Arrabella
She flicks a glance at their table. Everyone is busy receiving their food. Perfect. She sidles up to the bar counter and slips between a woman perched on a stool and Avi, who’s standing against the counter.
She doesn’t make eye contact. She leans on the bar counter and summons the barkeep.
“Vesper martini, please.”
The bartender grins. “Shaken, not stirred, I presume?”
She pulls a wry mouth.
He laughs, flirting, as he places a Nick & Nora glass on the counter and reaches for a bottle of Tanqueray No. Ten.
“You’ve got Sipsmith, haven’t you?” she asks lightly.
He arches a brow. Arrabella feels Avi’s body heat. He’s even larger, more intimidating up close. He radiates a silent, dangerous energy. She keeps her banter with the barman flowing to buy a moment to compose herself.
“I like the juniper in Sipsmith,” she says.
The barman replaces the Tanqueray and moves along the shelves to find a Sipsmith V.J.O.P.
Avi edges closer, allowing his arm to brush hers. The contact is electric. Her heart begins to race. She fights to keep her panic down.
Without looking at her, he says, “It’s good to finally meet you in person, Arrabella.” His voice is deep—of course it is. Guttural with the sound of the Middle East, his r’s rolling low in his throat.
The barman sets down her martini with a flourish and a wink.
Arrabella smiles, steals another glance at her table. Shock jolts her—both Patrick and Poppy are looking her way.
“Not now,” she whispers under her breath as she reaches for her drink. “I’m going to leave this bar. You will give me a few seconds. Find me in front of the mural at the elevators.”
The mural lies on the way to the washrooms, which are down the corridor from the elevator bank. If anyone sees her there with Avi, she can claim she was just studying the painting, and so was he, and they struck up a polite conversation.
Before Avi can object, she takes her glass and walks smoothly and determinedly toward the exit, chin high, shoulders back, smiling as she passes diners.
She feels Patrick’s gaze following her. Poppy’s too.
She tells herself Patrick will thank her later. When they have Angus’s fortune. When the two of them are crowned Britain’s next “It” media mogul couple with a fortune in holdings across the globe. Once Lillith is gone.
Perhaps even before—if Arrabella plays her cards right.