Help me, fucker.
He smiles as if he already knows what’s going on in my head.
Tristan finally takes a seat, and Melina leans over and kisses him. “Let’s go mingle.”
He frowns as he takes his first sip of scotch. “No, babe. I’m staying here. Knock yourself out.”
Melina waves at a woman on the other side of the room and stands. “Back in a moment.” She smiles to the table as she practically runs to the woman and air kisses her two cheeks. “Darling,” she cries, and they fake gush over each other.
My eyes find Jameson’s, and he rolls his lips in amusement. It’s as if he can read my mind.
She’s a twit.
Jameson’s jaw tilts skyward, and his tongue runs across his teeth as if he’s angered. I follow his line of sight and see a group of men and women arriving at a table across from us. My eyes
