Page 169 of The Girlfriend Clause
“What event did you meet at?” Claire’s partner, Ross, leaned forward.
“Comic Con.” Andrea touched me on the arm. “He was there on business, of course. I was just there for fun.”
Bonnie caught my eye briefly.
“And so you still work at the same place?” Claire continued. “How’s that, working alongside each other?”
Bonnie opened her mouth. This was exactly the sort of thread she didn’t want tugged.
“Andrea’s an artist, actually,” she said crisply, like it was a correction. “Her work was exhibited recently.”
“Oh,” Claire said. “Wow.”
Bonnie smiled and looked at me, something in her eye I hadn’t seen before. The subject shifted, and the conversation slid sideways, as intended.
I’d known Andrea liked to paint, but she’d never told me she was good at it. Why? If our paths had crossed without Novexia in the middle, would I have known about that part of her life?
All I had were glimpses, but the more I saw of her, the more I liked.
I knew she was kind, and funny, and brave, and sexy—fuck, this woman was sexy—but I hadn’t realized she was talented too.
I moved the fish around my plate.
I couldn’t think of her that way, given what I was supposed to be focused on. In two days, we’d be back in London, and the deal with Hugo would be done.
What excuse would I have to spend time with her then?
*
“Liam. Oh my God, it’s you.”
The only woman who could show up halfway through the reception of a society wedding, expecting everyone to just be grateful she was there.
Or maybe—notquiteeveryone.
Seeing her again was like a cold draft in a room you’d just warmed up.
Dinner was over. Waiters were clearing plates and refilling glasses. I turned to take Andrea’s hand but she was already heading toward one of the side passages leading out of the old riding hall, presumably looking for the bathrooms.
I called after her, but she didn’t turn.
And thenshewas on me.
Svetlana Belova.
A warning label I’d ignored once already. Her hair was slicked back in a blond ponytail. From across the room, I could see Dex clapping a hand over his face in my direction and wincing through his fingers.
Exactly how I felt.
“I knew I’d see you again in a room like this.” Svetlana leaned in for a kiss, her lips barely touching each cheek. “Looking good, Roth, civvy life agreeing with you?”
The words came out smooth but faintly off-center, her accent still unmistakable beneath the polish.Where was she from again—Slovakia?
“Still upright, Sveta,” I replied. “I’m calling that a win. And you, how are… things?”
I could do without this—where was Andrea, anyway? I needed her on my arm, to feel her warmth against me.
And getting rid of Sveta wouldn’t hurt, either.
