Gentlemen Only

Wallflower, Interrupted

Jet's POV

Jet swirled the scotch in his glass before tipping it back and downing the last mouthful. His fingers tapped on the bar in agitation, eyes never once leaving Meredith's form as Corrigan paraded her around the club. That prick had swooped in unceremoniously and pilfered her away, right when he was making progress.

So far nobody had made a move on her, and she stayed glued to the wall, which Jet found surprising. Today she was dressed in fitted slacks and a tailored blouse with her hair trailing loosely down her shoulders. Her make up was simple but she'd forgone the glasses for contacts, allowing her large, doe like eyes to be on display. The intensity of their blue knocked him off his feet any time she made eye contact. He'd spent the last several minutes wallowing at the bar, upset that he couldn't protect her from this den of wolves in gentlemen's clothing. Sure, they were all good men, and charming to boot, but they had faults, particularly when it came to the tender subject of courtship.

Jet's eyes narrowed as Corrigan intervened in her solitude and steered Meredith toward a group of men, hand on the small of her back. The firm gesture bothered him more than it should, but Corrigan didn't know Meredith like Jet did. The raven-haired man noticed the nearly imperceptible stiffness in her back where Corrigan touched her, the jerkiness of her hips as she was led against her will. The smile on her face was forced, Jet knew, because she so frequently graced him with genuine ones. Jet caught her hesitant glance as she searched for reassurance from Corrigan, and the couple sidled up to the group.

"Another, please, Ryan." Jet sighed, pushing his empty glass across the smooth countertop.

"That'll be your third already, Bianchi." The barkeeper, a decent looking guy nearing middle age, observed cautiously.

"I'll have however many I see fit." Jet grumbled. "What are you, my father?"

"You've been here all of five minutes. You should pace yourself." Ryan replied without missing a beat. "And if I were your father, there's no way in hell I'd let you speak to me that way." He quirked a brow warningly.

Jet's cheeks reddened, more from shame than the heat of the booze burning through his veins. "I apologize. It seems I'm not myself this evening." He inclined his head toward the bar eagerly, perched on the edge of a stool, attempting to make out what was being said. Corrigan was leaning in toward Mer, whispering something in her ear. Pink dotted her cheeks and she giggled.

Ryan followed Jet's stare. "They look good together." He chided. "Don't you think so?"

His eyes twinkled knowingly as Jet replied exactly the way he predicted. "They're not together." Jet rushed out hotly, glaring at Ryan briefly before training his eyes back on his secretary.

"Is that the woman from the other day?" Ryan grinned innocently, knowing he'd struck a nerve. "She's pretty."

"She's mine-my office aid." Jet corrected himself, coughing slightly to mask his slip up, running a finger between his collar and neck nervously.

"Does Corrigan know that?" Ryan's voice tinkled with an amused pitch, as he turned to pour the liquor.

Jet pointedly ignored him, running a hand angrily through his floppy locks.

"Might want to go stake your claim, mate." Ryan lowered his voice, jerking his head meaningfully in Meredith's direction. Several very good looking, accomplished men were crowding around her, watching her with an intensity that Jet didn't care for. "You're about to lose it." Ryan warned, sliding a filled glass toward Jet, who grabbed it with a gruff "Thanks."

The burning liquid flowed down his throat as he tossed it back, not bothering to enjoy the flavor.

"What a waste of my good stash." Ryan chastised as Jet pushed himself off his seat and started toward the couches, where Meredith was perched awkwardly on a cushion.