Page 28 of Without Regret

Tom didn’t waste any time addressing her. “Emma, how nice to see you. New York certainly suits you.”

She fake smiled. “Most of it does. How unexpected to have you join us.”

“Couldn’t miss meeting the newest addition.” He glanced towards me. “Unfortunately, Phillip was tied up tonight, but we have him for the meeting tomorrow and then dinner. In that case, it’ll only be us menfolk.”

If the comment bothered Emma, she didn’t let it show. Instead, she merely sipped her wine. I instantly wondered if he had an issue with women in general or just her.

Tom and Simon ordered their drinks, and then Tom turned towards me. “So, tell me, Trevor, about your experience or lack thereof in acquisitions.”

I raised my brow at his statement but was comfortable enough in my own skin that his passive-aggressive comments didn’t make me feel insecure.

The remainder of the dinner was awkward, for lack of a better word. Simon tried to mitigate and put up a team-like front, but it was clear Tom upset the vibe at the table. His reputation for being an asshole appeared well earned. Nor did I care for the dismissive way he treated the wait staff.

Dinner was almost over when Simon excused himself to take a phone call.

Tom turned on Emma. “So, Emma, you trolling the New York underground tonight for a tattooed-up, pierced degenerate?”

She gritted her teeth. “As always, your interest in my personal life is both inappropriate and disturbing. How’s Marcia, by the way?”

I had no idea who that was, but judging from the vein in his neck starting to pulse, she’d hit a nerve. I got the impression this wasn’t the first time they’d sparred. Her loathing of the man was practically rolling off of her in waves.

He turned towards me with a smirk. “You know, Trevor, Emma once had a man get a tattoo, telling him it would give him a chance with her. Poor schmuck couldn’t get ink fast enough. But then once he showed it to her, she called him pathetic. It was cruel to watch it play out.”

I noticed she didn’t bother to refute anything he said. She simply sipped her wine with a glare of pure murder in her eyes. If she had been about to say something, Simon’s return to the table interrupted her opportunity.

On the way back to the hotel, I was quiet, thinking about the information Tom had provided. It might have been a shitty thing for him to say, but it had answered the question about the type of man Emma found attractive. It had been telling that she hadn’t defended herself or refuted his statement. For the first time, I wondered if perhaps I was better off leaving her alone.

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