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“Oh fuck me, not everything is about fucking, Christopher!”
Pulling her close beneath one of the mistletoe and holly garlands swooping between the chandeliers, I kiss the tip of her nose. “I would agree, but you told me to fuck you in the same remark.”
“It was a figure of speech,” she growls, grasping my shoulders.
I love the feel of her irate aggression. It makes me want to run circles around her until she’s fuming hot.
“Oh God, incoming!” she sighs, her smile tugging down at the edges.
Turning in the direction she’s looking, I steel myself the moment Charles’ grin greets me, the Chancellor of the Exchequer hot on his heels with his wife. She’s sweet and loves Arabella because of her Spanish roots.
Along the short walk to where we are, Charles picks up one of the Supreme Court judges that wasn’t so keen on having someone so young go for silk. He’s an old boy and enjoys his old-time ideologies.
It’s all politics; not everyone will g
o for you or like you, but all you can do is try to make them see things your way.
He’s one of the few judges I haven’t encountered in the courtroom, but I have seen him at the Law Society events. His wife is loud and enjoys her drink a little too much. Even now she can barely hold herself straight and walk in a straight line in unison.
“Ah, Christopher,” Charles calls when he’s in earshot. “I was wondering where you were tonight.”
Something about the way he’s smiling is all wrong. He’s just short of my height, and his dark hair and light eyes give him a real sinister edge in the blue-and-purple lighting. Like when I was a child and use to hold a torch up to my chin to creep Cassie out. My insides prickle looking at him.
“We’ve been here all night,” Arabella tells him. She seems at ease enough considering how nervous she was earlier, so I take that as good sign and try to relax.
Fucking Leo and his suspicions.
“Yes,” the Judge Coleman’s wife laughs. She’s gregarious and plummy. Her red nails match her pout as she grabs a fresh glass of champagne from a waiter and takes it to her mouth.
“You look so beautiful.” The Chancellor’s wife hugs Arabella, with two soft continental air kisses. “And isn’t this wonderful?”
“It is. Cassie and Rosalind have done an incredible job.”
“Certainly,” the older woman laughs with a low snort. I feel mortified on behalf of Judge Coleman. “Although, they really need to serve something other than cheap champagne.”
It hasn’t stopped her from glugging it down, and I’m about to tell her so when Charles says, “Well, the bar is just over there. I know they have a well-sourced top shelf. They have a great bottle of the 1982 Hine.”
“Oh Charles.” Laughing, she slaps his shoulder. “You do know me so well.”
“You have impeccable taste, Dorothy. A true cognac connoisseur.”
Does he want to kiss her arse any more?
“Well, why don’t we leave the men to their discussions?” Threading her arms through Arabella’s and the Chancellor’s wife’s, she tries to pry them away.
“I’m okay, but thank you.” Arabella smiles, stiffening beside me when Dorothy pulls in her again. “Honestly, I’m fine.”
“I can see you’re fine.” Her undisguised once-over of Arabella makes me want to snatch my wife back and push the old woman away.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Charles chuckles, his words far too forceful.
“We’re not talking official business, Winterbourne. If they want to stay, they can.”
Charles doesn’t seem overly pleased by his colleague’s remark. He’s silent for a while before the old judge says, “I would’ve thought the three of you would like to gossip or powder your noses. The things women do.”
The things women do? Fucking hell, I need to get the fuck out of this conversation.
“Of course, unless…” Dorothy pauses.
