Page 49 of Dirty Play

She’s scanning the room, probably looking for someone important. But when her eyes land on me, they widen for the briefest second before she schools her expression.

Still, I catch it—that flicker of awareness.

I smirk, watching as she straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin, trying to pretend she’s not affected. But she’s flustered. I can see it in how she fiddles with the clutch in her hand and sways slightly in those high heels.

She’s nervous.

Good.

I let her look away first, savoring the way her cheeks flush under my gaze. A young man walks up to her with a smile and an outstretched hand, and she returns it. Her smile is polite but detached as she nods her head at something the man’s saying. Judging by the bigPRESSpass he’s wearing, he’s not here to donate money.

I head straight for her, weaving through the crowd.

When I reach her, she’s trying to focus on the poor reporter, nodding along to whatever boring question he’s asking. I step up beside her, cutting in without hesitation.

“Ms. Moody.” My voice comes out low, rough, and entirely too satisfied.

She stiffens, her eyes darting to mine.

“Mr. DiMarco,” she says, her tone clipped.

The reporter glances between us, sensing the tension. “Uh, I should—”

“Go,” I say, not even looking at him. He practically scrambles away.

“Do you always have to scare people off?” Livia glares at me, but there’s no real heat in it.

“Only when they’re wasting your time.”

“I was working,” she huffs before sipping her champagne.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Her lips part, and for a second, she looks like she’s going to deny it. Then she closes her mouth, tilting her head instead. “What do you want, Rowan?”

“Do you know how rude it is to hang up on people?” I lean in just enough to make her breath hitch. “Especially right after they’ve made you come.”

“Rowan!” Her cheeks darken, and she takes a step back, bumping into the table behind her.

“Did you pick that dress to drive me out of my mind?” I ask, my voice dropping.

Her jaw drops, and for a moment, I think she’s going to snap at me. But instead, she presses her lips together, clearly fighting a smile.

“You’re already there,” she finally says, that defiant glint returning to her eyes.

“You’re not falling behind either.” My lips curl into a small smile.

“I don’t have time for this tonight.” She shakes her head, exhaling sharply.

I block her path before she can walk away.

Her eyes narrow, but there’s no mistaking the way her pupils dilate. The announcer’s voice comes through the speaker, stating that the charity auction is about to begin, urging us all to find our tables and take a seat.

I pluck the champagne flute from her fingers and take a sip before handing it back to her.

“I’ll see you around,” I murmur before stepping aside to let her walk through.

The auction’s already on its last leg as I sit at one of the tables reserved for the Panthers. The guys are all bored out of their minds. Some are already engaged in hushed conversations while Langley is making paper roses next to me.

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