“Frank Hamilton, Coast-to-Coast, commercial real estate,” the man says as he puts out his hand.

I grimace at him as I slowly take my hand out of my pocket to shake his, even though I really don’t want to. I’m here representing Hazel so I won’t be too much of a dick.

“Murph,” I answer. Savannah looks up at me as I say my name, quickly taking a drink of her whiskey and averting her eyes.

“Just Murph,” she mutters against the rim of her glass.

“This is Savannah,” I answer with a hard glare in her direction. He shakes her hand and I feel myself watching him fiercely, afraid of the fucked up thoughts in his head when he looks down at her dress.

“I sit on the board with your benefactress, and I have to say, I’ve always admired Ms. Whitaker’s fierce business behavior.”

“If you think she’s fierce...” I mutter, and Savannah laughs into her drink.

Hamilton laughs too, but his chuckle is forced and clearly uncomfortable.

“Well, I won’t beat around the bush then,” he says.

“Good idea.”

“There are a lot of eyes on that property on the strip, hopes of building a new shopping district on Wickett, and that means a major opportunity for you to become a very rich man.”

My arms cross as I stare at this guy. He has all the marks of a rich yuppy asshole. Perfect, young skin, fair features, no calluses on his hands. He wants to take something very important from me, and he thinks his money is enough to do it. I want to punch him in his perfect nose for even having the nerve to walk over here to talk to me.

“Not interested,” I say flatly.

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” he laughs, taking a sip of his drink. He smiles at me a moment, like he’s strategizing his next plan of attack. Then his gaze wanders over to the beautiful young girl standing next to me, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from swearing at him.

“Surely, you can talk your man into this,” he says with a wide smile.

“Oh, he’s not my man,” Savannah answers. Her tone matches mine, cold and colorless, but her words sting. I sure as fuck am her man, whether or not she knows it. At least for tonight.

Hamilton’s face brightens. “Is that so?”

He leans in, placing his arm behind Savannah, his hand drifting far too low for my comfort. Why did Hazel send me to this thing? Did she set me up to make a scene? Maybe even get arrested. She would do something like that.

“Well, if you’re not attached to this big party pooper, what do you say to a walk around the club? I’d love to show you the balconies. They have an amazing view, and it’s just about sunset.”

I could crush my glass in my hand as I wait for Savannah to elbow this asshole in the dick and tell him to fuck off, but she doesn’t. She keeps her eyes on me, the wheels in her head obviously turning. I’d give anything to know what she’s thinking.