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Before tears could fall, she strode toward Claire, who was already scurrying to her.
“You don’t know how glad I am that you’re back,” Hartley said, hugging Claire’s petite, curvy figure. “Even if you’re back with your bossy boyfriend.”
“Not a boyfriend anymore,” Claire announced, squeezing her hard, then stepping away and taking her hand.
“Not a boyfriend,” Hartley repeated, letting Claire drag her down a short hall to an elegant sitting room. “You look too happy to be broken up. Although if Eli’s as annoying as his half-brother, I can see why you might be.”
“Eli and Montgomery have gotten a lot closer over the last few weeks,” Claire said, her voice tight. “Drink?”
“I’ve been partial to cosmos lately,” she said, dropping into a carved chair with a firm cushion. “Double cosmos, although I’m thinking of tripling them.”
She watched Claire make the drink, then pour herself a soda. Something flashed when Claire handed her the martini glass. After she took the drink, she grabbed her hand.
“That’s an engagement ring,” she said, looking at the massive solitaire. There, snuggled behind it, almost hiding, was a narrow gold band. “And that…that—”
“We got married,” Claire said, lowering to the love seat across from Hartley. “God, it’s been stressing me out to keep the secret.”
Hartley knew her mouth was gaping, but she couldn’t help it.
None of this should’ve been a surprise. Eli and Claire had been glued to each other almost since they’d arrived at Cavendish. Despite Hartley’s efforts to seduce him, Eli had had his eye set firmly on Claire. It had been a jagged pill to swallow when he’d shot her down, but it was worth it to see Claire find a guy who only had eyes for her. Her asshole father had built some pretty tall walls around her confidence.
“Why keep it a secret?” she asked Claire, taking a swig of her cosmo.
“I wanted to tell you before I told the others,” Claire said, sinking into the loveseat in relief. “I never saw myself in a jet-setting, dangerous life like… Jesus, like something out of a Jack Reacher novel. But I wouldn’t be in it if it wasn’t for you.”
Hartley sipped her drink, her heart sinking a little. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be in danger.”
“If it wasn’t for you, I’d have never met Eli,” Claire said. She held up her hand before Hartley could add another If-I-wasn’t statement. “That’s my bottom line, so stop stewing.”
Hartley tried to smile, for Claire’s sake. Just a few weeks ago, her response would have been a snide remark about marriage. Love and romance and everything associated with it had let her down so badly, she couldn’t resist mocking whenever she saw it.
And she’d seen it a lot.
One by one, her sorority sisters had fallen hard. Abby had married her Prince Zarin, but it had been a business deal. It had shocked her that Abby and Zarin seemed to want to stay married. And in each other’s pockets constantly.
Georgia had fought against falling for her stalker, Stone, but now they were shacked up and flying all over the world. Even film-nerd Becca had found her stealth CIA partner, and they now spent their lives advising on movie sets.
Every day, Hartley had thoroughly expected their relationships to fall apart. Then the women could return to their close sorority bonds, where nothing as unimportant as a man could come between them.
But that wouldn’t happen now. Claire was married. Claire, her rock, her pillar of stability and reason. Now Claire would be all those things for Eli first, and her second, and she wanted to pout like a two year old.
“Congratulations,” she said instead, lifting her glass. She wanted the word to come out celebratory, but instead it sounded defeated.
“Hey,” Claire said, scooting forward to grasp her hand. “It doesn’t mean I’m turning my back on my sisters. Especially not the big boss sister.”
Claire squeezed her hand, and Hartley laughed. At least she’d looked sincere when she said it.
“So, where is the happy husband?” Hartley asked, downing the last of the cosmo and feeling the vodka punch her in the gut. “I suppose I should tell him congratulations, too.”
“He’s up at the manor, talking to Montgomery about next steps and—”
“What?” Hartley demanded, wrenching her hand out of Claire’s and standing up. “What next steps? There are no next steps to be planned without me.”
“Not exactly next steps, just… Eli brought his security team, and now that Montgomery’s called in the police—”
“I heard he called in one cop. One. A detective who had superiors with a connection to Cavendish and would sweep all this under the rug so we could get back to business,” Hartley said, hands on hips. “There shouldn’t be any next steps.”
She knew that was a lie, but she’d planned to talk to the detective herself and get whoever killed the guy caught. Simple and done. Now, as usual, Monty was sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.
