A new drink dangled over Killian’s shoulder.
“Thought you’d gotten lost.” Killian turned toward his other best friend.
Tommy shrugged, an effortlessly charming move that had gotten them out of more scrapes and tight places than Killian could count.
Killian grabbed the crystal tumbler with an eagerness that should probably worry him. Raising it with a nod of thanks, he took a long sip. Smooth fire poured down his throat.
A bit more than half of the golden liquid remained when he finally lowered the glass.
Tommy stared at the tumbler. “That’s no way to treat good liquor. Next round, you can brave the mob at the bar.”
Killian grimaced. Reason enough to savor the rest of this drink. He lowered the glass, dangling it from his fingertips.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Tommy nodded and presented Portia a fresh glass of wine by the stem.
A server appeared, whisking away their empty glasses.
“Why so serious?” Tommy wrapped his arm around Portia’s waist and pulled her close. They were a striking couple. Portia’s floor-length dress was an icy blue, the perfect foil to her glittering diamond and sapphire jewelry. The sleeves were long and the neck was high, but the cut highlighted her figure. With her golden hair pulled into an intricate knot at the back of her head, she was the perfect embodiment of her Ice Queen sobriquet.
Tommy’s tux, while similar to Killian’s own classic black, reflected his playful side. The fine silver threads woven through the black caught the light and sparkled almost as much as her dress.
“Duty calls,” she said, leaning into him, package in one hand, drink in the other.
Watching the easy way they fit together, Killian took another swallow of his drink. He told himself that the sudden burn in his system was the alcohol, not jealousy.
He wasn’t jealous of Tommy and Portia.
They were the perfect couple. And so damn happy together. They didn’t freeze Killian out. Totally the opposite. That almost made it worse.
Sometimes—like tonight—spending time with them nearly killed him.
Tommy plucked the package out of her hand and frowned at the Tremaine stamp on it. “They delivered this here?”
“Yeah.” Portia nodded. “Headquarters wouldn’t send a courier to an event like this if it wasn’t urgent. I should open it. They might need me to go in.”
Tommy frowned.
Killian knew what he was thinking. Portia practically lived and breathed the family business.
As a Tremaine investor, Killian appreciated the hard work she did to improve his bottom line. As a friend—one with more money than he could ever spend—he worried that she was putting herself and her marriage in jeopardy.
Portia and Tommy stared at each other. Tension gathered around them, making Killian twitch. Were they gearing up for a fight? Portia would never air her grievances in public, but Tommy didn’t always have her restraint.
“They’re playing our song, Portia,” Killian said, hoping to distract the couple. Over the chatter of the crowd and the clink of glassware, he caught whispers of a familiar tune.
“Our song” was a revoltingly romantic ballad from Portia and Killian’s one ill-advised date in high school.
“You were such an asshole that night, staring at other girls all evening,” Portia said, her attention finally pulled away from the package.
“You didn’t have to leave me stranded on the dance floor.” The painful embarrassment of that night was a distant memory.
“Yeah, I did. You deserved it,” Portia said, a smile in her voice.
He’d totally deserved it. His fifteen-year-old self hadn’t known how to treat a woman.
“Hey, I thought you were glad he ruined your date. Otherwise you’d never have gone out with me.” Tommy bumped shoulders with Portia. Her glare dissolved into a smile and the tension around them dissipated.
“I’m right here, you guys,” Killian said. Thank god the distraction had worked.
