Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(38)

So what’s with the smirk?

Is he flirting? No, he can’t be flirting. That’s not what he does. He’s just being nice.

“Have you had a lot of experience with beef Wellington?” I ask. Might as well partake in the conversation. It’s not like the last person I talked to was being polite.

“Not as much as I’m making it seem.” He leans closer with a smile playing on his lips. “Am I fitting in okay?”

“Uh . . . yes,” I say, smiling back because, good God, he’s actually being playful. What’s going on with him? He must be high.

“Fantastic. I wasn’t sure about attending tonight, but Candace told me I didn’t have an option.” He looks over his shoulder and says, “I borrowed this tux from my dad. Does it smell musty?”

I chuckle. He’s definitely high. I lean in closer, giving his tux a sniff. “No, it smells like your cologne.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.”

“A good thing,” I say just as a strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me in tight to an even stronger chest.

“Hey, baby,” I hear right before a pair of lips presses against my neck.

I might be irritated with the man, but oh my God, that little kiss sends a tsunami of chills up and down my legs. Damn him.

When he pulls away—and when I say away, I mean like an inch—he asks, “Can I get you another drink?” His thumb makes small circles over my waist.

So we’re just going to ignore our little conversation from a minute ago? Not going to act like you just told me to grow up? Going to assume all is right in the world?

Super.

“Sure,” I say, feeling my breath catch in my throat from his proximity. It’s easy to forget just how large he is, how his presence can eat up all the air around you. I realized that the moment I first kissed him, and I’m realizing that now as he holds me protectively in front of Yonny.

Not just protectively but . . . he’s claiming me.

He’s showing everyone in the room exactly who I belong to.

“Be right back.” He lays another kiss on my neck before taking off.

“So,” Yonny says, clearing his throat. “You seem to be happy.”

I pick up some cheese and crackers, mindlessly putting them on my plate as I try to shiver off the feel of Silas’s warm, delicious lips on my neck.

“Yes, I am,” I answer.

“I’m glad you found someone,” Yonny says. “I know I didn’t treat you the way you deserved.” He glances down at me, our eyes connecting. “You deserved so much more than what I could offer you at that time.”

“At that time?” I ask, confused. “What do you mean by that?”

He just shakes his head. “Nothing to worry about. But I’m glad you found Silas.” He glances over my shoulder at something behind me. I look as well and catch Silas leaning against the bar, his eyes glued on me. He doesn’t waver or hide the fact he’s staring. Instead, it’s almost as if his gaze grows more intense with each passing second. “He seems infatuated with you.”

I turn away as I feel this tingling sensation pour through my body. “He’s, uh . . . very protective.”

“I can see that. I’m pretty sure every person in this room knows you’re off limits.”

“That’s only because he commands the attention.”

Yonny shakes his head as he picks up a beef Wellington nugget. “No, he commands nothing from the room other than your attention.” He picks up a napkin. “I guess I’ll see you around, Ollie. Oh, and since I didn’t say it enough when we were dating, you look stunning tonight.”

My cheeks heat, and as he walks away, I find myself watching him. Silently, even though he can’t hear me, I mumble, “T-Thanks.” What was with that? You look stunning tonight? Obviously high. It’s a good thing I no longer crave his attention.

I finish filling up my plate, and just as I turn around, Silas is at my side with a drink. “Follow me,” he says, and because I feel all out of sorts, I do. I follow him to a private seating area to the left near an expansive window that grants us a view of the city. He takes a seat on an open couch and sets the drinks down on a coffee table in front of it, then helps me down as well. He sets my plate on the table and slips his hand into mine, tugging me close so he can speak quietly in my ear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers gently. “I wasn’t prepared for your story, and it embarrassed me.”

The cold, rough exterior I erected the minute we started fighting melts away, and I reply, “I’m sorry too. It wasn’t my intention to embarrass you.”

He pulls away just enough to cup my cheek and stare into my eyes. From an outsider looking in, it looks like we’re head over heels in love. But I like this. I like that this gentle man, who I’m coming to see could have an ego the size of Mike Tyson’s, has chosen to make our moment of apology look like something romantic. I certainly chose a good one for my fake boyfriend.

“I know you wouldn’t intentionally try to make me look like a donkey-loving pervert.”

That causes me to snort. I lean my head against his shoulder, and he cradles me as we both chuckle.

“If the headlines tomorrow say Silas Taters is a donkey-loving pervert, I’ll take full responsibility.” I lift away from his shoulder and catch a slight smirk on his lips.