Page 47 of The Bad Wedding Date

Fraser didn’t respond. He just smiled flatly and nodded his head, creating a weird tension.

Matteo didn’t know what to make of it, and he turned his attention back to me. “Well, it’s lovely to see you, Charlotte. Can I buy you a drink later so we can catch up on the lost years?”

“I—”

“She’s fine,” Fraser interrupted.

Matteo and I looked up at him sharply, neither of us saying a word, but Fraser didn’t falter. His hands were back in his trouser pockets, his arms tense.

“I’m taking care of her,” Fraser told Matteo. “All night.”

Matteo turned back to me, his eyes widening in surprise before he dipped his head, reached for my hand and brought it up to meet his lips for a quick kiss. “Such a beauty. I hope to catch up with you later, Charlotte, with or without a drink. For now, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Matteo gave one last curious glance at Fraser before he turned and walked towards a group of three men who looked like his personal security.

“Well, that was kind of rude,” I said to Fraser when I spun back in his direction.

“What was?”

“Your attitude towards Matteo.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” His eyes followed Matteo around the room before he eventually brought his attention back to me again.

“Don’t play innocent. Your reactions just now were—”

“Fine. I don’t like the guy.”

“Why?”

Fraser shrugged. “Gut instincts.”

“You and your gut instincts.”

“Maybe if you paid more attention to yours, you wouldn’t attract the attention of men like him.”

“Men like him? What is he like, exactly?”

“A creep.”

“And what about men like you?”

His jaw set. “I’m nothing like him.”

“Why are you so angry?”

Fraser’s eyes found Matteo walking across the room, and the muscles in his jaw twitched. It was starting to freak me out a little.

“Okay, well, whatever’s got into you, let me know when you’re over it. I’m going to get another drink.” I tried to walk away from him, strung out from the day and suddenly feeling tired, but then Fraser grabbed my elbow and pulled me back to him, leaving me to stare up at the intense grey of his eyes.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

I scowled. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said don’t you think you’ve had enough tonight?”

“Who are you, my father?”

His jaw twitched again, and an anger I didn’t want to feel burned at me from the tip of my toes. There was nothing I hated more than someone blowing hot and cold on me, making me feel adored one minute and childish and worthless the next. When he offered no response, I tugged my arm out of his hold, only to sway a little on my feet.

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