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I bestow on her a smile even bigger than I gave the guy. "Hi, Clarissa. It'ssonice to see you."
A soft hiss draws itself from between her gritted teeth, and then she turns back to the guy without a word to me.
"Halifax, I'm so sorry to cut our conversation short," she says, her voice genuinely sorry. "Suddenly, I don't feel very well. A bad smell or something is giving me a headache."
Halifax's face instantly shapes itself into concern. "Oh, I'm sorry. Can I take you home?"
"No!" she shouts, a little too loudly, and she flicks her eyes to me as if hoping I didn't notice.
The innocent look I give her in return does nothing to ease her misplaced concern. She doesn't have to worry. I have absolutely no intention of following her back to whatever hellhole she crawled out of.
"I'm sorry, Halifax, I didn't mean to snap." She gives him a small smile. "I just meant I don't live that far from here. I'm just going to walk to get some fresh air," she responds, her voice transformed into a coquettish tone. Whatever she was worried about when she practically screamed at him, it hasn't taken her long to recover from. Or maybe she's just so good at the facade she puts on that it just comes naturally to her now.
But I'm not done with her. I want to see her squirm again, want to twist the knife. I address the young guy, sticking my hand out. "Halifax, is it? It's nice to meet you. Clarissa and I go way back."
He takes my outstretched hand and gives it a shake, a small dent in his forehead as he looks at Clarissa and back at me, seemingly smart enough to pick up that there's something going on between us. "Oh. Yes, I'm Halifax...and you are?"
I keep Halifax's hand gripped in mine. It had long ago become apparent to me that every first impression starts with the handshake, and you won't ever see me pulling away first. It sets the tone for my relationships, personal and business, and has never let me down yet. The light sheen of sweat along Halifax's hairline that wasn't there before tells me it's working on him too. Drawing out my answer to his question doesn't hurt either.
Next to me, I feel Clarissa shift and huff before she says, "His name's Matthias."
"Matthias Baxter," I finish and give his hand one more pump before letting him pull his hand away.
A question flashes across his forehead. I don't have to be a mind reader to know what he's asking. And he confirms it when he shoves his hand into his pocket and asks, "Matthias Baxter? As in Baxter Enterprises?"
"One and the same. Well, one of four Baxters, that is." There's no need to mention the skid mark that is my uncle. Before he can finish the thought on his lips, I cut him off. "Well, Halifax, it was lovely to meet you. And Clarissa... well, it's been the same experience as always."
I turn to leave, catching her narrowed eyes as I go, but a hand on my arm pulls me back.
"Matthias! I didn't see you come!" Leanne greets me, brushing a kiss on my cheek. "Have you got a drink?"
"Just about to grab one, gorgeous," I say, giving her ass a playful squeeze, which makes her squeal and swat at my arm. "I was just saying hello to some of your friends."
Leanne beams and takes a step over to the drinks trolley and pours me a cognac, neat. "Oh yes, Clarissa owns the new whisky bar around the corner from Sushi Nakazawa. It just opened last weekend and is amazing. You should stop over there sometime."
That...was not what I'd been expecting to hear. I was sure they'd met at some private club or another. Somewhere where the greeting of choice was air kisses and comparing Louboutin's new season's shoes. Owner of a whisky club? That was unexpected. Curiosity gets the better of me and I hear myself ask, "What kind of club is it, Rissie?"
"Rissie?!" Leanne catches and roars with laughter, grabbing my arm as she bends over. I grab the glass from her before she spills it. "Where did that come from?"
"Oh, don't you know?" I say to her, "Rissie and I go way back. Actually, she's engaged to my brother."
Leanne stops laughing, her mouth falling open, and both she and Halifax turn toward Clarissa, who looks like she wants to grab the ice bucket and swing it at my head. And keep swinging it. Until I die. "What?! Clarissa, you didn't tell me you're engaged. I thought you were dati—"
Clarissa cuts her off with a hand slash right down the middle of our group. "Was! Iwasengaged to Damie—, to his brother. That's long over.Longover." The restraint in her voice is admirable. Considering how she looks, if the ice bucket thing doesn't work, she might try grabbing the bottles of wine on the trolley and knock my head with them both, one on each side, until my brains come spilling out of my ears. It's exactly the look I want her to have.
Leanne turns back to me, her eyes unreadable. "Well, I guess my plan is both brilliant and stupid then."
That sounds ominous. "What plan? What mischief have you cooked up in your head?"
She chuckles, somewhat nervously, something I've never heard before. "Well, I actually texted you because I thought... you know..." She points at Clarissa and then back at me, her finger swinging back and forth between us.
"What? No!" Clarissa yells, her face mirroring the horror I'm sure is plastered on mine.
"Leanne, sweetheart, that is without a doubt the worst idea you've ever had. Ever. And don't forget you wanted to put one of those rotating beds in my apartment."
Leanne screws up her face and swats me away. "That was ajoke. You and your revolving door and all. Why not have a revolving bed?"
"I... think I'm just going to get another drink," Halifax finally speaks up, and the three of us turn toward him, apparently forgetting he was there.
