Chapter 5

The next evening, I worked another shift at the club.

Someone's birthday party had taken over the entire top floor. The permanent staff were thrilled. One server had already been tipped enough to cover her rent.

In the restroom, two women were talking by the mirrors.

“Did you see Charlotte Sinclair's ring?”

“I heard her future fiancé bought it. Must have cost a fortune.”

“Well, it is Lucas Whitmore. He's always been generous.”

Water ran over my fingers.

I watched it until one of them asked if I was done with the sink.

When the wine order went upstairs, I volunteered to help carry it.

I stayed at the back of the group, my hair pinned beneath a catering cap. I was wearing a mask for the cold I'd been fighting. In a black uniform, carrying something heavy, I was easy not to see.

I crouched by the drinks cabinet.

Two bottles knocked together.

A shoe nudged my heel.

“Careful. You break one of those, you'll be working it off all year.”

Connor.

I lowered my head and nodded.

Across the room, Lucas looked at me. His gaze caught for a moment, then moved on.

The woman beside him wore a white dress. A diamond flashed whenever she lifted her glass.

Charlotte Sinclair. The sort of woman whose family name made people straighten in their chairs.

“So?” Connor asked Lucas. “How'd the birthday presents go down?”

Lucas looked into his drink.

“She liked them.”

“No tantrum?”

“No.” A pause. “Seemed happy, actually.”

He said it as though he were reporting a suspicious symptom.

Then he added, “Probably an act. She was hinting about some necklace in a jeweler's window afterward. The expensive kind.”

We had stopped at a crossing outside that shop. I'd pointed out how the light caught a pendant.

That was all.

Connor snorted. “Playing the long game. Some of them will put up with anything until they've landed you.”

Lucas said nothing.

“Unless you're the one who's hooked. Come on. She's gorgeous. That sweet little face, looking at you like you hung the moon? I'd have a hard time giving that up.”

Charlotte laughed once, without warmth.

“You don't have to.”

Lucas turned to her. “What?”

“Our families want a merger with wedding photographs. I'm not under any illusions.” She tilted her hand, admiring the ring. “Keep your girlfriend if you want. Give me the appropriate lifestyle and smile for the cameras. I'll manage my own entertainment.”

“Is that your proposal?”

“It's a practical arrangement.” She looked past him at Connor. “Unlike whatever pathetic fraternity challenge this is.”

The laughter thinned.

“If you're going to keep a mistress, at least be generous,” she told Lucas. “Making a woman prove she doesn't want your money every day sounds exhausting.”

“It's not like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

He rotated his glass.

Charlotte leaned back.

“A year, Lucas. Either she's spent a year asking for nothing because she actually likes you, or she's learned not to expect anything from you.”

I stopped arranging the bottles.

“Neither possibility makes you clever.”

Connor started to speak. She cut him off with a look.

“And if these are the men advising you, you really should start paying for better advice.”

Lucas's face was half in shadow.

For the first time that night, he wasn't smiling.

I set down the last bottle and stood. A sharp pain caught low in my abdomen.

I waited for it to pass.

It didn't.