“Wolfe,” he follows suit.
“Funny, I don’t remember inviting you to my engagement party,” I say, my gaze heavy on him.
“Funny, I don’t remember Novella being an invite only restaurant,” he jabs back.
“What the hell do you want?” Andrew says. He’s never had the conversational control I do. It works out for him in the ring, but can make public quarrels a bit unhinged if he goes rogue.
“The same thing everyone else wants,” he says. “To congratulate the happy couple. You know, I have to hand it to you, Wolfe. I thought you were bluffing about you and Mila. But I guess I was wrong.”
“Yes, you were,” I say coolly.
“Alright. Well. I can’t wait to see the wedding bells ring. Which, if I had to guess, based on the deadline for Golden Rule, should be fairly soon,” Rafe says before walking away.
I can see the red hot anger coming off of Andrew, so I place a hand over his chest before he can pounce.
“Let it go,” I tell him.
“That was a threat,” he says.
“I know.”
“Didn’t you hear him?” he asks.
“Of course I heard him,” I say, and the two of us walk towards the bar together. “But that doesn’t mean I have to listen to him. You want a drink?”
“You got anything besides cheap champagne?” he quips, and it earns a small smirk from me.
“How about scotch?” I ask.
“That’s more like it,” he says as we take a seat. Once we have the glasses in our hands and the scotch flooding our nerves, Andrew looks over at me, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you didn’t turn him into ground beef right then and there.”
“Yeah, well, I figured it’s not the time or place,” I asked, sucking my teeth.
“He’s challenging you,” Andrew says.
“He’s not going to win,” I say back. “Whether he believes it’s real or not, Mila and I are getting married. It’s all part of the plan.”
“Do you believe it?” Andrew asks, and my brow knits together.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Exactly what I said. Do you believe it’s real or not?” he presses.
“Like I said. Getting married is part of the plan. And it’s kind of hard to do that if you’re not engaged, especially if you want it to be believable,” I say.
“Part of the plan. Right,” he nods, taking another sip of his scotch. I can tell by the way his lips are curling at the corners that he’s not done talking. “Let me ask you this. Was anything else part of the plan?”
“Anything like what?” I ask. “Just what exactly are you implying?”
“The obvious,” he says.
“Which is…?”
“Was falling in love part of the plan?” he asks.
“You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve–” I go off, but Andrew stops me.
“Oh, come on, Dom. It’s all over your face. That wasn’t just a ruse proposal. You couldn’t get enough of the way she was looking at you when you slipped that ring on her finger. And speaking of her face, those weren’t fake tears. That was one of the most touching proposals I’ve ever seen. If you’re actually trying to tell me, her, and even yourself that there are no real feelings involved, then I’m going to suggest you get that stubborn head of yours examined. I think you’ve been clobbered one too many times.”
