“He likes the version of me who didn’t disappear for two years after Afghanistan.”
Ben was quiet for a second. “You’re not that guy anymore.”
“No,” said Dex. “Now you stand in art galleries pretending to care about abstract horses.”
Ben looked at me quizzically. “Well, fuck it, Liam. Maybe the RAF… incident… knocked the edge off your terminal playboy image. Lately, at least.”
“True,” added Dex. “Perhaps it’s not a bad thing.” He held up his glass. “To reinvention. May ours only hit the tabloids in good lighting.”
A familiar laugh caught my attention. Hugo, and his wife, Miranda, were weaving effortlessly toward us. His crop of white hair bounced through the crowd like a rabbit’s tail—he was the same as I remembered when Ben and I had stayed with Nick, all easy charm and self-assurance.
“Liam Roth, as I live and breathe. Thought you’d abandoned the old country for good.” He gripped my hand a second longer than necessary. “Glad to see you back on your feet.”
“Hugo.” I shook his hand firmly. “You look disgustingly well.”
He laughed, nodding to Dex and Ben. “Not as well as your companions, I dare say. Hello, Ben. Dennis. Miranda and I were just debating whether you’d all be here tonight.”
Miranda leaned in to kiss my cheek, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “So lovely to see you, Liam, dear. How long are you staying?”
“A month or so,” I replied, offering a polite smile. “Long enough to sort a few things out. And of course, attend important cultural events.”
Hugo chuckled. “Cultural events indeed. Big art fans, are we now, gentlemen?”
Ben grinned. “I’m hoping the plaques will tell me what to think. Failing that, I’ll nod slowly and say ‘interesting.’”
“It’s working for Dex,” I murmured.
The group laughed.
“I heard congratulations are in order,” I said. “Nick is making an honest woman of Juliette?”
Hugo beamed. “Yes, he was ready to settle down, finally. About time.”
“We couldn’t be happier.” Miranda smiled and put a hand gently on my arm. “And you, Liam? Anyone special in your life?”
“I—”
Ben gave me a look that said,don’t blowit.
“Yes, I’ve… ah… been—” The words wouldn’t come. For some idiotic reason, I hadn’t prepared an answer to this most basic of questions. What could I say? I’d been so shaken by Afghanistan I hadn’t dated seriously since I left the Air Force? That I’d had a string of meaningless liaisons, and that letting anyone get close to me now—at least, emotionally—made my blood run cold?
“Let’s just say, Liam’s been keeping his cards close to hischest lately.” Dex smirked like there was something interesting behind his suggestion. I made a mental note to buy him whatever pretentious piece of art he wanted tonight.
“I see.” Hugo’s eyes lingered on me thoughtfully. Was that a hint of disappointment I saw in his face? “Well, discretion is the better part of valor, as they say. And how are you doing since—” His hesitation hung in the air, and he examined my eyes. “Since the… difficulties?”
People never knew what to say, and I never knew how to reply.
“I heard you were back on your feet,” Hugo continued carefully. “Miranda and I were… well, we were concerned when we saw those photos from Ibiza last summer. That sort of behavior—” He stopped himself. “It didn’t seem like you, Liam.”
Ah. There it was. The real question: was I solid enough to do business with, or still the traumatized veteran making headlines for the wrong reasons?
“So you’re doing well, Liam?” asked Miranda. “Business keeping you… out of trouble?”
I nodded. “Business… yes.” Fuck, Hugo’s comment about “the difficulties” had thrown me. I breathed in.
“Liam’s been busy with Novexia,” said Dex, after a beat. Jesus. It was a sorry state of affairs when my wingman was working a politician for me and not a hot blonde. I needed to get my act together fast, or Bonnie would gild my bollocks and hang them off the strap of her handbag. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
“So I heard.” Hugo nodded. I didn’t miss the trace of skepticism in his tone. “Quite the change for you, Liam. Pharmaceuticals, now?”
