Page 45 of The Painter and His Poet

“You know it isn’t,” I reply, my fingers digging into the bare skin of her back. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Either way, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters–!”

“Can I cut in?”

We both still as Benedict appears to my left.

“Ben?” I question, cursing him internally for interrupting us.

He gives me a look, and I know he thinks I need a reasonable excuse to escape because of the music, but this time he’s got itso fucking wrong. I don’t want to escape this wedding unless it’swithHarlow.

“Harlow and I haven’t really had the chance to talk given your father stuck me at a table with a bunch of strangers,” he explains as Harlow gives him a polite smile.

“Now’s not the time,” I bite out.

“Pretty sure that now isexactlythe right time,” Ben argues, looking at me pointedly before turning his attention back to Harlow. “I figured we should get to know each other because I know this arsehole hasn’t told you I’m his best friend.”

“Okay, um… Sure,” Harlow replies, attempting to step back, but my palm just presses against her back firmer, pinning her to me. I do not want to let her go, despite the fucking colour, the loud music, and the overstimulation from just about everything.

Ben’s gaze drops to my hand, then lifts back up to my face with an arched brow before looking at Harlow’s flaming red cheeks. “Thought as much,” he says.

“Later,” I warn him before he could say anything more.

“This isn’t what you think… We’re not…” Harlow mumbles, understanding Ben’s insinuations as I scowl at my best friend.

“Not my business,” Ben shrugs amiably. “But Iwouldappreciate a favour.”

“A favour?” I ask, releasing my grip on Harlow a little, if only to let her breathe more freely.

“I may or may not have said something inappropriate to Elodie’s husband just now,” he explains, smirking ruefully, “And whilst I’m pretty sure he’s not going to make a scene, I think he’s less likely to try and punch my lights out if I’m dancing with Robert’s step-daughter.”

“So you want to use me as a human shield, is that it?” Harlow asks with a quirk of her lips, bringing some much needed levity to the moment.

“Partly,” Ben admits, then lowers his voice, “But if I’m being perfectly honest, this thing you got going on,” he continues, wagging his finger between us, “Is starting to become noticeable. You’re lucky that most of the people here are already drunk or are too busy stuffing their faces and getting drunk to wonder why you two are giving each other the stink-eye.”

“The stink-eye would imply we hate each other,” I argue.

“Not when you look like you want to rip each other’s clothes off as well,” he adds, humour sparkling in his eyes.

“Oh,” Harlow murmurs, throwing a look to her mother and my father, who are currently too busy looking at each other to be interested in what's going on between us. Doesn’t stop her from worrying her lip with her teeth though.

“Besides, you my friend, look like you could use some fresh air, yes?” Ben adds, giving my shoulder a firm squeeze.

In other words,get the fuck out of here before you screw shit up.

He’s not wrong. I do need air, but I also don’t want to let go of Harlow, and I can’t help but pull her closer once again, angling my body between them as my possessiveness takes over.

“Sterling,” Ben persists, his voice laced with concern.

“Fine,” I grind out, reluctantly releasing Harlow, whilst he takes her in his arms and I try not to punch him. “I shouldn’t need to tell you to be–”

“Respectful?” Ben throws back with a laugh. “I’m not Dalton, and whilst Harlow is stunning, you and I both know there’s only one woman for me.”

“Let me guess, Councillor Hoxton’s wife, Elodie?” Harlow says following Ben’s gaze across the room.

“Very astute, Ms Richards,” he responds. “Now let’s dance.”

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