Ryker accepted it with a casual hand, clearly uninterested—until his eyes scanned the paper. His expression sharpened with growing attention.
“Looks good,” he said at last, then passed it across the table to Rhys.
Rhys whistled low under his breath as he skimmed it. “She doesn’t come to play, eh? These look incredible.”
Ryker barely nodded, his gaze drifting past the menu and landing squarely on me. His eyes narrowed slightly, voice low but steady. “What’s going on with James? Will he be coming to my party?”
Beside me, Rhys stiffened. His jaw clenched, and a low growl rumbled deep in his chest. His hand, already resting on my thigh under the table, tightened for the briefest moment—then eased. He caught himself. Ryker didn’t know what James had done.
“It’s... complicated,” I murmured,
