I suddenly can’t breathe. “I can’t.”
His presence flusters me.
I can barely think, and I blurt out the first words that come to mind. “I’m engaged.”
His eyebrows rise, skepticism all over his face.
Shit. He probably knows I lost Max two years ago at our wedding. An engagement this fast is…insulting.
But he nods. “Very well. I’ll see you and your fiancé at eight on Friday.”
“Why would webothgo on a date with you?”
“I’m a nice guy,” he says. “I accept the…defeat. I’ll take you both somewhere exclusive. Consider it an engagement gift.”
“Thank you but?—”
“I know where you live. The car will be outside the gates at eight. Be waiting.” He winks. “With your fiancé.”
And with that, he leaves.
I can feel the eyes of the bartender on me, and I offer an unconvincing smile.
Clenching my hands, I wait for Isla to return. Clearly, this Santo thinks my fiancé is fake. And he expects me to be waiting, with an excuse about why my man isn’t there, at eight on Friday.
Or maybe he’s thinking I won’t show at all.
And I don’t want to.
But I also don’t know why he’d do this, go to the trouble of sending a car. And if I’m not waiting, is that an act of war?
I’ve got no idea.
As Isla comes back, there’s one big, burning question in my head.
What the heck am I going to do about this?
Chapter Two
ILYA
“What,you’ve turned into a weakling since I last saw you?” I rib Isaak as he lifts lower weights than usual.
Isaak sets them down as he finishes his reps and moves to the lat machine. “I’ve got a hangover.”
“Slabak,” I mutter, hiding my grin.
He snorts. “Did you just call me a weakling again?”
“If the shoe fits…” I finish legs and move on to the rowing machine.
“I’ll have you know the hangover was for a billion-dollar deal.”
“You drink and get handed billion-dollar deals?” I shake my head. “Now that’s something I could get behind.”
“The sealing of the deal, the cherry on top. Some of these rich assholes want to see what you’re like outside the boardroom and office. They like to big-note themselves. So, who am I to say no to taking some assholes out for an expensive dinner and drinks at a high-end bar full of hot, scantily clad ladies they can ogle? All in exchange for a sweet pile of money…”
That’s Isaak. The high-flying finance executive needs the outlet of our morning routine, one we’ve had for years.
