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“Didn’t realize you made the trip,” Liam says, his blue-eyed gaze never wavering from the man’s face.
“And miss out on playing a few rounds? Can’t let Aiden and Leo have all the fun. You golf, right? We should play tomorrow after the meeting. And who’s this? Someone’s teenage daughter?”
“Baby,” the blond woman interrupts. “I need another Cosmo, and the waitress still hasn’t brought it. Can you do something, Gio?” Her dark eyes look me up and down. She doesn’t smile or greet me.
When I glance down, I spot a huge sapphire cocktail ring on her right hand, but no ring on her left. The man called Gio has a gold-and-diamond wedding band on his left ring finger.
As she slides her arm around Gio possessively, I take a step back. Apparently, she’s his mistress. Because of things in my own past, that hits me like a punch in the stomach.
“Aiden, find our seats,” Liam says, inclining his head toward me.
Aiden takes my arm, and reluctantly, I let him guide me away.
Moving stiffly, I whisper, “Who are those men?”
“Business associates.”
I glance back over my shoulder to find Liam talking with the trio, including the blond woman who smiles at him and laughs at something he says. My stomach knots. Why did Liam have me whisked away before introductions while she stayed to be part of their inner circle?
“Is she a businesswoman?”
“Nah. I think she was a receptionist at a car dealership when Giovanni met her.”
“What does she do now?”
His expression is unreadable. “Couldn’t say.”
I bet you could. Bitter anger sets fire to my insides. I hate when people are like this.
“Here,” Aiden says, motioning to a row of seats right at the front of the balcony. “I’m on the end. You sit to my right.”
I look over my shoulder. Liam is still facing away, but Gio is smiling now and the blond woman has a hand on Liam’s arm. I feel nauseous.
Without a word, I lower myself into my seat and concentrate on the action below. The DJ spins a banging rhythm from the speakers, setting the tempo for the dancers’ shuffling feet and shaking hips. The walls vibrate from the bass. It’s like the music’s a living thing.
“All right, everyone,” the DJ announces. “That’s the end of my set. Please take your seats if you’ve got ‘em. And let’s welcome Silver and Rust to Neptune!”
People on the ground floor applaud wildly as the band takes the stage. They’re a group of twenty-something women in jean shorts and flower-print tops. Their skin is dark and sun-kissed, with a myriad of tattoos and piercings. Their instruments look like they’ve been to battle and wear the scars to prove it.
I squint against the stage lights’ harsh glare until it’s adjusted.
As the band starts to play, my attention is split between them and Liam, who takes a seat next to me. My breath catches as I wait to see if he’ll try to take my hand. He doesn’t. There’s something wrong on his end, too.
Aiden takes a Guinness from a waitress’s tray and hands me a cocktail. The drink on my tongue is a sweet-and-sour mix of cranberry and vodka. The cool condensation of the sweating glass feels good in my hand because I’m flushed with anger and frustration.
The tattoos on Aiden’s fingers catch my attention, as does the scabbed skin over two of his knuckles.
I lean closer to him. “Did you hurt yourself?” Inclining my head to his scuffed hand, I stare at him.
“Nah.”
The scrapes are on the wrong side of his hand for a fall or a work injury.
“Did you hurt someone else?”
He shrugs his eyebrows with a small smile and then takes a swig of his beer. “The way I would put it is that I passed along a message.” He takes another drink as the band starts a 90’s rock review.
“What message?”
