Page 44 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

“I will drown you in that pool.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you tried.”

We made it through the entrance, still pressed together, still smiling, and the moment we were out of sight of the cameras, she shoved me away.

“What is wrong with you?”

“You pinched me!”

“Because you grabbed my ass!”

“You have a very grab-able ass!”

She stared at me, and I stared back.

“Did you just—” she started, tilting her head.

“I stand by it.”

Her face flushed—from anger or something else, I wasn’t sure—and she turned on her heel, stalking toward the party.

I followed, adjusting my bow tie and trying not to think about how good she looked walking away from me. Especially that ass.

Fuck me. I was whipped.

PART II

“We’re in public.”

“What if I want everyone to hear how hard I make my fiancée come? How pleased she is with me? Hm? What if?”

14

THAT’S DANGEROUS

DEEPIKA

I was annoyed. No, I was furious.

Not because Liam had grabbed my ass in front of fifty cameras and a crowd of LA’s elite, and not because he whispered something obscene while kissing my forehead like we were in a romance novel.

I was annoyed because I liked it. And wanted him to do it again in private.

I could still feel the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric of my dress and the solid weight of him pressed against me with his hot breath on my temple. The way my body had responded immediately, melting into him before my brain could override it.

I had to yell at him because the alternative was pulling him closer, and that was absolutely not happening.

I stalked away from him, putting distance between us, and tried to focus on literally anything else.

The pool party was obscene in the way only LA could pull off. The Beverly Hilton’s rooftop had been transformed into something out of a lifestyle magazine. It had white cabanas with billowing curtains, low tables covered in orchids, servers in crisp uniforms circulating with champagne and tiny geometric food that probably cost more per bite than my fifteen-dollar dress.

The pool itself was massive, infinity edge, and the water so blue it looked photoshopped. People were already in it, Olympic bodies cutting through the water or lounging on inflatable swans that definitely cost more than my car.

The scent of chlorine mixed with expensive perfume and something grilled from the catering station. Sunscreen and citrus were in the air as the warm California sun beat down, making everything hazy and golden.

I grabbed a champagne flute from a passing server and downed half of it.

“Easy there, Sharma,” Liam said, appearing at my elbow, looking completely at ease in his perfectly tailored suit. “We haven’t even made it to the hard liquor yet.”