Chapter Forty-Five
Elle
Stephen and Boyd came back to the group with drinks and just like I was used to seeing, he joined in effortlessly with the conversation, even if sometimes, when he was just listening, I noticed that preoccupied look creeping over him.
The transition he made to smiling and charming conversationalist should be studied though.
There was barely the span of a heartbeat after he sensed someone’s attention on him, before he rallied and deployed his abundant charm.
He chatted to Keisha about British history and his colleague Patrick, whose wife was expecting, and she gave him details of the hypnotherapist she’d used to help with her anxiety in the latter stages of pregnancy and the labour.
He bonded with Boyd over a love for the sitcom Superstore, since Boyd was a regional manager of a chain store and Stephen had a weekend job in a supermarket as a teenager.
He asked about the places Caitlin had been travelling to and they segued into whether it inspired her writing.
‘So, this is normal behaviour for writers?’ Stephen laughed, after Caitlin explained that she was trying to convince her agent to let her write an MM romance featuring swing dancers, but it was really just an excuse for her to binge watch TikToks about it.
‘I told you, most of us are like this.’ I gave him a faux stern look from across the wooden table.
He was sitting kitty-corner to me, and when he turned his attention my way, folding his arms on the table, broad shoulders hunching, biceps pulling at his shirt, my mind unravelled. ‘And here I thought you were special, Noelle Kingston.’
Alcohol moved my lips before my brain could vet and approve the words. ‘Oh, I’m special in other ways.’
He leaned a couple of inches closer and his voice dropped, along with his eyes as they fastened on my mouth. ‘Of that, I have no doubt.’
Goosebumps prickled from my scalp, down my neck and spine; a cascade of awareness.
‘Don’t look now, Elle,’ Keisha spoke up with obvious reluctance, ‘but Damon is here.’
‘Who?’ I said, still staring back at Stephen.
‘You know. Damon. Your ex-boyfriend. Who you were living with last year.’
Stephen blinked and refocused on Keisha who was on his other side. Free from his hypnotising gaze, I allowed her words to process. In a rare demonstration of obedience, I didn’t want to scan the surroundings for the man who had prompted my current romantic dry spell.
‘He’s at the bar and he’s with a woman.’ She gave me a sympathetic smile.
I took a deep breath and shrugged. ‘It’s fine. I don’t care.’
‘I care,’ Caitlin growled, looking over her shoulder, most likely to shoot death glares at my ex. ‘Want me to talk to the manager? Get him thrown out? They wouldn’t want someone as shitty as him in here. Brings down the tone.’
‘I’m seriously not bothered.’ I twisted the stem of my cocktail glass between my fingers. ‘Let him go live his best life. That’s why he dumped me after all.’ OK, maybe I had a little resentment left over. This wasn’t the kind of surprise I’d been looking forward to the night bringing me.
Stephen straightened in his chair, his height enabling him to look over the top of our heads, to get a better view of the bar. ‘Is he the one with the llama haircut and checked shirt that doesn’t quite fit?’
Caitlin guffawed. ‘That’s him.’
‘And he broke up with you?’ The disbelief in Stephen’s tone did my ego no harm.
‘We just weren’t compatible.’
‘Of course you weren’t compatible. You’re not an asshole,’ Boyd offered.
Stephen relaxed back into his seat, reaching for his glass. ‘Exactly how much of an arsehole are we talking?’
‘Passive aggressive; pretend nice-guy; negged her constantly.’ Caitlin counted his many attributes off on her fingers. ‘Should I go on?’
‘Oh, please do. I’m enjoying it so much.’ I rolled my eyes.
‘Sorry honey.’ To her credit, Keisha did look sorry, but in that this-is-for-your-own-good kind of way. ‘We just…what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh yes, it’s “loathe”. We loathe him and we want revenge on your behalf.’
‘Right.’ Stephen threw back the last of his drink and put his glass down decisively. ‘Tell me his weaknesses. Let’s destroy him.’
A laugh burst out of me. ‘Wow. Finally I’m getting to see the killer instinct from the Wolf of Wall Street, hey? Where have you been hiding this ruthless streak?’
‘I’m only licensed to use it outside of the trading room floor in very, very special circumstances.’
‘Such as?’
He looked up at me from beneath his furrowed brow. ‘Looking after the people I care about.’
Oh.
Oh my.
‘So, what are his pain points?’ he continued, like he hadn’t just rearranged my neural networking patterns.
‘I mean, I’d say, just keep on doing what you’ve been doing,’ Keisha told him. ‘Make him see that someone else appreciates this queen like he was too insecure to.’
My cheeks grew warm. Was she calling Stephen out on how he’d been flirting with me? How I’d been flirting with him too, admittedly. I mean, I was the one who’d instigated it the moment he arrived. But was it just a bit of fun for him, or…?
Part of me wanted to slide under the table, but another part had my heart crashing against my ribs in anticipation of seeing how he’d respond to her observation.
He nodded slowly and then fixed his dark gaze on me. ‘Do you think it’ll drive him insane if I dial it up a notch?’
OK. Wow. He was just acknowledging it. And he was offering to make it even more obvious?
What would dialling it up a notch even entail?
Most of our flirting had been verbal and non-contact body language and I was just barely stopping myself from grabbing him by the collar and dragging him to the nearest dark corner — I couldn’t vouch for what would happen if he did more than that.
And why didn’t the idea of that feel as appealing as I thought it would?
I mean, the thought of getting him closer was temptation personified but…
only if he wanted to do it. I needed him to genuinely desire it, the way I did.
I don’t think I could deal with it if I was melting and he was just participating in a recreational activity to make my ex jealous.
‘I doubt it,’ I managed to say.
‘What if that someone-who-appreciates-you is flashing their cash? He was always such a dickhead about not earning as much money as you,’ Caitlin suggested.
‘I could order a couple of bottles of champagne?’ Stephen offered. ‘We can make a big deal about celebrating your win this week.’
‘You don’t have to spend your money for my petty revenge.’ I shook my head.
‘But this is precisely why I allocate myself a spite budget.’ He dead-panned. ‘I can’t spend it entirely on smear campaigns against David Beckham.’
I snort-laughed. ‘We’re going to have to come back to why you have a vendetta about him later. But no to the champagne and bragging; he’d just feel justified about accusing me of having an overinflated ego.’
Stephen’s hand closed into a fist as he looked back over to the bar again.
‘Can I spill a drink accidentally on purpose on his head?’ Keisha asked.
‘Go for his pants,’ Boyd advised. ‘More embarrassing and harder to fix.’
‘Guys, no. I appreciate the solidarity but I just want to enjoy my evening with you all and ignore him.’ I pressed my palms flat to the wooden table and pushed myself to my feet. ‘I will go freshen up though just so I don’t look all, y’know, drunk and sweaty. If that’s possible.’
‘Want us to come?’ Caitlin offered.
‘No. I’m good.’ I could do with a few minutes to get my head together.