Page 74 of Forged

“No,” I return. “Not married. Not attached—wife, boyfriend, or otherwise.”

Lars’ eyes dart to mine at that addition. I hold his gaze as I raise my glass to my mouth. The silence stretches a bit too long. Neomi watches us carefully, and this time the sound she makes isn’t subtle. A small, involuntary inhale.

I lean forward slightly. “Neomi, have you had a dance this evening?”

“I did.”

“Can I buy you another?” I turn to Lars. “If that’s all right with you, of course.”

Lars’ smile grows almost mischievous, and I see the moment he decides not to shut this down. “Fine with me. Up to Neomi.”

I fan my hand toward the room. “Take your pick. Who is your favorite?”

Her eyes scan the floor, moving from stage to stage until they settle. I watch the exact moment her attention locks in.

“Her,” she says, pointing subtly. “The redhead would probably be my first pick, but she’s already dancing for someone, so?—”

I cut her off gently as I rise from my seat. “That doesn’t matter. I’ll be right back.”

As I step away from the table, I can feel both of their eyes on my back, and I know they aren’t watching me as a stranger. They’re watching me as a possibility.

“Where is he going?”

My fingers tighten around the stem of my champagne flute as I watch Gabriel leave our table.

Lars doesn’t look concerned. If anything, there’s amusement in his eyes while his thumb traces an idle line along the bare skin of my thigh.

“You asked for the redhead,” he says calmly. “Let’s see what he does with that.”

I turn back toward the stage as Gabriel crosses the floor. The music pulses beneath us, thick and heavy, the lighting shifting from gold to a warmer red as the dancer I pointed out begins another dance for the man seated in front of her. Her hips rolling in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, her hair falling to conceal her face as she leans toward the man

Gabriel stops at the edge of their table and leans down, speaking close to her ear without interrupting the performance. I see the dancer’s expression change. Her eyes flick toward our table—toward me—and then back to him.

The man she’s dancing for straightens, clearly annoyed. Hegestures upward, his mouth moving sharply, but Gabriel doesn’t falter. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few bills, folding them before placing them calmly on the table in front of the man.

The man’s posture changes, seeming satisfied with the deal Gabriel offered.

My pulse jumps.

“That was…” I trail off, unable to find the right word.

“Confident?” Lars offers softly.

I glance at him. “You could call it that.”

I’m still watching the dancer finish before settling with the man and disappearing toward the back. Gabriel doesn’t follow her, he simply turns and begins walking back toward us

Lars watches Gabriel’s approach without tension. His hand remains warm on my thigh, fingers flexing when our eyes meet. There’s something in his expression that sends a heat through me that I’m not prepared for.

“Are you jealous?” I ask quietly.

“No, I don’t do the jealous thing, Neomi.”

The answer comes too easily to be a lie.

“Possessive?” I press.

His gaze drops to my mouth before lifting again. “Always.”