Stefan watched Barrington from thefar end of the bar as the lawyer chatted with his friends.
He had been disappointed when Barrington had left his home accompanied only by his driver, as he’d been hoping Sara would be with him. Thinking that perhaps the lawyer was meeting her somewhere, Stefan had followed him to Clarke’s only to find that instead of Sara, Barrington was joined by the same dark-haired woman Stefan had seen him with last week.
When the two of them kissed, Stefan felt his blood pressure spike. Whether Barrington was two-timing Sara or not, there was something about the guy that got under Stefan’s skin.
“I should have told Gennaro to kill him,” he muttered, then took a sip of his martini.
“What was that?” the woman in the seat next to him asked, interest in her tone.
Though she was a looker, she appeared to be the same age as Stefan, which was way too old for his taste.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he said, returning his attention to Barrington and his side chick, or whoever she was, in time to see them joined by another man.
“I was just trying to make conversation,” the lady said. “You didn’t have to be rude.”
Without looking at her, he said, “Yeah, well, I’m not interested in conversation.”
“Enjoy dying alone, then.”
“What did you just say to—”
The next word died in his mouth as he caught sight ofSara walking into the bar. He started to smile, but his lips froze when he realized she’d arrived with a man. She laughed at something her companion said. When she playfully swiped at the guy’s arm, Stefan had to clench his hands to keep from shaking in rage.
The man couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than Sara and was obviously still wet behind the ears. The exact opposite of the experienced, suave kind of guy she needed and deserved.
Stefan was so wrapped up in his head that he didn’t realize Sara was taking a look around the bar until her eyes fell on him.
Until now, he’d thought Sara noticing him before he was ready to reveal himself would have been the worst thing that could have happened. He’d been wrong. The worst was watching her gaze move right past him without recognition.
His mouth dropped open. How could she have looked directly at him and not recognized him? Granted he’d aged a bit since they’d last seen each other, but in his opinion, not enough to warrant this kind of response.
Someone bumped his arm, splashing some of his martini onto his pants, and pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Hey!” he snapped.
The chatty woman next to him was getting out of her chair. She looked at him blankly. “What?”
“You spilled my drink.”
“I didn’t touch your drink.”
“You little—”
“Sir, I advise you not to finish that sentence,” the bartender said from the other side of the bar. Stefan hadn’t noticed him there. “If you do, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
Stefan’s mouth twisted in indignation as the woman and the bartender stared at him, waiting.
Finally, Stefan said, “Yeah, yeah, okay. I didn’t say nothing.”
He took another sip of his martini and turned his back on them.
“You all right, miss?” the bartender asked.
She tsked. “It would take more than the likes of him to rile me up. But thank you.”
“Glad to hear it. Next time I see you here, first drink’s on me.”
“Now that’s what being a gentleman sounds like,” she said in the same flirty tone she’d used with Stefan at first. “Do you work tomorrow?”
