“I got us a table at Notte Perfetta.” He winks at me like he booked us a table at Buckingham Palace.
Notte Perfetta is a prestigious restaurant, so I’ll give him that. But it’s also pricey as hell. Every entrée is over a hundred dollars, easy. I do a lot of business meals there with investors and guests.
And I don’t know where little Trent gets that money. He’d better not expect me to pay. Yeah, yeah, it should be equal. I would pay for Callum in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t give two shits about Trent. Me going to dinner with him is a gift in itself. The publicity that will come from this alone will blow his socials up with girls who want him just because they think I had him.
So, yeah, Trent can pay.
I can feel Callum’s eyes scalding my back as we walk out the door. Squeezing Trent’s hand, I resist every urge to run to Callum. .
“So, my car or yours?” he asks, fumbling with his keys in his hand.
Control is my thing. “Mine.”
Keanu and Max tail me as we walk to my Lamborghini Huracán. His hand stays in mine as I take my keys from Max and unlock the Lambo.
Trent’s jaw drops open. “No fucking way this is your car!”
His hand flies out of mine as he caresses my car, which makes me almost equally as uncomfortable as when he was staring at my boobs. But it is as satisfying as ever to watch this boy fangirl.
My voice is sweet as sugar. “Sure is.” The sugar burns. “Get in.”
Trent follows orders and slides into my neon-green baby, Carl. Don’t ask me why I named him Carl. I saw him and thought he looked like a Carl—that simple.
Keanu approaches me. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you two?”
I nod, knowing damn well for the first time tonight, Trent’s attention won’t be on me.
“I can handle this. Thank you,” I reassure him.
He nods. “We’ll be right behind you.”
I offer him a genuine smile and slide into the driver’s seat. I turn the key in the ignition, revving Carl to life.
Trent’s jaw hasn’t closed one bit.
I put Carl into drive and speed off for Notte Perfetta. He doesn’t question that I know the route by heart.
The drive there takes all of ten excruciating minutes of nonstop begging from Trent to take Carl for a drive.
And I tell him every single time, “Over my dead body.”
Max and Keanu are right behind Carl as we pull into the packed parking lot. We manage to find two spots side by side, and I practically drag Trent out of the car.
Flashes start erupting on Trent’s face, and I realize tonight is going to be more of a hassle than ever. Because I know standing behind me is not one paparazzo; it’s dozens. The flashes are nonstop.
I spin to face them, a smile plastered on my face, my hand in Trent’s.
I shouldn’t be surprised at all that Trent loves the spotlight, that he wants to sit and talk to them. But my boys make sure nothing is said as they push us along the walkway to the restaurant.
When we get into the quiet behind the doors, I finally breathe.
Trent’s ego is bursting. “Thisis your life every day? This is all I have ever wanted. You’re so lucky. Can you get any more perfect?”
Ha!Luckyis not the word for it.
The maître d’ greets us. “Miss Chambers. Good to see you, as always. Right this way.”
His blatant ignoring of Trent makes me giggle as we follow him to our table. Max and Keanu get seated at a table near us.
