Page 48 of Once Upon A Sale

“You’re in danger,”he says. The guy who literally has a contract on my head tellsmeI’m in danger.

Spoiler alert, Jarrett. You’re the danger in this scenario.

I’m so pissed off at his attempt to sabotage my gala that I’m shaking with a pent up need to both stab him and, yes, fuck him. Apparently, my head and body aren’t on the same page tonight. To be fair, no one has the right to look that hot in a tux while throwing out dirty thoughts with that British accent in full effect. It’s unfair on too many levels. I may pride myself on my strength and independence, but dammit, I’m still a hot blooded woman.

My only saving grace is the fact that appearances have been so ingrained into me that I’m capable of stewing in my own rage, even as I present a well put together façade for the donors wanting my attention.

“You’ve done such an amazing job here tonight, Ophelia. Your parents would have been so proud.”

I smile at Mrs. Gruff, whose son, born and raised in Florida, has made billions with his growing hedge fund business since his late twenties. Not that he came from poverty, obviously.

Also, my parents wouldn’t have given two shits about this charity because my father was a narcissistic asshole and my mother was too broken to acknowledge anything other than her pain. But I don’t tell this woman my life story. I nod, tilt my head to the side, and give her my best bashful smile.

“Thank you, Mrs. Gruff, that means the world to me.” It doesn’t, but that’s what she wants to hear. She doesn't want to know that what truly means everything to me is the money I’m raising to protect the very animals we keep putting in danger with our greed. Or the money we raise to save girls from men who want to own them like they own overpriced cars or yachts.

“I’m sure it does, dear.” Patting me on the hand, the eighty-something-year-old woman smiles and walks away with her daughter-in-law.

Beside me, Dexter places his hand at the small of my back, and for a brief second, I wonder if it’s Jarrett coming back for me. But the usual spark that runs up my spine whenever he touches me isn’t there.

Not to mention that I don’t want him to touch me, right?

My brain goes right back to his words, ruminating about this supposed danger or where Dexter’s money is coming from. Of course I care, but also, not really. Worst case scenario, I’m taking money from The Firm to finance the saving of women’s lives or the well-being of protected animals.

Not that Dexter is with The Firm, I would know that because we did extensive research on him so Jarrett can stuff it.

“Are you ready to go, beautiful?” Looking around, I notice our donors have gone and the only people left are the staff, me, and Dexter, who hasn’t left my side all night, and his friend Rick, who’s been sitting at the table with his phone this whole time.

I don’t need to see him to know Jarrett is still here because I can feel him just like I’ve felt him this past week everywhere I went. In fact, I shouldn’t have been surprised that he was here tonight. I just wasn’t expecting him to actually make his presence known.

“Yes, thank you.” I smile at Dexter, ready to say goodnight to him too, and call my driver.

“My driver can take you home.” There are a million reasons I should let Dexter woo me and only one that I shouldn’t.

“Oh, no. Thank you. I have my driver already here, waiting for me. Would you like me to take you back?” For some reason—yes, Jarrett is that reason—I don’t want Dexter to know or see where I live. I’m sure a good Google search would give him the information easily enough, but still, taking him is like an invitation that I’m not ready to extend.

“If you don’t mind. I’d love to spend another few minutes with you. However, I promised Rick he could stay with me tonight. Would you mind if he rode with us?” It’s pure coincidence that my gaze lands on Jarrett just as Dexter is asking that question. The chance Jarrett can hear our conversation is slim, yet I’m feeling a strange sense of guilt as I pat Dexter on the arm and answer.

“No, not at all.” Do I really want to have some stranger in my car? No, not really. But Dexter has been nothing but kind and courteous. Not once has he made me uncomfortable or given off creeper vibes. Yet, as we walk side by side, his hand on the small of my back, I can’t help but look over my shoulder and shiver at the look of pure rage and agony flashing across Jarrett’s face.

By the time we reach my car, Rick is there with us. Contrary to Dexter, this guy is the epitome of red flags. His eyes wander, the corner of his lip is permanently stuck in a snarl, and his overall appearance screams danger.

It’s almost shocking that these two men are friends. Close enough that Rick is staying with Dexter.

As soon as I slide into my car, I regret offering to drive them home. When the doors close and the engine roars to life, I’m two seconds away from telling Josh, my driver, to turn it off and asking these men to go home by their own means.

But I don’t. Instead, I smile at Dexter as he scooches close to me, letting Rick take the bench across from us.

“Thank you for tonight, Ophelia.” Dexter takes my hand and brings it to his lips just as the car takes off.

Rick’s unwavering gaze is penetrating in all the wrong ways and I can’t help but keep my eyes on him. It’s like having a spider in your home and wanting to watch it the whole time because the idea of it disappearing is even scarier.

Rick is that spider, and my instincts tell me I need to stomp on him.

“My pleasure, thank you for being my date.” Rick’s lip curls even more when I answer, making my hackles stand right up.

“You and Jarrett? What is that?” I’m taken aback by Rick’s question, especially considering it’s the first time he’s ever spoken to me.

“Excuse me?” My back is straight and my armor is fully on now. This guy is a walking red flag.

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