Page 77 of One Wrong Move

He’s trying to connect. And I need to tell him what he wants to hear. That’s the part I’m expected to play, the way I always have.

I give him a sly smile. “I didn’t come with a date today.”

He grins. “Ah, but you might leave with one. Good, good. That is— oh?”

Both Mads and Willard turn to the two women standing beside us. One of them is Harper, and a jolt passes through me at the sight.

She’s looking at me with a smile in her eyes. “Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. I was just wondering if I could steal Nate for a moment?”

“Of course,” Mads says with his own sly look in my direction.

That’s when I notice the brunette standing next to Harper. I clear my throat. “As a matter-of-fact, why don’t you two join us?”

It doesn’t take long to introduce Harper to the two men as my art adviser. Willard’s eyes light up, and he corners her immediately. Leaving me nodding goodbye to a smiling Mads Knudsen and standing next to a very chatty brunette.

Fantastic.

Mads is happy. I’ve been a wingman to Harper in the loosest sense of the word. Everyone must be thrilled.

Everyone but me.

The brunette’s name is Lucy Simmons. She had mentioned to Harper wanting to meet the host of this beautiful party. Apparently, the friend who invited Ms. Simmons here didn’t know who was throwing it, and she’s thrilled to discover it’s me.

Her eyes are fringed with long, artfully curled lashes. She’s pretty. A few years ago, I would have been interested in talking to her, in finding common ground and sharing a few laughs. I wouldn’t have thought twice about asking for her number or inviting her to stay for a nightcap and whatever else might, and often did, follow.

I would have enjoyed Lucy Simmons, and she would have enjoyed me.

But something happened a few years ago that changed the game for me.

Still… this is how Harper decided to play.

There’s a dark and angry part of me, spurred by the fresh drink I’m holding, that wonders if she really cares so little. If she truly wants to see this… Me and this woman she’s picked out for me.

I glance across the backyard. Harper is sitting next to Willard, both of them talking animatedly. She’s holding a glass of champagne nodding.

She must catch me watching because she looks over.

Our gazes collide.

She’s the first to smile. But then Lucy asks me to sit down, and I look away. Refocusing on the woman talking to me.

So I sit down with her. Offer her a drink and ask about her job, her background, her hobbies. She is quick to laugh and is a good storyteller, and I nod along, shifting closer on the lounge seat.

Nursing another Negroni and stealing glances at Harper and Willard.

They seem engrossed in their discussion. She’s pushed her hair back and is nodding vigorously at whatever he’s saying, and when she laughs, I hear it across the backyard. Over the sounds of other people talking and the music playing.

My chest feels tight with something ugly.

Lucy puts a hand on my arm. “How are you liking London?”

And so the night drags on. But I can only make it an hour before the ugly thing inside me needs an escape.

“I have to be honest,” I tell Lucy. Her eyebrows shoot up but she nods. She’s been surprisingly easy to talk to. “My friend, Harper, introduced us in the hopes of playing a matchmaker.”

Lucy smiles. “I figured, yeah.”

“It was nice of her. Problem is, I’m hopelessly in love with her.”

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