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“What are you? A cheerleader? An underwear model? Trust me, you’re nothing more than his latest fling—”
    “Georgia.” Reade’s tone was sharp and dark, and a shiver coiled around my spine. There was something within me that almost liked that voice on him. “Enough.”
    “ Reade —”
    “You’re being a rude brat, cut it out,” he said, sounding more like her father than her big brother. “I’ll give you a few minutes to think about your behavior.”
    She opened her mouth to respond, but he soundly cut her off by pointedly turning his back on her. “Come on,” he murmured to me, touching my elbow and encouraging me to turn with him and walk away. I got one last look at Georgia’s gaping mouth and her eyes full of fury, before falling into step with Reade.
    “Listen, I’m sorry,” Reade said, embarrassment now evident in his tone. “My sister can be…difficult.”
    I waved him off, because what did I care about a bratty sister? Except…well. I hadn’t planned on getting involved with a man whose sister hated me. It was a complication I didn’t need.
    This is just a date , I reminded myself as he led me away from the dance floor, his hand warm on the small of my back. It doesn’t have to be anything more than this, no matter how close you’d come to almost following him back to the VIP rooms… I swallowed thickly and smiled up at him when he suggested we swing by the bar for fresh champagne.
    He got stopped by a stuffy-looking gentleman who immediately pulled him into a conversation about the press allegations, and I broke away from him, heading over to the bar to get the drinks myself. Once there, I got talking with the bartender, a Latina woman who introduced herself as Jazz, purple streaks in her hair and an oversized nose ring decorating her face. “No offense but you don’t look like you belong with this crowd,” Jazz drawled, and it pushed us into a conversation about the obscene wealth that emanated from everyone in this place, how no one here had a stray hair or a bit of smudged make up. “You’re about the only real person I’ve seen here tonight,” Jazz whispered to me, pretending to be busy with champagne flutes as she eyed the crowd.
    My gaze drifted over to Reade as I watched him talk in animated gestures, and I smiled. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
    Afterwards, two champagne flutes in hand, I met Reade in the middle and he suggested we head out to the rooftop to get some fresh air. He’d apparently gotten into an argument and needed to cool off. The temperature outside was chilly but not unpleasant; he draped his jacket over my shoulders as we strolled towards a bench sitting amongst rose bushes planted on the roof, with twinkling fairy lights overhead and moonlight spilling onto the vast expanse of the hotel. We could still hear the music and the chatter, just slightly, and the soft sounds mixed with the scent of Reade’s cologne lulled me into a sense of comfort and ease, allowing me to sit a little closer to him, feel his warmth.
    “So…” I said, taking a sip of my champagne. “Latest fling, huh?”
    He eyed me, something like a dry joke on his face. “You’re not a fling or my latest anything. You’re my date,” he said, hand coming down on mine where I had it laid against my thigh, “and I’m pretty fucking happy to have you on my arm tonight.” He stroked his thumb over my knuckles, adding, “Ignore her,” and my heart gave a stammered beat.
    “This place is beautiful,” I said after a few moments of quiet. “Must cost a fortune to rent out the whole lounge for an event like this.”
    He waited a beat, then said carefully, “A fortune is relative.”
    It took me a second to realize what he meant, and I quirked my mouth into a smile. “Yeah,” I drawled, pressing the rim of my glass to my lip. “Because you’re an NFL player. And your father owns the team and probably half this town.” He raised an eyebrow at that, and I waved my glass at