Her Revenge
We head to the bar and climb onto high stools.
The bartender is just as Natasha promised—sexy, inked, and cocky as hell. A stud glints in his ear, and he grins wide when he sees her.
“Delilah. Looking good as always.”
I arch a brow at Natasha, who plays dumb. Delilah?
“Thanks, hon,” she says, fluttering her lashes. “As it should be.” Then she gestures to me. “This is my friend, Evelyn. Evelyn, meet Damon—the walking, talking thirst trap I told you about.”
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