Page 39

She stood near the edge of the grand ballroom, a glass of champagne dangling from her fingers. People milled about in clusters, women in shimmering dresses, men in pressed suits.

Nancy was next to her. Ari was doing her best not to sneak looks at her and only somewhat failing. But she had to focus on the reason they were here. She had to remind herself of it because, for one stupid moment back in their room, she had forgotten. Seeing Nancy in that dress, deep red, like a perfectly poured glass of wine, the slit riding just high enough to make Ari’s mouth go dry, had momentarily scrambled her brain. She had recovered quickly, of course. But not quickly enough.

A waiter passed by, and Ari smoothly swapped her half-full champagne glass for a fresh one. If she had to suffer through this, she was at least going to do it with alcohol.

‘You look like you’re thinking too hard,’ a voice said beside her.

Ari turned slightly, already knowing who it was before she even saw the smirk. One of the bride’s cousins, something-something Barclay. He was good-looking in that generic, entitled way, the kind of man who was used to women smiling at him out of obligation.

But he wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to Nancy.

Ari watched as Nancy offered him a polite smile. ‘I think it’s probably the normal amount.’

Undeterred, Barclay continued. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Agamemnon,’ Nancy told him.

Barclay seemed to enjoy that. ‘You should be enjoying yourself, not keeping your distance.’ Nancy arched an eyebrow, and he replied coolly, ‘Come on, give me your name.’

Ari felt a surge of annoyance. She knew Nancy wasn’t truly interested, but watching Barclay lean in and try to charm her stirred something within Ari. She tried to convince herself that it was nothing, that she shouldn’t care when Nancy remained so detached.

‘Leave her alone. She’s my date,’ Ari told him.

He looked at her, surprised. ‘Oh.’ Then he leered. ‘That doesn’t need to be a problem, does it?’

‘It is if I punch you in the face,’ Ari told him. She felt a warning hand on her arm.

‘It’s OK. I can handle him,’ Nancy said.

‘Handle me all you like,’ Barclay said, undeterred.

‘Jesus, have some dignity,’ Ari said to him.

‘She likes me. I can tell,’ he replied.

Ari was now ready to murder. ‘Listen…’

‘Go over there and wait for me,’ Nancy told her.

Ari gave her a questioning look. Nancy nodded. ‘I’ll find you in a sec.’

Ari sighed, shot Barclay one last look, and walked away.

In that quiet moment, she caught herself stealing one last glance back at Nancy, her graceful, cool indifference stirringsomething unexpected inside. It wasn’t just protective anger; it was a quiet, unsettling jealousy.

Thirty-One

Nancy fixed on Barclay, who looked like he thought he was truly about to get laid. ‘I’m sorry. She gets jealous,’ she said apologetically.

‘That’s fine with me,’ he said. ‘Kinda hot, actually.’

‘It shouldn’t be. She stabbed the last guy who hit on me once,’ Nancy told him.

Barclay laughed. ‘No, she didn’t.’

Nancy shrugged. ‘Luckily, she’s rich. So, they paid him off. But he’ll have a limp for a while. Maybe the rest of his life.’

The smile dipped. ‘Stop it.’