Page 23 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
I’m forever grateful when Evelyn joins us and takes the remaining empty chair, next to me.
Dorian requests his previously ordered thousand-dollar bottle of bubbly for our table. Selfishly I want it all to myself.
Once he approves the bottle, I’m poured the first glass, and I hand it off to Evelyn. I might not have survived this whole thing without her, even though she’s one of Margaux’s best friends.
Finally I have a flute of my own, and I tip it toward Evelyn. “You’re amazing.”
“You are,” she counters. “If anything like this happened to me, I’d run away screaming.”
I still might.
Rather than saying that aloud, I take a sip.
Secretly she leans even closer to whisper in my ear.
I sense Dorian’s scowl, but right now I don’t care.
“I got a text from Margaux.”
“So did I. Apologizing. She asked me to forgive her but said she couldn’t go through with the marriage.”
“Is that all she said?”
I frown. “What else is there?”
“How’s the champagne?” Dorian asks, interrupting us.
I sigh, trying not to show my annoyance with him. “Very good.” But I’ve grown accustomed to drinking a cheap prosecco I buy in bulk at the grocery store.
He frowns. “Not to your taste?”
“Really. It’s great.”
I know I should engage in the conversation going on around me, but I have no interest in the men and their discussions about the local baseball team, and the bets that Lucian is recommending for the World Series. “Red Sox are solid this year.”
“Of course they are,” Caleb agrees sarcastically as he frowns. “Especially since they stole one of Houston’s best players.”
“I won big on that one.” Lucian lifts a shoulder. “Odds were he was going to New York.”
“They were a long shot.” But there’s respect in his tone, acknowledging Lucian’s solid gamble.
“You’re bitter,” Lucian observes. “You wanted him to stay here.”
Caleb lifts his glass. “Not going to argue with that.”
Since I’ve already checked out from their discussion, I turn back to Evelyn. “You were saying?”
“Margaux found out about…” She glances over at Dorian to be sure he’s not paying attention. When she goes on, she drops her voice. “Him being involved with the mob.”
I cup my hand and raise it to shade my face so that only she can see me. “Are you talking about Dante Moretti? The man sitting directly across from you?”
Blinking wildly, she sinks against the back of her chair. “Are you serious?”
As if sensing our interest, Dante looks in our direction.
“You knew about that?”
“No.” I shake my head. “‘Not until an hour ago.” Had it only been that long? Since I started that trip down the aisle, my entire life has imploded.
