5. Claire

CHAPTER 5

CLAIRE

LATER THAT NIGHT – MARCIE’S PARTY

A fter flashing my invite to the bouncers on the front door, I squeezed my way through the crowds and headed for the VIP area where two of the Rominov’s men were standing guard. Vlad, the one I recognised, nodded in acknowledgement, moving aside to let me in.

Marcie was already there, sitting at a table, glass of bubbly in hand, chatting loudly with Gracie, her sister-in-law Sonia Rominov, and Mikhail Rominov’s fiancé Eilidh. All three were in varying stages of pregnancy and holding what looked like soft drinks. Poor them. I smirked. They might not be able to enjoy alcohol tonight, but I sure as hell was going to.

As I approached, Marcie squealed in delight, grabbing me and planting twin cheek air kisses that made me chuckle. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one planning to get tipsy—she was well on her way. It was her birthday, after all, so she had every right to overindulge if she wanted to.

“Happy birthday, birthday girl. Where do you want me to put your gift?” I asked.

“Over beside the bar,” she said, gesturing vaguely.

“Great, I’ll grab myself a drink while I’m at it. Want anything?” I asked, knowing it was probably a dumb question.

“Hell yeah! Hit me up with a double shot of tequila. Actually, just bring the bottle, and we’ll do a round of shots,” she said, flashing a wicked grin.

“You really want to go there this early?” I asked, raising a brow. If Marcie was breaking out the tequila now, something was definitely wrong. Tequila was our go-to when we wanted to get plastered, but it usually meant we were drowning our sorrows. Which could only mean—man trouble. “Don’t you think you should pace yourself a bit?”

“I’ll be fine. Just planning on making the most of my birthday,” she said, taking a sip of champagne.

“Everything alright?” I asked, watching her closely.

“Fine,” she said, nodding and smiling. But the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and the tightness in her expression was impossible to miss.

Most people wouldn’t notice she was faking her enthusiasm, but I did. We’d known each other too long and been through too much for me to miss the signs. She’d been so excited about this party, but something was definitely off. As I turned towards the bar, I spotted the likely cause: Anton DuPont, standing nearby, talking to Vlad.

Damn. What had he done, or more likely not done, now?

Anton was a close friend of the Rominovs, but that’s not how Marcie had met him. About eighteen months ago, she’d had a stalker—someone who met her at an event she’d planned and became dangerously obsessed. Things escalated quickly, to the point where she was terrified to leave her house. Derrick, her assistant, had connections, and he brought in Anton, who’d just opened a security firm. He protected her, the stalker was caught and jailed, and ever since then, Marcie had been head over heels for him. But Anton kept rejecting her. Yet, whenever he was around, he couldn’t stay away.

The mixed signals had been driving Marcie crazy, and I guess tonight was no different. It was time that stopped.

Huffing in annoyance, I was about to go rip him a new one when it hit me—Marcie and I were dealing with the same problem, just from opposite sides. Here she was, obsessing over a guy who wouldn’t get involved, while I was refusing to get involved with a guy who seemed obsessed with me.

Anton had friend-zoned Marcie, just like I’d friend-zoned Luca. Of course, I had my reasons, but I wondered what Anton’s were. Marcie wasn’t a criminal, and she wasn’t someone who played around. What was his deal?

Maybe I should ask him. But as I dropped off Marcie’s gift and headed for the bar, I thought better of it. Interfering in someone else’s life only invited them to interfere in yours, and I didn’t need that. No, whatever was happening between the two, they’d have to figure it out themselves.

Grabbing a bottle of tequila, some salt, lime, and shot glasses, I returned to the table. I might not be willing to get involved, but I’d sure as heck help Marcie through it—line up the shots and hold her hair back when the tequila inevitably came back to haunt her. After all, that’s what best friend’s did.

Several shots later, I felt a pleasant warmth spreading through me. Marcie’s face was brighter now, her smile goofier, her eyes a little unfocused.

A shadow fell over us as we downed another shot, and I looked up to see Anton. He kissed Marcie on the cheek.

“Happy birthday, Marcie. You look beautiful. I hope you like my gift,” he murmured, handing her a small box.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling widely at him.

I missed the rest of their conversation as Gracie turned to let me know she was heading to the bathroom. When I looked back, Anton was turning to leave, Marcie grabbed his arm, asking him to sit with us, but he made some excuse I couldn’t hear and headed off towards the Rominov men.

Marcie watched him go with a sad smile and eyes filled with longing. Yep, we were both hooked on men we couldn’t have—me because I wouldn’t date the guy, and Marcie because he wouldn’t date her. What a pair we were.

“Are you okay, honey?” I asked, my eyes searching her face in concern.

She nodded, huffing heavily, and closed her eyes.

“He’s a bloody fool if he won’t take a chance on a wonderful woman like you,” I said, squeezing Marcie’s hand as I shot daggers into Anton’s retreating back.

Marcie opened her eyes and forced a smile before grabbing the last of our tequila shots, and downing it.

I sighed. Marcie was completely obsessed with Anton, but I wasn’t sure he was worth it. Not the way he’d been acting. It was okay for him not to feel the same way about Marcie as she did about him, but it wasn’t okay for him to keep sending her mixed signals.

“I know he was your hero, Marcie, but to be honest, he’s been acting like an arse since,” I said, unable to keep my thoughts to myself any longer.

“No, he hasn’t; it’s my fault that I can’t get over him. He told me right away that he didn’t want a relationship,” she replied, annoyance evident in her voice.

“It’s not Anton’s fault that I have a massive crush on him.” She sighed, and my heart went out to her.

“You’ve always had a thing for the military type,” I said, trying to lift the mood slightly.

“Hell yeah. Who wouldn’t? All that muscle and danger?” She smiled wickedly and winked. “You have to admit, Anton is gorgeous.”

“Hmm,” I replied. Yes, the guy was good looking, but not my type.

“Oh, I forgot, you prefer the tall, dark, and dangerous type who hides his danger behind a charismatic smile,” she said, smirking and wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“Ha, ha.” I replied, huffing in annoyance at how true that was despite how much I denied it. The mention of Luca had me scanning the room, unable to stop myself from searching for his presence.

“Looking for the man himself?” Marcie said in my ear, startling me and making me nearly jump out of my skin.

“What? No, I was just taking in the atmosphere,” I denied, pursing my lips in displeasure when she grinned knowingly at me.

Turning away from her I continued my perusal of the room, biting back my disappointment at not finding who I was looking for. While I didn’t want to be with the guy, I did love to look at him, and I couldn’t deny the little thrill of pleasure the thought of seeing him again gave me. Though I’d never admit that to anyone. Especially not him.

Where the hell was he? Why wasn’t he here?

A heavy sigh coming from beside me dragged me out of my musings. Glancing at Marcie, I could sense the downward spiral of her own thoughts by the dejected look on her face.

Damn it, this was her night, and I wouldn’t have her depressed. It was her time to celebrate, and that is exactly what we’d do, and damn those men. Squeezing her hand I said, “Let’s get you another drink and mingle a bit. You’re the star of the night!”

We spent the next couple of hours chatting with the other guests. Soon, it was time for the buffet to open. Marcie gave a quick thank-you speech, managing to avoid slurring too much, which was impressive considering how much she’d drunk. To counter the effects, I made her eat some of the buffet.

Stuffing my face with tasty little pastries, I scanned the room for what must have been the thousandth time, searching for Luca. He still hadn’t shown up, and while I should have been over the moon about it—since it made staying away from him easier—I felt sick with disappointment instead.

As my gaze flitted around, searching for him, I noticed Anton’s furtive glances our way. I was pretty sure Marcie wasn’t oblivious to them, either. Why wasn’t he willing to admit his attraction to her? I didn’t get it. Marcie didn’t have the issues that Luca came with; she was a great catch. He really needed to man up. What was stopping him?

Marcie sighed heavily, and I’d had enough.

“We’re off to the loo,” I whispered to Gracie, who was deep in conversation with the others. Grabbing Marcie’s hand, I dragged her with me.

Once inside the VIP bathroom, I turned to her. “What’s going on with you and Anton? Spill!” I wasn’t going to interfere, but she clearly needed to talk.

“Obviously, I told Anton how much I liked him not long after we met, and he said he didn’t want anything more than friendship. Fine, I accepted that—I really did, Claire. But ever since he kissed me on New Year’s Eve, he’s been sending mixed signals. I finally plucked up the courage to ask him out again last week, and he rejected me. Then, at Derrick and Nick’s engagement dinner the other night, he kissed me again—and it was great. We were both panting when he broke it off, but then he mumbled something about it being a mistake and bolted. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough,” she said, her voice trembling on the verge of tears.

“Aw, babe, I’m so sorry!” I said, hugging her tight.

“What’s wrong with me, Claire? Why doesn’t he want me?” Marcie sobbed, and in that moment, I could have throttled Anton with my bare hands.

“Nothing. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, Marcie. This is all on him. You are a strong, independent, successful woman—a great catch. If he’s too blind to see that, then he doesn’t deserve you. Now, dry your eyes and fix your makeup. This is your night, and I refuse to let him ruin it for you!” I said firmly.

She sniffled, nodding as she blew her nose before dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

“Seems we’re both doomed to obsess over guys we can’t have,” I sighed, shifting from foot to foot as my need for relief became urgent.

“Got to pee,” I called, darting into the cubicle.

As we touched up our makeup, I turned to her, determined to lift her spirits.

“It’s your birthday. Screw those guys and their issues. Let’s dance, have some fun, and get absolutely plastered,” I said with a wicked grin.

“Hell yeah!” she replied, grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s go tear this place up!”