Unless she’s really in love with Patrick.
If she is, then she’s doing a really good job at pretending she isn’t. Every time he moves closer to her, she shifts away. Subtly, politely, always under the guise that she’s reaching across the table to grab something, or straightening her clothes, but each and every time, she ends up a few inches further away from him than she was before.
Not a chance in hell she’s interested in this man.
Using him for a green card sounds imminently more believable. The strange part is that somehow, she’s managed to convince him that it’s his idea.
Still the consummate con artist.
For some reason, there’s a swelling of pride in my chest.
Probably because I wouldn’t mind seeing her taking this loser for every dime he has.
Next to me, Leanne twitters, congratulating the couple, but there’s a dangerous edge to her voice. She doesn’t mean a word of it, and if I know anything about my friend, she’s coming up with a way to save her friend from Patrick.
“Matthias? Isn’t it wonderful news?” Her words sound like she’s congratulating them. But I hear
“really? This loser?”
“Sure. Yes, it’s wonderful, the best bloody news I’ve ever heard in my whole damn life.” I reach for my glass, lifting it in a toast before downing the entire contents. I bite back a hiss as it slides down the back of my throat, almost choking me.
In the corner of my eye, I see it’s Clarissa’s turn to stare. But she needs to look away if she doesn’t want to see how I really feel about this news.
Despite everything that our families have been through together, I can’t imagine her father being okay with this shit. What happened to the man who wanted his daughter to marry my brother, and stop at nothing less? He must be throwing a fit. She’s either doing this to piss him off, or he doesn’t know about it yet. Either way, I can’t see her getting out of this without being the target of his considerable ire. Terry Masters didn’t get to where he is by being nice.
“Well, since your wedding is so soon, I won’t have time to get you something really special, Rissie. So, I might as well just ask you, what gift can I give the happy couple?” The words sound sardonic even to me. There’s no way everyone else at the table hasn’t picked up on it. “Anything, anything at all, just name it,” I say, trying to lighten my tone.
Patrick slides to the end of his seat, visibly drooling at my offer. Disgusting. He glances at Clarissa, who gives him a smile that barely reaches the corner of her mouth, let alone her eyes. “Well, that is awfully generous of you, Matthias. Um, if you really mean it, h-how about you gift me just thirty minutes of your time? There’s some business I’d love to talk to you about.”
Clarissa lets out a little choked sound, revealing how she’s utterly embarrassed about her fiance’s behavior. If I had had just a bit more to drink, I would find it hard not to stand up and shout, “Can’t you see what everyone, including your fiancee, thinks about you?” I don’t want to embarrass Clarissa. Although why I even care is a surprise to me.
So, all I say when I finally open my mouth is, “Sure. Call my office and set up a meeting. Sometime early next week. I’m busy later in the week.”
He nods like I’ve offered him the secret to regrowing hair and reaches out to shake my hand. I just pick up the bottle of cognac and hold it out, as if to pour him some more. His excitement wavers for a split nanosecond when I don’t take his hand, but then he holds out his glass. I fill it up all the way to the rim even though it hurts me to do so. Cognac should have room to breathe in the glass. The particles lifting in the glass, mixing with the air and delighting the olfactory nerves as you take a sip.
Not sucking it down like you’re upside down over a keg at a frat party.
Idiot.
He should’ve pulled his hand away, knowing that drinking out of a full glass is as good as drinking champagne through a dissolving paper straw.
Leanne shifts next to me, and I turn to her, the bottle still in my hand. “Can I top you up, Lea?”
“Are you just trying to get me drunk, Mattie?” she says, calling me by the nickname she knows I hate.
“And why would I do that?” I tip the bottle into her glass and, as she should, she pulls her glass back once it’s just a little over an inch full.
“You tell me. Why do you ever get women drunk?” Her eyelids flutter and then we both laughs.
Out of the corner of my eye, Clarissa watches us out of… interest? Morbid curiosity? Whatever it is, it can’t be jealousy.
“I better get back to work,” Clarissa mumbles, jumping to her feet.
Leanne does the same. “Oh, great, walk me to the ladies’ room?”
“Of course.” Clarissa smiles, more warmly than she ever did at Pat. Then, arm in arm, they disappear into the crowd,
Patrick doesn’t even notice. His eyes are trained on one of the cigar girls’ asses so hard, I’m surprised there isn’t a burn hole in the back of her shorts.
“Nice, eh?” he says when he finally turns and sees me watching him.
I fix him with a steely stare. “I assure you; I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.”
An eye roll. “Please, man. You’re no monk and everyone knows it.”
“They do? What do they know, exactly?” I haven’t looked away yet, and it has the desired effect of making him squirm.
“Never mind,” he mutters.
Two hours later, Leanna and I make our way out of the club, her having a little more to drink than usual. She leans against me as I wait for my car to show up.
“Did you have a good night?” she asks, putting one hand on my shoulder as she adjusts her shoes strap.