Page 31 of Judging Duke

I took hold of his arm before he could walk too far and sat him down at a table next to ours. Marc stood, but I waved him away. I didn’t need his protection or his expertise at this point.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. I couldn’t see anyone with him.

“What do you care?” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass before gulping it down.

Ah, there he was, the arsehole. I knew it wouldn’t last long.

“I don’t particularly,Simon,” I said, emphasising his name.

“Once again, you’ve let him down.”

I looked at him, puzzled. What did he mean?

“Who? Who have I let down?”

“Don’t think I don’t know. You left him for dead. Your best friend, and now you can’t even get back in touch with him when he reaches out to you.”

This was the most he’d said to me in God knows how many years, but I had no idea what he was talking about.

“Who reached out?”

“Robbie,” he shouted, and I once again waved Marc away. I could handle him. Simon had definitely been drinking.

“Keep your voice down.” I sat next to him and edged a little closer. Fuck, he smelt good. I ignored the thought and concentrated on his slurred words.

“He said he’d called you, and you hadn’t answered him back.”

Drunk Simon was like a kitten that needed caring for. I always thought he’d be brash and loud, but the man sitting next to me was meek, almost childlike in his demeanour.

“I haven’t heard from Robbie since the accident.”

“He called you at that fancy spa where you work and said you couldn’t even be bothered to ring him back.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course he’d not get me there.

“I don’t work there anymore, Simon. I left months ago.”

“You did?” His eyes widened, and I almost laughed.

“How much have you had to drink? Are you with anyone?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m all alone.”

Every ounce of confidence I’d ever seen in him had drained away, leaving a shell of a man.

Tear-filled eyes met mine. Something had happened since I last saw him; I was sure of it.

Former Duke—pre-kiss Duke—might have walked away, but something compelled me to stay.

“What’s happened?”

I expected him to say nothing or hesitate before talking to me.

What I didn’t expect was for him to stand, pick up my drink and tip it over my head.

I spluttered, then gasped as the ice-cold sparkling water wet my face and clothes. A slice of lemon clung to the front of my shirt, and an ice cube slithered to the floor.

“What the fuck?” I shouted at his retreating form.

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