Page 7 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession
She shrugs. “It’s just you, Bonnie. I keep telling you that you have a certain… elegance to you. Class. It draws people in.”
I try not to snort. A memory of me back in Clonmel, Ireland, clad in torn, dirty clothes and picking pockets, comes to me. I violently shove it back and change the subject.
“Anyway, help a girl out. It’s raining sexy men here, so I’d like to meet someone. Now, I’ve just ruled out Maxwell—“
“The doctor?”
“Yep, he’s out. Ryan, too. But everyone else is fair game. You know most people here. So, tell me, who would you suggest?”
She looks around, rubbing her palms excitedly. “Oh, there’s so many to choose from. Let’s see, what was your type again? Coloring, build, personality?”
“Muscles, a clever tongue, and a working cock would be a good place to start.”
“Well, that simplifies things then! Shall we find out how much they’re charging?” Sabrina and I are still giggling when Jordan and Ethan reach us.
From Jordan’s grin and the thunderous look on Ethan’s face, I know they overheard our conversation.
Geez, lighten up, man. Your virtue is safe.
Ethan folds his tall frame into the chair opposite from me and then collects a drink from a passing waiter.
“Can I steal this gorgeous woman beside you, Bonnie?” Jordan asks. He’d been whispering to Sabrina prior to him asking me the question, and he’s now helping her out of her seat.
“By all means!”It’s not even been fifteen minutes, and already Jordan wants his wife back. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Sabrina goes with her husband, and we watch as he spins her on the dance floor as she giggles like a little girl.
I feel Ethan’s eyes on me. The silence grows heavy with what I know he wants to say, so I mentally steel myself for another round of verbal sparring.
No need to get a hernia restraining yourself on my account. I sure as hell didn’t hold back my thoughts yesterday when we were introduced.
“So, Harvard,” I say cooly. “I heard you lost a game of poker.”
He shrugs. “I suppose you can’t be great at everything, can you?”
Arrogant, aren’t we?Why does every word out of his mouth irritate me so much?
“Well, I have to tell you, poker isn’t the only thing you’re bad at. You certainly weren’t the man for the job tonight. I’ve seen elephants with better finesse.”
I hate the way his eyes bore into me. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not that much into showmanship, you see.”
How dare he say that to me after the silly speech he gave? “And I am? You thinkIput on a show?”
He glances pointedly at my black curls with its dark purple highlights and my dress, which has no neckline to speak of, as it opens down to my amethyst belly button ring. I feel naked under his perusal.
And inexplicably achy.
His face swings back up to mine, shuttered and unreadable.
“Whatever gets you through the night, Bonnie.”
What the hell does that comment even mean?“Don’t presume to know or judge me.”
“Why would I judge you Bonnie?” His tone softens.
“Oh come on! You’ve been doing that since yesterday. Especially this morning. Your expression said it all: the twist in your mouth, the stiffness in your spine. Oh, wait, that mighthave more to do with the giant baseball bat shoved up your ass, actually.”
Still no reaction. “And you got all of that from the two seconds I was in that hallway?”