Chapter 66 So, You Want To Do This Here?
Bryson slid his card across the table, his expression calm but unreadable. The server whisked it away and returned with the receipt before Amelia had even drained the last sip of her coffee. She could feel the tension beneath his stillness—the same tension she felt in her own chest—as they rose together and stepped out into the bright afternoon.
Evan was already waiting at the curb, blending into the foot traffic until he peeled off toward them. “She slipped into a cab,” he murmured to Bryson, keeping his voice low enough that only the group could hear. “Didn’t get a plate number.”
They clustered near the sidewalk, talking in low tones—Lila and Claire still buzzing with questions—when another cab rolled to a stop in front of the bistro.
Amelia didn’t need to be told. She saw Ashley before anyone spoke, stepping out with that same glossy magazine folded under one arm, eyes fixed on Bryson like a magnet finding north.
Marcus and Evan both moved at once, bodies angling to intercept. But Amelia lifted her hand, voice steady. “Let her through.”
Ashley came on, a smile curling her mouth. Her hand rose as if to touch Bryson’s arm—or maybe his chest; Amelia wasn’t sure—but before it could land she stepped smoothly in front of him, palm outstretched.
“Hi. I’m Amelia,” she said, voice cool but polite. “Who are you?”
Ashley blinked, thrown off balance by the introduction. For a heartbeat she faltered, then gathered herself, her eyes flicking from Amelia’s extended hand back to Bryson. She tried to step sideways, fingers reaching again for him.
Amelia blocked her, just a fraction closer this time, her smile tightening. “Please don’t put your hands on my man.”
Claire and Lila both moved forward instinctively, a silent wall of support. Behind them, Bryson’s breath shifted—half turned on by the flash of steel in Amelia’s voice, half worried at how quickly this was escalating.
Marcus and Evan edged closer again, but Amelia flicked a hand back without even looking. “I got it.”
Then she leveled her gaze at Ashley, pinning her in place. “Ashley, is it?”
Ashley’s eyes widened at the sound of her name, but she straightened, chin tilting in defiance.
“I don’t know what your reason is for watching me,” Amelia said evenly, “and I don’t know what you think you’ll get out of it. But Bryson is mine. So if you’d like to keep that pretty little face with those doe eyes intact, I advise you keep your hands to yourself—” she leaned in, voice dropping just enough to slice through the noise of the street—“and tell me what you want with Bryson.”
The words hung between them like a charged wire, the crowd’s noise dimming around the small circle of bodies on the sidewalk.
Ashley’s lips parted, her composure wobbling before she forced a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What do I want with him?” She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Same thing every woman wants with a man like Bryson. Attention. Maybe a little acknowledgment that I exist.”
Her gaze slid past Amelia toward him, softening with calculated sweetness. “And he knows I exist. Don’t you, Bryson?”
Bryson didn’t flinch, didn’t move. His hand rested lightly at Amelia’s back, steadying her, but his silence made Ashley’s smile falter.
Amelia stepped half a breath closer, reclaiming the space Ashley was trying to steal. “You don’t get to stand here and rewrite history. He doesn’t owe you anything—not acknowledgment, not attention, not even a glance. And as long as I’m standing here, you’ll get even less than that.”
Ashley’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. For the first time, her mask slipped—just for a second—and Amelia saw the bite of frustration under all that gloss.
Then Ashley smoothed her expression, voice syrupy again. “We’ll see. Men always come back around.”
That was when Bryson shifted, sliding his arm fully around Amelia’s waist and tugging her flush against him. He bent, pressing his mouth to the curve of her neck, lips brushing over her skin in slow, deliberate kisses.
Amelia’s giggle spilled out, light and unforced, her head tipping back just enough to savor the sensation. When she looked at Ashley again, her expression was cool, her voice flat as steel.
“Not this one.”
The air between them snapped taut, final. Ashley’s eyes went wide before she masked it, straightening like nothing had touched her. But the tremor in her hand as she reached for the cab door betrayed her.
She slid inside without another word, the slam of the door echoing louder than it should have. The cab pulled away, leaving Amelia tucked into Bryson’s arms, the whole street humming with the sharpness of what had just been declared.
The cab’s taillights disappeared into traffic, but Bryson didn’t let go. His arm stayed locked around Amelia’s waist, his lips still brushing her skin as though he couldn’t help himself.
“Christ, baby…” His voice was low, rough, meant for her alone. “You have no idea what that just did to me.” He pulled back just enough to look at her, his pale eyes stormy with equal parts heat and worry. “You shouldn’t have had to step in like that. But the way you did?” His mouth curved, a rare, almost dangerous smile. “You were fucking magnificent.”
Amelia’s laugh was soft, breathless. “I told you—she doesn’t get to win.”
Bryson kissed her once more, quick and certain, before the moment broke with a throat being cleared nearby.
Claire fanned herself dramatically, eyes wide. “Well. If I wasn’t already convinced you two are ridiculous for each other, I am now.”
Lila crossed her arms, her expression equal parts impressed and smug. “Ridiculous, yes—but in the best way. Amelia, the way you checked that woman? I’ve waited my whole life to see someone handle crazy like that in heels and a silk blouse.”
Amelia flushed, shaking her head. “I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done.”
Bryson’s arm tightened around her waist again, his gaze sliding toward Lila and Claire. “No. You did more. You stood in front of me.”
Claire arched a brow, a teasing smile breaking her seriousness. “And kissed him in front of a stalker. Honestly iconic.”
Lila grinned, looping her arm through Amelia’s. “Now let’s get out of here before someone calls Page Six.”
Amelia glanced at the cab pulling away, then back to Lila and Claire. Their afternoon was already broken open, the easy brunch chatter long gone. She squeezed Bryson’s hand once before turning to her friends.
“Come back to the penthouse with us,” she said. “Since our day was cut short, we can finish it there.”
Lila raised her brows but smiled. “Don’t tempt me with rooftop views and champagne.”
Claire laughed, looping her scarf tighter around her neck. “Fine, twist my arm.”
Bryson gave Amelia the faintest nod, understanding in his eyes. She slipped into the backseat of his car with Lila and Claire, while Bryson stepped aside, climbing in with Evan and Marcus. It wasn’t lost on Amelia—he wanted her cocooned with her friends, while he stayed close with the men who kept watch.