“She’s not been well.”
“Oh, such a shame. Does that mean she’s back at Westchester?”
I shift against the bar. “Why do you ask?”
“Checking she’s not in your Manhattan apartment. Though we can use my place if she is.”
I almost tell her to leave me and justgo. The words are on the tip of my tongue. But that would be career suicide. There’s no way I’d Greenstone done in six months without her, and she knows it.
“Alex, my dear. There you are.”
Maria’s interruption is the perfect excuse, and she’s come to the bar from my left side. I turn toward her, putting my back to Rita, who takes barely amoment to slip herself beneath my arm again.
“Were you looking for me?”
“No, I’ve been quite entertained, thank you.” She signals the bartender and orders a champagne.
“I’m so glad you’re having such a wonderful evening,” I say dryly. Maria’s an interesting character, a good match for DeLuca, and I believe them to be genuinely happy—proof that even twisted souls can find their match. But I suspect the only thing Maria truly enjoys on a night like this is drama. She wants me to ask, of course. “What’s the diversion?”
She meets my gaze with the corner of her mouth curving in smug triumph. “Your delightful choice in women.”
Rita preens beside me, even though Maria hasn’t looked her way.
“Kind of you.” I try and keep it polite, but the ripples of our single kiss are beginning to irritate me. More than beginning.
“Yes, she’s so intriguing,” Maria continues, amusement dancing in her eyes. “A wonderful mind and a delightful conversationist. Winning over so many people.”
Rita stills, or I do. Perhaps both of us. Something’s missing here, and Maria’s playing games. Rita’s been with me all night, and when we spoke to Maria earlier, it was me she focused on. Just as she’s doing now.
For once, I’m not sure what to say. Nothing that comes to mind makes sense.
Maria enjoys my silence. “Truth be told, I wasloath to leave her side, but she’s having a dance. So I thought I’d come and get a drink.” She toasts me with her flute.
“What?” The word slips out, sharp in my confusion.
She can’t possibly be implying what it seems she’s implying.
“So bold of you, Alex, you dog you,” Maria says playfully, reaching out to touch my arm. “Bringingtwoladies to the ball. I can’t help but wonder what Fournier would think, if he knew.”
Vicky. She’s here. She’s fuckinghere.
I need to find her. I set my whisky on the bar and straighten. Rita lets go of me, sensing the danger too. She glances involuntarily about the bar, but I know Vicky’s not in this room.
She’s on the floor. Having adance. Withsomeone else.
She can’t even dance, but that’s not what gets my blood pumping. It’s the thought of another man with his hands on her.
Maria’s watching me, enjoying every moment of my consternation. What role has she had in constructing this moment? But no, she’s not the one to blame. I brought this on myself.
Yet I still have to know one thing.
“How long has she been here?” I ask, keeping it polite and offhand, fighting to keep my tone calm.
Maria takes the time to sip at her champagne, knowing full well the agony raging inside me, and my desire to find my fiancée.
“She did turn up late,” she concedes at last, and relief burns inside my chest like a flame. “Just in time to see your dance,” Maria concludes, twisting the knife. The flame is snuffed out, leaving only something cold and dark.
She saw the kiss. That’s what Maria’s telling me. Vicky saw me kiss Rita.
