Page 1 of Forced Proximity
One
In my next life, I’m coming back with money and good looks instead of all this sparkling personality bullshit.
—Apollo’s secret thoughts
DRU
“She’s a fat, lazy, ugly bitch, and I’m not looking forward to having kids with her.”
My teeth gritted hard, and I had to grab onto the table’s edge to keep myself from launching myself backward and use my feeble fists on the sack of shit.
I couldn’t believe that I was here, listening in on this, in Washington, DC, of all places.
But I’d gotten into a fight with my sister, again, about her stupid husband-to-be, and I no longer knew what to do.
That was why I was here, listening to this conversation, in the middle of a crowded restaurant that charged three hundred dollars for a six-ounce steak that wasn’t even prime cut.
Luckily, the water was free, and the chips and hot sauce—which were absolute shit because the north didn’t have nothin’ on Texas hot sauce—were somewhat affordable.
I surreptitiously glanced over at the man that was with Eugene and found his eyes on me.
I quickly looked away, my heart in my throat at being caught looking, and cursed myself for being so obvious. If I’d just acted normal, I wouldn’t have looked so suspicious.
I looked back, determined now to make it seem like I hadn’t looked away because I was suspicious.
And again, my gaze caught the man sitting across from Eugene.
This time when our gazes caught, neither one of us looked away.
I’d never in my life seen a man so damn sexy.
He wasn’t a massive guy. More compact and streamline.
He was wearing a three-piece suit, and he wore it very well. It was apparent that he’d had it custom made to fit his body. There wasn’t a single piece that didn’t fit him perfectly.
While I was watching, he leaned forward in his seat and took off his jacket, and my breath caught.
Because what I thought was a sexy man before just turned ten times hotter when he handed the jacket to a man that seemed like he appeared out of nowhere and started to roll up his sleeves.
That’s when I caught sight of the tattoos.
He had them all down the length of one forearm, while the other remained completely bare.
My gaze snagged on the watch, and I shook my head.
Patek Philippe.
I only knew the name brand because Eugene wore one and liked to shove it down my sister’s throat that he could afford one and Daniella couldn’t.
Hell, that watch cost more than I made in a single year as a charge nurse at Dallas Memorial.
I idly wondered if the sexy man with the tattoos, salt and pepper hair, and well-manicured beard shoved his successes in other people’s face like his lunch companion did.
I shifted in my seat and allowed my gaze to snag on the man’s hands.
His hands were rough-looking, letting me know that he wasn’t just a pretty face. He knew how to put in some hard work, too.
“…What is it that I can do for you that you can’t get from anybody else,” sexy silver fox drawled. “You could go to anyone for this bill and they’d gladly join your cause.”
