Page 119 of One Time in Paris
Probably not a bad idea.
Whatever superpower was required to watch the woman he loved be groped by another man—acting or not—Aiden didn’t seem to possess it.
Every touch, every smile, every comment about howfucking perfectthey were together sank like gravel through his stomach.
“I’m just going to get a refill,” Aiden said, grabbing his glass from the table. “I’ll meet you out there.”
Kyle gave him a hesitant look. “If it helps, she’s talked about you nonstop. Even when she thinks she’s being subtle. Between shots while filming, or on the plane ride over here, all she did was find a way to sneak you into the conversation. It makes me wish I had someone, too. You don’t realize how lonely you are until you see everyone else around you happy.”
Aiden gave a grim nod. “Don’t get too romantic, Winnick. I don’t need any more rumors starting at this party.”
Kyle chortled, then left him at the table.
Making a beeline for the bar, Aiden held his breath as he passed Callum and Quinn. Neither of them looked his way, though he didn’t doubt they both noticed him.
A suffocated feeling closed in around him as he stood in line at the bar. Isla was busy, obviously, and she’d meant well in telling him about Callum, but this was sheer misery. Every second since then had felt fraught with the potential for error. A powder keg that could erode the relationships he valued the most even further.
“Aiden,” a man said beside him. One of Callum and Quinn’s friends who had pulled away from the group to stand in the line for the bar.
“Ah, hello. ..”
Michael? Ben?
Something biblical.
“Philip,” he said with a grin. “You’re looking duly miserable. What are you drinking tonight?”
“Bell’s,” Aiden said, groaning inwardly. The last thing he wanted was to get caught in a conversation with one of Callum and Quinn’s friends—especially when they were just a few feet away.
“Of course you are. Moved away from pints and onto the whiskey, have you? God, I think I remember the first time you drank with us all in uni. You were up from”—Philip snapped his fingers at some vague recollection that Aiden had no memory of—“I can’t remember now. Anyway. You were green around the gills the entire night.”
Aiden gave a bare nod, still trying to decide whether it was better to feign interest or to be flat-out disinterested. One would make him look even more like a prick—the other would only keep him here longer.
Philip, either too drunk to notice Aiden’s dilemma or feeling particularly chatty, kept right at it. “Of course, lots changed since then. You’re the big shot in the family now, I hear.” He clapped Aiden on the back.
Please, God. Let the line fucking move.
Only one person remained in front of him, though Philip had sidled up beside him, rather than stand behind. Aiden focused his gaze on the bartender as he strained a drink into a glass.
“Wouldn’t be Camden Enterprises if a Camden wasn’t in charge,” Aiden replied dryly, his gaze darting away.
That was a mistake. His eyes landed on Tomas and Isla, who continued wrapped in each other’s arms on the dance floor.
Still? How many bloody shots does Boyd need?
A pulse beat at his temple, slow and brutal. Laughter rippled from a nearby table. The clink of cutlery. Someone toasted Liddy and Callum. Meanwhile, he stood there, pretending not to notice Tomas’s hands on the woman he loved.
Philip followed his gaze. “Oh yeah. That’s changed too, right?” He lowered his voice. “Little Isla’s all filled out now.” The sod had the audacity to lick his lips. “Girl’s got a reputation, too. I’d pay good money to see what she’s like on her knees. Bet she’s wild with that mouth. Wouldn’t mind getting a turn.”
“What?” Aiden asked sharply, his voice booming louder than he’d intended. Rage curled through him, and he turned, towering over the sniveling moron as he grabbed him by the collar. But he couldn’t control the fury. “What thefuck?”
Philip’s eyes widened. “I-I . . . meant no harm. Isla?—”
“Get her name out of your fucking mouth,” Aiden growled, leaning closer. His grip tightened. “Don’t youeverthink of talking about her that way again, you pathetic little fuck.”
Quinn was at Aiden’s side. He gripped Aiden by the elbow. “Whoa, there, what the hell is going on?”
Philip’s face was a deep shade of crimson. “S-sorry,” he sputtered.
