Page 31 of The Grand Ruin: Lance & Scarlet-Part One

When he looks down at me, his face hard and tense, I frown.

“Down there,” he repeats.

Our gazes are tied, but I choose to step back.

I use the bathroom and top up my lips in the mirror, taking a little longer than Lance will likely appreciate.

He’s barely said a word throughout dinner, and I found myself constantly watching him as the conversation got lost to business. He didn’t look at me once, and he didn’t smile. Not at anyone. He came into the boutique mad and frustrated today, but he still had something about him. A genuine amusement lurking below all thatman. It made me feel like I could go right back at him. Toe to toe. But not right now. Right now, he’s caught up in something else, pissed off at the world.

I can’t help but care.

When I leave the restroom, I find him leaning against the wall on his phone. His brow is pulled low, and his eyes are closed as he listens.

“Lance,” I say, and he lifts his head up, opening his eyes to look at me. “I want to dance.”

He drops the phone from his ear, not hanging up. “Then go dance.”

“I need someone.” I give him a coy smile. “Will you be my guy tonight? My wingman?”

“Wingman?” He lifts the phone again. “I’ll call you back.” Once the phone is nestled in his trouser pocket, he steps toward me, the air getting thinner the closer he gets. “You’re on the prowl tonight? Does Mason know that?”

“On the prowl?” I question with a snigger. “No. Definitely not on the prowl. There isn’t a man in this room who interests me enough to engage.”

“Then why do you need a wingman?”

“Okay, fine. Lance, will you come dance with me so that I don’t look lame dancing on my own?”

“Mason will dance with you.”

“I want you.”To smile. To tell me I’m being a raving bitch or look at me as if you want to eat me alive like you did in the changing room today.

“Don’t say that.” His jaw flexes as his nostrils flare.

“What?”

“You’re far from innocent, Lowell, so don’t try fucking with me. I heard that filthy mouth at work this afternoon.”

“You don’t want to dance with me?”

His face is like stone, a waging war he’s fighting with himself.

“I’ll dance with you, darling.” My neck twists, angling up to see the guy at my back.

Cooper Hemmings.

“Uh—”

“Go for it,” Lance says, cutting me off, and I whip around to face him. “I’ve got to get out of here anyway.”

He throws me a look full of pity, and I get a sad sinking feeling in my gut. A stupid, childish disappointment.

“Shall we?” Cooper asks, holding out his hand.

Lance doesn’t break our trance, and I don’t want to either. It’s as if he’s challenging me, but I don’t understand what he wants.

“I’ll see you, then,” I tell him, leaning in and pretending to kiss his cheek. Instead, I whisper in his ear. “Your anger’s wasted,” I say quickly. “Whoever hurt you—made you feel this way tonight, can they feel it right now? Are they here in this room, or are they just in here?” I tap his temple. “Don’t lose today to pissed-off yesterdays.”

His eyes narrow, but I’m already standing back beside Cooper. I place my arm in his and head toward the dance floor, walking around the outside of the crowd to avoid my brother.

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