“What did I tell you?” Jeremy’s voice hit me from behind. “I don’t care who you’re related to. Staff only back here.”
I didn’t turn around. “Zadie, are you okay?”
A toilet flushed. Water ran.
“Hey.” Jeremy’s hand clamped down on my shoulder. “I said get out. Go back to your little girlfriend and let me handle this.”
I looked at his hand first. Then at his repugnant fucking face. “Take your hand off me.”
Something in my voice made him comply. His hand dropped, but his chin lifted. “This is my bar.”
“And she’s my—” I shut my mouth before the wrong word slipped out. “I’m not leaving her alone with you. End of conversation.”
The bathroom door swung open. Zadie stood there, pale and wrung out. “My head is splitting. The last thing I need is the two of you measuring dicks out here.”
“Are you all right?” I asked, lowering my voice.
“I’m fine. Bad food.” The lie was automatic and unconvincing.
“Okay.” Jeremy ran a hand down the front of his shirt. “Take a minute, then I need you back on the floor.”
Zadie ignored him completely, her eyes landing on me with cold resolve. “I can take care of myself. Go back to the girl in the bunny ears, Caleb. Wouldn’t want to keep your date waiting.”
“She’s not my date. I’m here with Chantel. I don’t even know that girl’s name.”
Color rose in her cheeks, and her jaw clenched tighter.
Jeremy snickered from behind me. He didn’t need to flex his empty authority. He could see I’d buried myself.
“Whatever.” Zadie pushed past both of us, heading back to the floor. “It doesn’t matter. We’re not even friends anymore, right? Go have a good time with whoever you like. I’ve got work to do.”
She was gone before I could argue. The door swung shut behind her, leaving me alone with an asshole and the ruins of all my good intentions.
“You fucked that up nicely.” Jeremy crossed his arms, looking genuinely entertained.
He wasn’t wrong. And I hated him even more for it.
“Stay away from her.” I held his stare. “I mean it.”
“Or what?”
The question hung between us. I wanted to tell him I’d take him apart. That if he touched her, looked at her wrong, or used his title to corner her one more time, I’d make sure he regretted it.
But violence disgusted me. Even when my thoughts were savage. And my family owned the fucking place—one word, and he’d be gone.
I gave him one last look that he could interpret however the hell he wanted and walked out.
But putting him behind me didn’t kill the rage. It wasn’t all his fault. Fuck, it wasn’t even the situation. It was me.
I’d created this mess by acting like a scared kid, instead of stepping up like the goddamn man that I was. Nothing would need to be fixed if I hadn’t broken it in the first place.
I pushed back through the crowd—through all the noise and the costumes and the bullshit—and searched for Zadie. But either the place was too crowded, or she was hiding from me.
The bunny ears stood out, though. And somehow, that was the thing that kept me from spiraling. Not the ears themselves or the girl they were attached to, but the memory of the look on Zadie’s face when she’d seen me with her.
That look wasn’t indifference. It wasn’t just friends.
It was raw, unfiltered jealousy.