Page 2 of The Refiner

“Freaking finally!” Spotting a server, I locate the last glass of bitter champagne atop his tray. “Oh my gosh, you’ve saved a life, good sir.”

The server lets his chuckle slip, and my faith is renewed that non-stuffy people still exist in this artificial world.

“I’m serious; I was about to smother—” A figure steps out of the corner, a lit cigar in his hand, causing the air to grow thick with his scent of spice and chicory. He snags the glass from the tray—the same glass I was just about to down. “Uh, excuse you. That was my drink.”

The man lifts his head, and I take an immediate step back. His mouth is set in a grim line, his piercing blue eyes nearly swallowing the pupils as he blinks slowly. “I’m sure this gentleman will be happy to bring you another.” His words sound like a sweet threat.

And that’s where I get a little silly. “Of course,” I scoff. “How dare I take a drink meant for the weirdo lurking in the corner like a wraith. Wait, let me guess, not a wraith, but a pompous ass doctor.” I point at his fancy suit. “A surgeon, to be exact.”

The guy smirks, utterly unfazed by my outburst, and sets his cigar down on the server tray. “Cute. Who are you here with? I don’t recognize you.”

He pulls a flask from his inner pocket and chugs it while holding the glass of champagne captive in his free hand. What in the total hell? That’s it! I’m so done with men like this. “If you had a flask all along, why did you need the last glass of shitty alcohol?”

The man pockets his flask and directs his attention to the champagne, swirling the liquid around in the glass like it’s a fine wine. I would be mesmerized by the motion if he didn’t then put the glass to his lips and tip it back until he drained the contents.

“You’re unbelievable. You could have saved the crappy alcohol for the people who needed it.”

He hisses through his teeth like downing all the liquid at once burned. I hope it did. Dick.

“How do you know I didn’t need it?” He picks up his cigar off the tray, putting it to his lips and inhaling.

Gah, he’s an idiot too.

I put a hand on my hip, noting his eyes tracking the bracelets jingling at my wrist. “Uh, because. You. Have. A. Flask.”

I’ve always wondered how some people became doctors. This one confirms that a pretty face can score you an A, just like a night of studying can.

“I’m almost out,” he argues, like that justifies him takingmyglass.

“Almostis not empty… yet.” Just like my handalmostreached out and choked him with his fancy tie. “There is a difference.”

The server turns to the pain in my ass. “I’ll get you another, Dr. Potter.”

“Astor,” he corrects him with a tip of his chin.

“Yes, sir. I’ll get you another, Dr. Astor.”

“Cute.” I roll my eyes, watching the server scamper away without his pride. “I bet that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy, scaring the wait staff like that.”

He cocks a brow. “Was he scared? Scared would mean he feared me. I believe Matt, ‘the wait staff’ as you call him, is dedicated to his profession. He’s making sure the guests aren’t without a drink. Even rude guests such as yourself.”

Oh no, he didn’t. “Just like a man! You’re making me the asshole in this situation.” I scoff. “I should have known better than to think—”

“Astor.” My sister’s voice stops me. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Oh. My. Goodness.

I turn and watch my sister make a b-line to this dick. Immediately, a smile pops on his face, and he drops his cigar into the empty champagne flute and shoves it at me, opening his arms wide to welcome my sister, who makes this silly squeal before burying her face in his neck. The asshole has the nerve to pull in a deep breath like my sister’s mere presence calms him.

“I’m so glad you decided to come,” she tells him, rubbing his back like he’s some kid. “It’s very admirable and shows a lot of strength.”

Admirable? All he did was walk from the valet to the door. And how much strength can that really take from a man who looks like he spends eight days a week in the gym?

But then it hits me, holding this man’s flute with his discarded cigar. My sister doesn’t just coo and coddle everyone like they are delicate flowers. “Wait a minute?” I direct my question to Piper. “This is the chick we came to hug?”

Piper turns in Astor’s arms and shoots me a scathing look. “I never said we were coming to hug a woman.”

“You said your friend needed your support during this difficult time.”

---