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And then there were the times when only he and Nico took a drink.

Dario was the one to make those never-have-I-ever statements, knowing full well Rocco would have to drink.

But Rocco would bet he hadn’t expected Nico to drink as well.

He knew he hadn’t. Like when Dario had said Never have I ever slept with someone whose name I didn’t know and Never have I ever called a sexual partner by the wrong name when in bed with them .

When this started happening, Rocco began to think that as much as he was enjoying himself and as much as he didn’t want to end the evening, they probably should—and soon.

“My turn.” Celeste shot an evil grin across the table at Rocco. Clearly, she had something in mind that would require him, and him alone, to drink.

“Never have I ever had a black eye.”

He rolled his eyes as he lifted his glass and took a drink. But as he set the glass down, he saw a look of shock on Celeste’s and Dario’s faces. They were staring at Nico.

“Nico!” Celeste exclaimed. “I’m sorry.”

She laughed, but it sounded false. “Don’t be.”

“But if I’d known, I never would have— I only did it to tease Rocco, because, well, he and Dario can tell you the funny story when he got a black eye.”

Nico looked around the table at each of them. She looked okay, but damn if those eyes of hers weren’t dark. Too dark for him to really tell.

“It was an accident—something stupid,” she said. “My fault, actually. Something so dumb, I’m too embarrassed to tell you.”

She placed both hands flat on the table. “My turn to buy the next round.” She stood up and walked over to the bar.

Celeste looked from Dario to Rocco. “Do you believe her?”

“What, that she got a black eye?” Dario asked.

“No, you idiot, that it was no big deal.”

“Okay, but don’t call me an idiot.”

Celeste reached over and placed her hand on Dario’s cheek. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean it.”

All Rocco could think watching them was that it was probably well past the time they should be going home. He glanced over in the direction of the bar.

“She must be telling the truth, right?” Celeste asked. “About it being nothing, just a silly accident. That kind of thing can happen, right?”

When Dario didn’t respond, Celeste looked over at him.

“Rocco? What do you think?”

He didn’t know what to think. “She sounded convincing. I mean, it didn’t seem to bother her. She didn’t have to drink. And if it was s omething bad, she wouldn’t have. No one expected her to. So, given she did, that must mean it was no big deal.”

Lowering her shoulders, Celeste drew in a deep breath and let it out as one long sigh. “You’re right.”

He was glad he’d put Celeste at ease. He just wished he’d been able to do the same for himself.

He glanced back at the bar. He also wished he’d stopped Nico from buying another round. They should call it a night. He had an uncomfortable feeling in his gut that as much as he’d enjoyed the evening, it was about to turn sour.

He was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol, and he could see Dario was too.

Not to mention Celeste. She’d begun to slur her words and giggle uncontrollably every time she hiccupped.

Nico had to be feeling the effects too. She was hardly much bigger than Celeste.

But if she was, she did a damn good job of not letting it show.

“I think we should call it a night,” he said when Nico returned with the drinks.

“But I just bought another round,” she said.

She sounded angry.

He looked at her. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“Me? What about you?”

He shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Well, then why do you want to leave?” She stared hard at him and spoke before he had a chance to answer. “Oh, I know why.”

He frowned. “What?”

She shrugged. “Never mind.”

“No. Why?”

“You want to stop because you don’t like what you heard—I mean, said.”

What in the hell was she getting at?

“You know,” she said, making another attempt, “maybe you didn’t like some of the things that were revealed—about you.”

“Why would that be the case? If anything might put me off, it would be—”

“What?” she asked. “It would be what?”

Even as black as her eyes were, he could tell by looking at them, she was seeing red.

“Um,” Celeste ventured, “maybe—”

“Go ahead,” Rocco said, cutting her off. “But this’ll be the last round.”

There was a moment of silence.

“It’s your turn,” Rocco said, staring at Nico.

It wasn’t in fact her turn, but he felt compelled to hear what she would say.

Someone’s phone rang. He only realized it was Nico’s when she pulled it out of her purse and silenced it without even looking at it.

After she tossed it back in her purse, she stared back at him, and once again he was struck by something familiar about her eyes.

“Never have I ever said I love you to someone and didn’t mean it.”

Not taking his eyes off hers, Rocco picked up his glass and drank.

She blinked, looked away, and took a drink as well.

Why would she say that, knowing she would drink? Did she want him to know that about her?

“Okay,” he heard Celeste say in a bright tone that sounded forced and false. “I’ve got one.” She leaned toward Dario, grinning. “Never have I ever had a spicy dream about someone sitting at this table.”

Celeste lifted her glass and took a drink. When Dario didn’t, she glared at him. “You better …”

Raising his glass, Dario laughed. “You already knew the answer to that one.”

Rocco’s heart was pounding. His fingers were on his glass. Nico’s were on her glass too, he noticed as he glanced over at her. Whatever she was thinking, he knew it couldn’t be the same thing he was.

He was thinking of that dream he’d had of her—more than once. But he wasn’t about to admit to it by taking a drink.

No, for this one, he was going to have to lie.

He flinched as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He knew who it was. He recognized that overly sweet perfume. It was followed by a voice as smooth as single malt, and just like single malt, burned as it went down. Only difference—it didn’t send that warmth flooding through his veins. Not anymore.

“Bottoms up, darling,” Carolyn Wickham said, pulling up a chair and sitting beside him.