Page 70 of Objection Overruled
“I’m not.”
“You’re lying.”
He pauses. And then, quieter—maybe even sincere, which is horrifying, “I’m... not entirely surprised.”
That’s it. That’s all he says. But somehow, it sticks.
Before I can process whatever emotional minefield that was, someone new slides into the seat across from us.
“Rowan,” the guy with the smug smile says. “About time they let you out into polite society.”
Rowan’s posture shifts.
“Camden,” he replies.
Ah. Camden.
Camden Price, according to the name card and the aura of tax evasion. He’s all sleek hair and curated tan.
“And you must be…?” Camden turns to me, eyes slow.
“Tessa,” I say, offering my hand with a smile sharp enough to slice citrus.
“Well, Tessa, you’re the most surprising thing I’ve seen tonight. And I don’t say that lightly.” He leans forward, voice low, charming in the way cologne-induced migraines are charming. “I always assumed Rowan’s taste skewed more… trashy. But this”—he gestures at me—“is delightful.”
Across the table, Rowan’s hand tightens slightly on his water glass.
I don’t take my eyes off Camden. “That’s so sweet. Did you practice that line in the mirror, or was it just instinct?”
He grins, undeterred. “Oh, I like her.”
“I’m deeply concerned,” I reply cheerfully, stabbing my fork into a very delicate piece of asparagus.
Olivia sips her wine faster.
Camden doesn’t miss a beat. “So, how long have you two been together?”
I meet his gaze evenly. “Five years.”
His brows lift, amused. “Really?”
“Off and on,” I add.
“Mostly on,” Rowan says smoothly, not missing a beat.
I nearly drop my fork. And I don’t think I’m the only one who notices.
“Well,” Camden drawls, swirling his wine, “I always said you were the dark horse, King. Hiding this one away all these years. Strategic, really.”
“She’s not hidden,” Rowan says, his tone so calm. “Just protected.”
Camden’s smile doesn’t falter, but the shift in his posture gives him away. The kind of man who’s used to having the last word now realizes he won’t get it here.
I sip my wine because someone has to fill the silence, and if it’s not me, it’s going to be Rowan saying something that gets us both escorted out.
“Protected,” Camden repeats, leaning back. “That’s a strong word.”
“An accurate one,” Rowan replies without looking up from his plate.
