Page 66 of Pin My Alpha
Jude looks from me, to Shay, and back again. “Good luck,” he says, and it’s for both of us.
“Get out,” Shay says, his voice quiet. He keeps his eyes on his folder.
Jude’s mouth tightens. “Shay, man—”
“I said get out.” He looks up then. His eyes are flat. Cold. He looks right through his friend.
For a second, Jude just stares, his face stripped bare. Then he lets Rhys guide him toward the door.
The lock clicks.
The silence rushes in, huge and empty. All I can hear is the low hum of the coolers. The place is a wreck in that perfect way that means success. A sea of empty glasses, crumpled napkins, coasters stuck to the bar top. The new green sign reflects off the wet wood, making the whole room look unfamiliar.
Shay snaps the folder shut. “That went well,” he says, his voice perfectly even.
My laugh is just a noise. A short, ugly sound in the quiet room. “Did it?”
He finally looks at me. His face is pale with exhaustion, the skin around his eyes tight. “The numbers beat projections. Socials are up. You have enough data on the promo menu to make the cuts.”
He’s giving me a report. After all this, he’s giving me a fucking report.
I just stare at him until he shifts on his feet.
“What?” he asks.
“That’s it?” My voice is low. “That’s what tonight was?”
His expression goes blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“All night,” I say, gesturing to the empty room. “People were congratulating us. Calling you my partner. You just stood there.”
“I was working.”
“That’s bullshit.”
His eyes flash. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “This wasn’t just a business arrangement.”
He sets the folder down on the bar. The movement is slow, deliberate. Controlled. “I worked my ass off for this.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t imply I’m treating it like a one-night stand.”
The accusation cuts deeper than I expect. “You were in my bed on Sunday, Shay. You built a nest out of my clothes.”
“Don’t,” he says, his voice tight.
“You marked me.”
“Declan.”
“I told you I loved you.”
For a second, something flickers in his eyes. Hurt, maybe. Then it’s gone, and the wall is back up, thicker than before.
“You said a lot of things,” he says, his voice quiet and cold. “That doesn’t mean I signed a contract in my sleep.”
