Those rings glint in the light as he runs a hand through his hair, sending it spiking in wild angles. That gesture I’m familiar with. I almost smile when I see it.

Almost. Because there is a stunning redhead clutching his arm. Her hair is a dark honey auburn that contrasts sharply with her pale skin and is pulled back in a severe ponytail that highlights the symmetry of her features. She’s tall and thin and wearing impossibly high Jimmy Choo heels. Those heels, with rainbow sequins and fluffy little feathers on the toes, should look ridiculous but instead make her look like some sort of Park Avenue fairy princess.

Unwelcome jealousy coats my insides like hot tar.

What’s worse is that even though he’s with a beautiful woman who could very well be a model, his eye is roving. Several other equally stunning women swarm around him and he doesn’t even bother to hide the way he checks out their assets. He holds court over these women, giving them his sly smile, the one that promises you’ll have a good time even if you’ll regret it later.

That smile, the easy way he fits in with these people, depresses me. For all his confidence, there’s a dullness in his eyes, as though he’s playing a part. Had he done it with me as well and I’d been too blinded by him to see it until now? Does he truly care about anything?

The fairy heel–wearing redhead laughs with John and then swats his arm, and I have my answer. He cares about her. It’s in the way his expression softens and his body leans into hers. They are comfortable with each other in a way that none of the hangers-on around them are. These two are a couple.

The knowledge sits like a block of ice in my chest. All the times I’ve butted heads with John, I never considered he had someone. He’d flirted with me as if maybe he’d been attracted to me the way I am to him, unwillingly but completely. Which makes me a fool; he was just having fun pushing my buttons.

I want to look away. I intend to look away. But, as if he feels my gaze, John lifts his head. Those famous green eyes that make fans weak in the knees lock on to me. And I’m just as susceptible as I’d been before. I feel it in my toes, between my legs, everywhere.

I’m not certain what I expected of him. A frown. A smirk.

He breaks into a wide grin, and my heart flips, my breath catching. Jesus, he should not be allowed to do that. It scrambles my brain and makes me want things that are impossible. I’m not supposed to like him anymore. I made a vow, damn it. But when he looks at me as though I’m the best thing he’s seen all day, it’s hard not to smile back.

Anticipation bubbles in my veins like the champagne I’ve been drinking, and it’s a struggle to stand still.

“Do you know Jax Blackwood?” Richard says at my ear.

I jolt, having forgotten he was there. With shocking difficulty, I tear my gaze away from John.

Richard’s eyes fill with fond warmth. “Or has he just noticed you and realized you’re the most beautiful woman he’ll ever have the pleasure to meet?”

“Old flatterer,” I say, laughing.

“I’m French,” he says with a shrug.

“Which means you grossly exaggerate a woman’s assets to appease her?” I’m only half teasing. I am well aware of my best features, and I’m happy enough with my body. But I also know that I am in no way the most beautiful woman in the room.

He makes a noise as if to say I’m being ridiculous. “I might have to pay for the pleasure of your company, but that does not mean I am blind. In fact, it makes me something of a connoisseur of your charms. You are utterly lovely, my dear.”

It’s my turn to make a noise. I’m not interested in Richard romantically, and I know him enough to realize he’s being kind. Yet again, he’s just driven home that we will never be anything more than a business arrangement.

Oblivious, he laughs at my sour face. “Tell me, then? How do you know Jax?”

“I’m her neighbor,” John says, just behind me.

My stomach plummets to my toes. Fuck. What had he heard? By the calculating look in his eyes, I’m guessing too much. There are only so many ways he can take what Richard said. My spine stiffens. Fuck it. I’m not explaining anything.

He holds my gaze. “Hey, Stella.”

The soft way he says my name catches me off guard. In contrast, my response is stilted and awkward. “Jax.”

He frowns at the use of his stage name, but then his brow smooths. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” He laughs. “Though I probably should have.”

He’s not far off. We keep colliding like we live in a small town instead of one of the biggest cities in the world.

I give him a thin smile, unable to think of a damn thing to say. He stares at me for a second, then turns his attention to Richard, giving him a stiff smile. “Hey, man. How’s the new restaurant coming along?”

They know each other? Of course they do.

Richard shakes John’s hand. “I am pleased. You haven’t yet come in for dinner.”

“A mistake I must rectify. I miss your food.”

Richard nods. “Perhaps you’ll bring Stella with you.”

It’s a struggle not to stomp on Richard’s foot.

John glances at me. Whatever he sees—perhaps, my oh hell no, don’t even think about it expression—has him smiling with fake enthusiasm and slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Can’t think of anyone I’d rather take with me.”

I grunt and dislodge the warm weight of his arm. Damn thing feels like silk and steel along the back of my neck. The second it’s gone, I miss his touch, which really annoys me.

“How do you two know each other?” I ask Richard, because I don’t want to pay attention to the smug rocker at my side.

“I was going to ask the same of you two,” John cuts in. His arm brushes against mine and the little hairs on my skin lift with a shiver. I want to press closer, ease that strange, unfulfilled awareness that he’s created by touching me. I remain steady, pretending I’m unmoved.

Richard’s lips quirk as he takes it all in, but when he speaks, his voice is as light and pleasant as always. “I am a great fan of Kill John.”

“And I am a great fan of anything Richard chooses to put on my plate,” John adds happily. “He also gave Rye and me cooking lessons a while back. And I can say with all honesty, I was the better student.”

“Humble too,” I mutter. Of course John had coveted lessons from Richard. I’m suddenly feeling a lot less unique.

Richard chuckles. “No, it is true. Rye was completely hopeless.”

John’s expression is bright with laughter. “He was afraid of the raw chicken. Had a total fit about it and kept trying to carve it without actually having to touch it.”

Both men dissolve into laughter.

“Richard Dubious,” exclaims a crisp feminine voice, cutting through their deep chuckles. “I thought that was you.”

John’s redhead has found us. She practically flings herself into Richard’s arms and gives him a hug. Richard kisses her cheeks. “Brenna, darling. You are a vision.”

I glance toward the front door with longing.

“Old flatterer,” she says with a swat to his shoulder.

Surprised that she used the same words as I had, I can only stare. She has the same innate confidence that Jax has and a sense of style I envy. She catches my eye and gives me a friendly smile. “I’m sorry. I completely interrupted.” Her catlike eyes narrow. “Have we met? You look familiar to me.”