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“So, what, you just left her there?”
I stare at the glass of brandy in my hand, swirling it around, my mind conflicted.
Ian studies me, his red hair tied in a short ponytail at the base of his neck.
I dropped by his house after the argument with Sarah.
“What else could I have done?” I scowl. “She’s right. It’s none of my business.”
Ian snatches the glass of brandy from my hand and throws it down his throat. “Don’t waste that.”
We are sitting in his living room. His house is a huge estate on the outskirts of the city, a sprawling two-story house that Agatha helped design for him. His twin brothers are asleep in rooms that they claimed for themselves.
I pick up a slice of the pizza and bite into it.
Ian leans against the arm of the couch and looks at me. “Look, I don’t know much about this gang. You and Zayn are more in touch with the underground world, considering your career choices. But if this gang is as bad as you say, then your girl shouldn’t be going anywhere near them.”
“She’s not my girl.” I practically inhale the slice and get up to find some non-alcoholic beverage.
“There’s some mango lassi in the fridge. Jake is obsessed with it,” Ian informs me, and then continues, “She sure seems like your girl with the way you won’t shut up about her.”
I glower at him as I take out the faintly yellow drink. “Fuck you.”
My childhood friend leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been at the bar every night for these past five days. You usually put in time at the restaurant as well, but you’ve changed your schedule. And I’m assuming she’s the reason behind it.”
I pour myself a glass of the lassi, not knowing how to respond to that.
“I am looking out for her. She’s like a lamb amongst wolves. You know where the bar’s situated. It has a mixed clientele. We get all kinds.”
Ian doesn’t say anything, his green eyes fixed on me. “So you say. But she stood up to you. That tells me she isn’t some timid little woman who needs your protection.”
I bristle at that, and he scoffs. “You have it bad, my friend. I’ve never seen you like this over a woman.”
I sit down heavily in the armchair across from him. “I barely know her. She thinks I’m some down-on-my-luck bartender.”
Ian winces. “Ouch, that’s going to bite you in the ass later.”
I growl, sarcasm dripping from my tone, “Gee, you think?”
My friend smirks at me, but then his grin fades. “But you are right. She is in serious trouble. What are you going to do?”
I comb my hair with my fingers, a quick, agitated movement. “I have some contacts. I can use them. See what I can find out about Bryan. And if nothing, Zayn always has his fingers in the darkest corners of Chicago. He can probably dig up something.”
Ian shakes his head, amused. “I never will get the fascination you two have with getting your hands dirty.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You know, Zayn with his clubs and acting like a bouncer. And then you, insisting on bartending while having all these fancy-ass restaurants. I mean, come on, you two are dominating the market in this part of the country; do you really need to do all that?”
I sip at my drink and sneer. “Well, we’re men. Unlike you and Philip who probably go to the salon to get your nails done once a week. Pussies.”
Ian raises a brow, not in the least insulted. “I blame it on your abandonment issues.” He shakes his head, sadly. “Probably weren’t loved enough. So, now you have to go out and try to get the approval of strangers.”
“Well, fuck you, too, orphan boy.” I roll my eyes at him, good-naturedly.
All four of us grew up together, having met and befriended each other at the same boarding school. While Philip belongs to an aristocratic background, Zayn and I come from broken families. My uncle took me and my sister in, while Zayn landed a scholarship. Ian was adopted by his foster parents, who adored him and spoiled him.
Ian grins at me. “Hey, at least my parents loved me.”
