired of pretending I don’t want this.
That I don’t want him.
When his mouth collides with mine, the impact destroys what’s left of my resolve. Heat, hunger, and years of denial detonate in a single kiss. His hand slides into my hair, angling me closer, while mine fists his shirt, pulling him in until there’s nothing left between us.
It’s reckless.
Dangerous.
Everything I promised myself I’d never want again.
That knowledge only makes me kiss him with a desperation I can’t hide.
When we finally splinter apart, my chest rises and falls in rapid succession. His forehead rests against mine, both of us unsteady.
That’s when I realize he’s right.
This isn’t over.
It’s just the beginning.