Page 62 of The Companion Love Trap

“Just how we dance like we’ve been doing it forever.”

Jace smirked as he led me into the next transition. “I’ll dance with you anytime you want, Ev. I wouldn’t have faked an injury at my last competition if you’d been my partner growing up.”

Chuckling, I tried to imagine Jace as a teenager. He would’ve been the type of boy I admired from afar but was too shy at that time to approach.

A second later, we both groaned. The vibration I’d felt all day went off again, sending my eyes rolling back. Only when I regained myself did I realize Jace had responded the same way.

“Trash Panda… do you have something to share with the class?” I teased.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His cheeks had turned pink, belying his denial.

“Did something happen when you two disappeared?” I asked as I smoothed my hand over his backside. I tried to feel for what I thought was there without being too handsy.

“And what if it did?” he challenged, moving us so my hands had to grab back onto him in a hold.

“Then I’d be so happy for you both. But you don’t have to tell me. I already know.”

“How? Did he blab?” he cursed.

I giggled, shaking my head as we floated across the floor, not missing a beat as we dipped and spun.

“No. Cruz is a locked vault.” I smoothed my hand at the back of his head as I assessed him. “You seem lighter; like you dropped something you’d been carrying for a long time.”

Jace eyed me, his shoulders relaxing when he realized I wasn’t making fun of him. He kissed my cheek before spinning me out and then back to him.

“It seems I needed to take my own advice, Firecracker. I’ve officially given in to the bossy man, and now he’s reminding me how much he owns my ass.”

“You’re wearing the plug, aren’t you?” I asked, smiling.

“Do I want to know how you know that?”

“He offered them both to me that night at the club, and I chose the panties. So, I had a good guess of what he’d done. You know, if we double up our efforts, we could overpower the CLB energy.”

He snorted. “CLB? Do I want to know?”

“Certified Lover Boy. Cruz is all domineering and possessive, but you never doubt his love for you. But that doesn’t mean he’s not fun to play with. You in?” I wiggled my eyebrows dramatically at him. Jace smiled before looking over my shoulder like he was scared Cruz had heard me.

“Nu-uh. No can do, Firecracker. I was already warned about trying to outmatch your brat game. So, I concede and will happily submit to Cruz when I’m with him. But it changes nothing else,” he purred, his hand gripping my waist tighter.

“I didn’t think it would,” I answered. “I’m different with all three of you, so I would never expect you to be the same with me that you are with them. Our relationship is complicated, and I think we’re only scratching the surface of what it will be like, but if there’s one thing you’ll never have to worry about from me, it’s the pressure to be something you’re not.”

Jace smiled. “I wish I could kiss you so fucking bad right now, Firecracker. You’re so perfect for the three of us. I hope you know that.”

It was my turn for my cheeks to redden as we finished the song. My heart had taken flight, my pulse skyrocketing at the devotion in his words.

“Come on. I’ve hogged you long enough. It looks like Kieran requires one of us.” Jace pulled me off the dance floor toward the high-top table Kieran and Cruz were standing near.

A few investors and their wives were gathered, smiling and drinking as they tried to one-up the other more than the last. I’d met all of them over the past few days and hadn’t been impressed. They were exactly as I’d expected Kieran to be in the beginning—elitist, snobbish, and entitled. I didn’t know who was worse, the women or the men.

The men assumed I was a hooker and made snide comments to me as they tried to make a pass. The women looked down at me, eyeing my clothes and everything I ate. They clearly had the same views as my mother, and I didn’t meet their standards.

Too bad, ladies. I hadn’t changed for my demon mother, so I wouldn’t for you either.

Apparently, it was a crime to choose a college I wanted instead of those she labeled worthy. Even after graduating—which I paid for with scholarships and the college fund my grandparents had set up—my mother still wasn’t impressed with my future prospects when I admitted I had no intention of joining an orchestra. To her, I was the ultimate failure.

My degree was useless. My friends were nameless. My weight was atrocious. And my future was hopeless.

In the eyes of my mother, the only desired goal left for me was marrying up. I’d already disappointed her by choosing not to follow through with music—the only thing she thought I had any talent in. But to top off her asshole cake, by not being ashamed of my body, I had committed the most grievous sin in her book. No “worthy” man would ever want me. The tragedy!

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