Page 49 of A Lethal Game of Trust
She blinked at me, her little eyebrows bunching together like they did just before she’d wail as a child. Bloody hell, I was a prick. I wasn’t wrong, but I was a prick.
“What do you want to drink?” I asked softly, brushing her shoulder with my hand.
Her jaw was tight as she scowled at me. “A dry gin. Double. Top shelf. Enjoy your night on our sofa, asshole.”
“Great,” I said and took my glass to the bar where some people quickly vacated. I slid in just behind Leonie, pressing into her back as she laughed at whatever Dickhead had to say.
She briefly turned to see it was me and immediately went back to her conversation.
I popped my head around her shoulder to interrupt them. “Leo, what do you want to drink?”
She just lifted her glass to show me it was full. “I’m covered, thanks.”
“Did you see them make it?” Because I had. I’d watched that glass like a hawk in case Dickhead got any ideas about spiking it.
She glared at me, eyes wide in warning. “Dom, it’s fine.”
“I don’t play that way, mate,” Dickhead said with a warm smile. His hand was intertwined with hers on the bar. Fucker.
She squeezed his fingers. I wanted to rip them off.
He wasn’t a university student. He was lean. A swimmer, like Issy. Non-contact sport. Not good enough for Leo.
“So this is who you’ve chosen for the night to make me jealous?” I asked, loud enough for Dickhead to hear. “You’ve picked better.”
She spun around to confront me, pulling her fingers away. Good. I’d rather she slapped me than have them wrapped around his. “What is yourproblem?What iswrongwith you?”
With that, she stood, pulled down the skirt of her mini dress and walked away, hips swaying. I half expected her to go to Issy, but she rounded the corner and descended the stairs.
Dickhead glared at me. “Sounds like you might needto back off, mate.”
I chuckled. “Right. You so much as look at her again and I’ll have you at the bottom of the ocean, dismembered and indistinguishable before sunrise.”
It wasn’t an empty threat.
He seemed to take it as one.
When he looked behind him, as if to search for her, I retrieved my gun and pressed it into his thigh. “One fucking look.”
His eyes widened, looking down at the pistol. “Christ,” he muttered and then nodded. “Okay. Okay.”
I pulled away to watch him gather his shit before I followed Leonie.
The music was too loud, but as I escaped down the stairs to where the toilets were, it only became an echo.
There were three doors. The men’s toilets, the women’s and then what I assumed was for staff down at the very end in darkness. I stayed there, half in shadow, waiting.
Women came and went and I was just about to text Issy to come and retrieve her friend when Leonie walked out into the corridor. As she saw me, she closed her eyes in frustration before trying to make a getaway.
I pulled her back into the shadows with me, but not before I saw the tears across her face.
“Have you been crying?”
“No,” she ground out. “I splashed some water on my face. I needed to sober up a bit to deal with you. Or to walk back to that guy after you humiliated me.”
I crowded her into the corner of the wall. “What does dealing with me entail? Whatever it is, I know I’d prefer that to you going back to him.”
“Dealing with you is slamming my heel into your shoes.Dealing with you is slapping you across the face.”
