Not setting her place was intended to be a reprieve rather than a defiance of Score. Sitting next to him, so close to him, could work her into a frenzy. Her mind was ablaze with the possibilities of what could happen later that night. She couldn’t even focus on Beeks and Fish’s conversation to work out what they were talking about. Score had her plate and was serving her food. Attentive and thorough, it always amazed her that he might belong to her.
The buzzing anticipation was so potent it almost had mass. Her aura was heavy, but with the happy burden of expectation. When Score put her plate down and began to serve his own food, she watched him, taking in as much of him as she could. It was then Shyla realized her enthusiasm wasn’t just about the sex. If they did it that night then as early as tomorrow, Score could be ready to go public.
That changed their situation from a private affair into a real tangible relationship. After they were out, Shyla would have rights over him in the same way he’d have rights over her. Even sitting at the dinner table, she’d be able to acknowledge him in a way she couldn’t while their association was still clandestine.
“Shyla?”
Beeks voice stole her attention away from Score, who was already in his seat eating.
“What?” she asked, then noted the lawyer’s frown. “Yes, sorry, I was a million miles away.”
That wasn’t entirely true, she hadn’t been far from the table. She’d just been very focused on a particular person at the table and on what that particular person might do to her later.
“I asked if you were ready for tomorrow,” Beeks said.
After reordering her thoughts, she figured out what he was talking about. “The funeral?”
“Yes,” Beeks said, frowning at Score then at her. “What else do you have on tomorrow?”
“Nothing,” she said, pushing aside a brief thought about possible morning sex. “Just the… Stan’s thing.”
Her emotions had been high and tight since waking up with Score. Grief had been the furthest thing from her mind. Guilt swamped her. How could she have forgotten that she would have to say goodbye to Stan? The funeral centered her. She stopped obsessing about Score and sex, and started to think about Mick and returning to what had once been her home.
“Have you heard from that asshole guy?” Fish asked.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “He doesn’t have my number and we didn’t give him an address, right?”
“He wanted your address?” Score asked.
She shrugged and started to eat. “It’s a power play… or he thinks I’m a honed criminal.”
“Not that far from one,” Fish said on a snort, scooping up some food. “You sure you don’t want me to come, boss? I can take that guy if you want me to.”
“I can take that guy,” Score said, calm, straightforward and completely composed.
“It won’t come to that,” she said, then second guessed herself. “I hope.”
Mick liked to bluster, but from what she knew of him through Stan, he was also a chickenshit. She doubted he’d stand up to Score. Fish had intimidated him and the youngster was only a fraction as threatening as Score.
“If you need a protective order, I can arrange that for you,” Beeks said. “We can go to the police station—”
“Really, I don’t think Mick will cause trouble. He would if I was by myself, but I won’t be by myself, will I?”
Her hand began to move toward Score’s. Just in time, she stopped herself making contact. Touching him would remind her of her anticipation. Her mind went blank. For some reason, she couldn’t remember how to act around him.
At a typical breakfast, there were tasks to keep her occupied. While working, she didn’t have to think about whether or not to touch him. They were never near each other for more than a few seconds anyway.
That wasn’t always true. She had licked him at breakfast once, but it was incidental… sort of, and no one had seen it.
Holding herself back, Shyla tried not to be too obvious about putting her hand back on the table. Somehow, she sensed people looking at her. The sensation wasn’t the same as when Score looked through her. That was a warm kind of vibrating intensity, the current moment was the exact opposite. Beeks, at least, had to be wondering about the odd action. That wasn’t the first time he’d been suspicious. Damn, she wanted to kick herself and hoped Score wasn’t mad.
“How are things at the club?” she asked in an attempt to divert the conversation.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Score said before anyone else could think to offer anything.
Worrying was a strong word, she’d simply been trying to change the subject. Obsessing about the funeral would lead her in a loop. The previous night her loop was only broken by Score distracting her. At dinner, in front of their friends, she’d already drawn attention to them. Score wouldn’t want to make them more suspicious.
“I want to know more,” she said. “You guys spend a lot of time there. How were the auditions?”
That question was a guaranteed way to get Fish talking. Just the mention of it made him light up. With little prompting, he started to give her a rundown of each girl, what they’d done in their audition and who they’d hired. The names didn’t mean much to her, but she got a better understanding of how Beeks got drawn into debates with him.
Beeks. At first, it started with Beeks offering little corrections. Eventually, Fish disagreed with one of
