Thetrough?Did they just compare Nico,my Nico,todrinking at a horse trough?
And holy cow, Ihopedthey meant a water trough for horses and not a slop trough forpigs.
No.No-no.I didn’t like this one bit.
I supposed I started glaring at them from around Clementine’s shoulder, and just like high school, I could not keep my big fat mouth shut. “I think that’s unfair to Nicolai, and I don’t like how you’ve been treating him.”
That was the moment a few stray shafts of light from the wall sconces, glowing on the dark marble walls, caught in the massive diamond of my engagement ring and flashed the bathroom with glitteringspangles.
I slapped my hand over my ring, shutting off the light show.
The middle one leaned and glared back at me while I tried not to look like I was cowering behind Clementine. “Is thisher?Is this the tart who finally snagged him?”
Clementine braced her fists on her slim hips like she was protecting me from them.“Thisis LexiRomanov,Nicolai’swife.Hisbride.I’m sure she’d rather not hear about your sexcapades with her husband.”
I dredged up a tight smile and peeked around Clementine while I waved. “Yeah, he married me.Lovely to meet you.”
The three of them stared at me like I was unexpected filth, as if they had searched for something special about me and found nothing.
Poppy asked the room,“Thisis the woman who trapped Nicolai Romanov? This shrimpyautumnwithout a decent purse? What the hell is that handbag, anyway?”
I clutched my white-beaded reception bag. “It’s vintage.”
Fair, though.
Clementine swung her hair around her shoulder again. “Lexi probablytalkedto him. You know, had an actual conversation about topics or current events or feelings, unlike you bitches, and that’s whyshegot the ring.”
The side-eyes they gave each other were appalling.
They hadn’ttalkedto Nico? They’d just shown up and flopped on the bed or something?
Poppy was scowling. “We’re busy people. We don’t have time totalk.”
Charlotte muttered, “He didn’t seem to want to talk.” She frowned like she was analyzing memories. “I guess.”
“But what about the next morning? Or over breakfast?” I asked them. “I mean, there’s a lot of time in there where you weren’t getting laid, right?”
The three of themshuffled their feet again.
Charlotte’s British-accented voice was barely audible over the dance-thumping music from outside the bathroom. “He always met me at my hotel. I never asked where he was staying, but he was gone before breakfast.”
“Sometimes he didn’t even hang around until I fell asleep,” Ottalie said. “But I take a long time to fall asleep.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t like to sleep in the same bed with people,” Charlotte said. “Even Hannalore said that he had a separate bedroom that he slid out of bed and left for. Said that Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip had separate bedrooms, and it seemed like a good idea. I always wondered if he snored or something.”
“No,” I said. “He doesn’t snore.”
Their sharp glare at me was like I’d plopped a Loch Ness monster down in the middle of the public bathroom’s tiled floor.
Yeah, he’d boinked them, but he’d neverslept withthem.
Thisis what he’d had in his life? Hook-ups who behaved like hookers?
Heck, professional sex workers probably had better bedside manner, so to speak.
“Seriously?” The word just shot out of my throat. “You never even cuddled him, or snuggled, or anything?”
Their shoulders fell farther, and they didn’t look at me.
