Page 3 of My Ruthless Husband

“Sorry about that,” he says after ending the call.

“Everything okay?”

He gives a small shrug. “Just a friend. He was wondering where I disappeared to.”

“Disappeared?”

He nods toward the back of the room. “See the group over there? The one in the white shirt?”

I follow his gaze, twisting slightly in my seat to look. My eyes land on a group of men, loud and animated. And then I spot the man in white shirt with light hair. “The blond?”

“Yep. It’s his bachelor’s party and I’m the best man.”

I look back at Clément. “Shouldn’t you be with him?”

“I should,” he admits, his lips curling into a smirk, “but when I saw a beautiful girl sitting alone, I couldn’t resist offering her my company.”

“Who said I wanted company? I have it right here.” I motion to my drink.

“I promise I’m far better company than a glass of wine.”

“Is that so?”

“Oui.” He grins.

I shake my head, half amused, half exasperated. Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “By the way, I heard my name while you were on the phone. What was that about?”

“Oh, that?” He waves a hand dismissively. “I just told him who I was sitting with.”

“Right.” I narrow my gaze even further. “Pretty sure it sounded like ‘Raven is hot as hell, and if you cockblock me, I’ll tell your fiancé you wanted to go to a strip club.’”

His eyes widen in shock. “You speak French?”

“Oui,” I say, taking a slow sip of my wine, my lips curving into a sardonic smile.

Recovering quickly from his shock, he says, “I like your smile.” When he flashes me a slow, deliberate smile, heat creeps up my neck. Embarrassed, I quickly avert my gaze.

“Shy.” His tone is teasing as his lips curl into a wolfish smirk. “I don’t usually go for the shy ones, but for you, I might make an exception.”

My head snaps toward him, disbelief plastered across my face. The warm buzz of alcohol loosens my tongue, pushing my irritation to the surface. “You’re ridiculously full of yourself,” I bite out.

“Confident,” he counters with a shrug, completely unfazed.

I take a breath, forcing calm. “Look,” I say, keeping my tone firm but civil, “I’m not interested. I’m not here for a hookup or whatever it is you’re after. I just want to enjoy my drink and some peace. So, really, you’re wasting your time.”

I plan to divorce my husband—that much is certain but that’s not why I shut Clément down. It has nothing to do with me being legally tied to Damian and everything to do with the fact that I can’t bear the thought of another man touching me. My heart still belongs to him, even if he never wanted it. It still aches for him, beats for him, no matter how much I wish it didn’t. The idea of using someone else to drown out those feelings feels wrong on every level. That’s not who I am, and never will be.

“That’s a shame, I won’t lie.” He sighs dramatically but stays put, showing no sign of leaving. “But hey, maybe I can still keep you company.”

“I really don’t think—”

He raises his hands, cutting me off. “Relax, I promise. No more flirting. Just two people hanging out. It’s gotta be better than sitting here all alone, right?”

I narrow my eyes, studying him. “You seriously want to hang out with me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I just told you—”

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