“Well, I wouldn’t have invited her if I didn’t know her. It’s all good though. We weren’t wasting anymore time in this place anyway.”
“Sir, I truly didn’t mean to offend,” he continues. It really irks me that his tune has changed since Zane walked up.
“Yeah. You did. I knew when I walked in you were a douche. No big deal, but I can promise that I won’t be coming back here. If the staff can treat someone as beautiful as Tori with such disrespect, then it damn fucking sure isn’t getting my business.”
Jax walks up about the time the maître d’ tries to sputter something else out with a look of confusion and curiosity. He is flanked on either side by a woman in a dress that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe and another man in an expensive suit. He eyes Zane with a look of concern.
I turn my gaze to Zane to look at him. Really look at him. I realize that the lazy, crooked grin may be there, but it is not the laid-back cocky grin I’m accustomed to seeing on his too beautiful face. There is a fury flashing in those dark eyes of his. His fists are clenched tightly at his side and his jaw is clenched despite the grin on his face. He looks menacing and a little scary which unnerves me because for the second time I can see Zane is more dangerous than any of the men I have fought in the ring. Far more dangerous than his outward persona lets on.
“What’s going on here?” Jax asks looks from the maître d’ back to Zane then me.
“Thismotherfuckertook a look at Tori with all of her tattoos and decided she wasn’t good enough to come into this fine establishment,” Zane tells him even though he knows that’s not quite all of it. It’s like he said what he knew would get under Jax’s skin the fastest considering the man is covered in tattoos and Zoey has quite a few herself.
“Is that right?” Jax crosses his arms and leans back on his heels.
“Mr. McCabe, I apologize. I didn’t think.”
Jax’s hazel eyes run up and down the dowdy man with intensity that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Twice now, I’ve seen him away from Zoey, and the difference her presence makes is definitely noticeable. Of course, last time he was trying to help his girl.
“I don’t give a fuck what you did or didn’t think, do, or say,” he says with a whole hell of a lot of intimidation for the few little words. “We didn’t come here because we wanted to anyway. We only came because people think the best way to kiss our asses is with bullshit like this place.”
He turns without another word walking out the door. The man and woman who were following him continue to do so but with red faces looking at the floor. I wonder if they are embarrassed at the situation or the way Jax and Zane just say whatever the hell they feel. Or maybe because they're the ass kissers who thought a place like this was the best way to schmooze them.
Zane walks to the man, leaning down to whisper something in his ear. The man turns three shades of green as Zane pulls away. He slings his arm over my shoulder and leads me back out onto the street.
Once we’re standing outside the place, he turns to me. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“Why are you sorry?” I ask shrugging my shoulders. “That’s the nature of things sometimes. Some people just think money equals class.”
He shakes his head with a grin, but I can still see his anger just below the surface. “Let’s go somewhere that serves real food.”
“Good seeing you, Tori,” Jax says behind me. He nods toward Zane. “Heading back to the room to call Zoey.”
Zane nods in return but doesn’t say anything making Jax narrow his hazel eyes at him. “Don’t do anything stupid, Zee.”
A dark chuckle escapes his throat as he shakes his blond head. “I’ll try.”
He turns us in the opposite direction Jax is facing as Jax grumbles under his breath.
“What did he mean by that?” I ask looking up at him.
His dark eyes flash with anger again. He shakes his head with a few quick blinks, and it’s gone. All the intensity and fury has left his expression and his body. It kind of makes my head spin. I’ve never seen anyone turn it on and off so quickly. I’m not sure if that makes him very controlled or a loose cannon.
“Don’t worry about it, darlin’. That’s just Jay watching out for me.”
We continue walking down the sidewalk of Broadway for a few more minutes passing the Red Cube and a few other places. We walk in absolute silence side by side but not touching. I get the feeling he may have pushed everything down, but he’s still struggling with his anger.
“I really hate assholes,” he finally says. “Jax and Rory’s parents worked so much when they were growing up, they missed a lot of things in their kids’ lives. My dad, well he was pretty successful. My mom didn’t have to work, and we lived in a pretty nice house. Never once did my parents judge theirs for what they didn’t have. In fact, they admired the McCabe’s determination to take care of their kids the best they could. People like that maître d’ back there just piss me the fuck off. He probably makes less than fifty grand a year but turns his nose up at you. I think the dress is great by the way.”
He rambled beautifully. Why was everything about him so goddamn inviting? It made it hard to remember why I sent him on his way last time.
Oh right. My pride.
The stuff about not doing relationships or not seeing the point in starting anything was true. It was one hundred percent true. But the real reason for the avoidance and rejection was that he hurt my pride that morning in Las Vegas.
We walked a few more blocks when he finally stopped the limo that was following us. I was so damn grateful. I wasn’t wearing the type of shoes you stroll through New York with. They were black Jessica Simpson pumps. They were cute as hell, but they were not comfortable. I’ve never owned a pair of her shoes that were.
He opens the door of the cab allowing me to climb in and slide over. I’m careful the hem of my dress doesn’t rise up too high. The Adrianna Papell fringe dress – okay so it was more than seventy-five dollars - come about four inches above knee and even farther when I sat. He slides in beside me and gives the driver the address.
