Which wasn’t a good thing at all!What was he doing?He needed to get Sami out of his mind and win this case as quickly as the judicial system allowed, and then they could exchange remarks about Ian.
If that meant working all night to make it happen, hell, even through the weekend, that was a price Baz was happy to pay.
Which made Collin stopping by his office sometime later—with his leather jacket over his arm, messenger bag around his body, and a “see you tonight” on his lips—a curveball.
“What?”
“Sullivan’s birthday?You said you were coming.”
Ah.Baz had repressed that happening today.
A party was the last place he wanted to be when there was work to be done.
Well, getting in with the partners was hard work too.And a vital part of the promotion process.He’d be damned if Collin’s schmoozing got him promoted first, so in the spirit of not jeopardizing his career any further…
“Sure.I’ll see you there.”
Breathe.
Baz checked himself in the rearview mirror, fixed the same strand of hair that refused to stay in place for the fifth time.This was a nightmare.People, noise, chaos, and he had to face it all alone.On any other day, he might have managed to convince Aya to come along, but now… Well.He had to toughen up and get through it.
Who knew, maybe he’d run into a friendly face.One with hazel eyes and a scruffy, short beard, wearing that white, lacey shirt he had worn the night at the bar.After all, the legal world was small, and Sullivan’s guest list all but exclusive.Who was to say Sami hadn’t heard about the party and decided to crash it?
Maybe he had connected the dots that Baz would be here and used the opportunity to torture him by flirting in public.They could hide in the bedroom together or lock themselves in the bathroom… The thought had no business producing a smile on Baz’s face.Getting caught with Sami again would be a disaster.All he wanted was to get through the night somewhat unscathed.
With a final deep breath, he climbed out of his car and into the mild April evening.He smoothed the wrinkles out of his burgundy shirt, the same color as the bottle of vintage wine he had picked up for Sullivan on the way.
The bass pulsated onto the empty street.Silhouettes of too many people darkened the windows.Baz’s nails dug into the sweaty palms of his hands.
He didn’t have to stay for long, he reminded himself.Just long enough to make an impression.
If only that made it easier.
The door to the house was unlocked.The ungodly techno music crashed upon him like a collapsing building, and yet it still failed to drown out the yelled conversations of at least a hundred people on the loft-like ground floor.
Was this hell?Did he die, and this was his punishment for lying to Aya?
Ignoring the drumming in his head, he ventured deeper in search of the man of the hour.
The open-plan kitchen was bustling with guests emptying the platters of hors d’oeuvres or standing in line for the staffed cocktail bar.The window front across the living room promised a dimly lit terrace outside—and at least five people on it.Damn it.There was no lack of familiar faces, but a shocking lack of sober ones when it was barely tenpm.
“You made it!”Sullivan’s arm slithered around him, his hand—bear paw, more like—clutched Baz’s shoulder.The stench of beer, sweat, and AXE body spray burned in Baz’s nose.Everything in him screamedrun.
He plastered on a smile.
“Wouldn’t have missed it.Happy birthday.”His throat strained from shouting.He offered the bottle of wine.
“Thanks, dude.I’ll take that, and you’ll take this.”Sullivan pressed his half-empty beer bottle into Baz’s palm.Gross.“Enjoy yourself, all right?Plenty of ladies here who’d love to talk to a handsome guy like yourself.”Sullivan winked.
Baz clung onto his smile like his life depended on it.He had no idea if he succeeded.
Sullivan released him from the prison of his embrace and joined a group of guys—all partners at Dunkeld Wilson, all wasted—without any horribly inconvenient questions likehow are you.
Baz discarded the beer bottle on the hickory shelf he walked past, replaced it with a red cup of soda he’d claim was part vodka before anyone tried to dump more drink remains on him.
Some colleagues nodded in greeting.Baz raised his cup at them, forced his shoulders to move to the beat of the music until their interest had faltered and he could continue his search for a quieter refuge, a safe person, anything.
The DJ announced a new song Baz had never heard of—a wave ofwhooserupted.The bellowing music drowned them out, growing louder and louder.The bass dictated Baz’s heartbeat, pushed tears into his eyes.
