Page 12 of Jealous God
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“For someonewho doesn’t like her, you sure seem to be eye fucking her tonight.” Dion flopped down next to me, dropping the closed bottle of water onto the table next to us.
My eyebrows disappeared into my hairline. Dion Granger drinking water? Where was the beer, the line of shots and the endless women?
“You’re not drinking?” I answered his question with one of my own. Or maybe his wasn’t a question at all. Maybe it was more a statement of fact. I hadn’t been able to take my eyes from Elodie all night, not since she had got in the not-so-subtle dig that Erik was more her type than I would ever be. And it had been a dig. She may as well have told me to fuck off and be done with it.
It was kind of cute that she thought I was interested in her, anyway.
Except I sort of was interested, more so than I wanted to admit. And watching her dancing, her body undulating seductively for hours, just went to prove that fact.
“Not tonight.”
“Because Elodie says you can’t?” My voice was bitter, and I didn’t know why. Elodie was there to do a job and get Dion back on the straight and narrow. So I had no idea why him not drinking was making me so mad. She was obviously good at her job. I should be happy, and yet watching her dancing around with Tate and Louis, her lithe body trapped between both of theirs, was making me twitchy and irritable. And I was taking it out on Dion. Partly because he was there but mostly because Elodie being there seemed to be changing everything, especially the dynamics I was used to. Of course, I wanted Dion to get help. I wanted him better and back to the man I loved like a brother, but I also wanted my wingman. More so tonight than any other, because Elodie was doing a number on my head.
“No, because she’s made me realise that I don’t have to, that I have a choice.” I could feel his eyes on me. “Like you have a choice right now.”
“Yeah, well, I’m choosing to drink.” I downed the tequila in my glass to prove my point. “Sorry.” Too late, I realised how much of a knob I was being. Here he was trying to get sober, and I was necking shots like they were water. Dion shook his head, waving away my apology.
“Not talking about the drinking, Jax. I’m saying you have a choice when it comes to her.” His chin jutted towards the dance floor below us where Elodie was now dancing with someone else. Someone I didn’t know. Some punk in a suit.
Some punk who was exactly her type, supposedly.
“You could go down and ask her to dance. It’s pretty clear you want to.”
Did I want to dance with her? I wanted to do something with her, that much was clear, but dance?
“She seems happy enough dancing with...” I waved my hand absently in front of me, “the dick in the suit.”
Throwing back his head, Dion laughed. “You’re gonna fight this every step of the way, aren’t you?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, brother.” My eyes not straying from Elodie, I motioned with my hand. Instantly, one of the bikers who ran security was at my side. My whispered request was met with stony silence, but he moved away and through the crowd anyway, leaving me with Dion, who was laughing like this was the funniest thing he had witnessed in his life.
I ignored him.
“I can’t believe you did that.” Shaking his head, Dion joined me in leaning forward, both of us watching Elodie’s reaction as the burly biker slid into her space, literally putting his body between hers and the man who was getting far too close for comfort. There was some motioning of hands, mostly hers.
And then she looked straight up at us. Her eyes narrowed into slits, and even from across the dance floor, I could see how pissed off she looked.
“Uh oh.” Dion climbed to his feet. “She does not look happy with you.”
“What do you mean with me? Hey, where are you going?”
In answer, he shot me the finger with a laugh. “Oh, I’m not staying, Jax, you can deal with that particular tornado all by yourself.”
SEVEN
Elodie
Jax at least had the good graces to look afraid as I stomped towards him in my heels. And heels or not, I could certainly stomp. The small crowd in the VIP section parted before me almost like they could feel my growing anger.
Jax watched me march towards him, most of his demeanour that of cock-sure, unaffected rockstar, but his eyes gave him away. There was definite trepidation in them. There should have been abject terror, because when I was done with him, he would never interfere in my personal life again.
Or any other woman’s, for that matter.
Twenty-four hours into starting this job, and I was done with him. I was done with his sarcastic comments and dirty looks. Hell, I was done with Jax full stop. This latest dick move was the last straw. What right did he have to get one of the Sons to drag me away from someone just because I was dancing with them? Neither Jax nor The Savage Sons had any hold over me. They never had and they never would.
“Hey, Goldilocks.” Jax’s drawl washed over me. He sat there, staring up at me with his arm casually flung along the back of the leather sofa. “Having fun?” Eyes squinting against the flashing lights, he took his time checking me out again, lazily letting his gaze drift up my legs and over my curves. When he got to my face, he winked, and I wanted nothing more than to smack that stupid, panty-wetting smile straight off his face.
