Page 25 of Highball and Chain

Nico climbed out of the backseat. “He has a crush on your friend.”

“We need to talk.” I walked into the house, up the stairs, and down the hall to her room without a backward glance. She’d follow me on her own or I’d toss her over my shoulder and carry her.

“Am I in trouble now?” She closed the door and ran her fingers down my chest. “Will you punish me?”

I removed her hands. We’d kissed a couple of times years before, but that didn’t give her free rein to touch me now. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting like a spoiled brat since you showed up in New Orleans.”

“You treat me like garbage, and then you ask why I’m being a bitch?”

“Brat.” But if the shoe fits… I leaned against the dresser. “How am I treating you like garbage?”

“I’m sick of your family. You always take their side. You’re rude, demanding one minute, ignoring me the next.”

“I do not always take their side, but you’ve made it difficult to take yours.” I folded my arms. “Nico, this isn’t going to work between us.”

“How can it? You refuse to try, and you’ve been falling all over yourself since that American got here.” Her voice quivered.

I knew better than to believe her tears, but I wasn’t in the habit of disrespecting women. Moving behind her, I placed my hands on her shoulders. “Nico, Shanna doesn’t want anything to do with me, but this thing between us, it’s got to—”

“Now you lie to me? Say it again. Lie to my face, you bastard.” She rounded on me.

The woman weighed half as much as I did, but she had the advantage. I’d never strike her, even to protect myself. “I’m not lying.”

“I saw you with her.” Her eyes narrowed. “Your head was between her thighs.”

I took a step back. How the hell does she know that? “What are you talking about?”

“I came to the gala. I wanted to surprise you.” She crumpled onto the bed.

I paced. She sobbed. The story of our relationship.

“How could you?”

If I didn’t know her, I’d think I’d broken her. “Nico, you and I… There’s nothing between us other than friendship. You live in Paris, for fuck’s sake.”

“I came to tell you I was ready for you to propose.” She sat up and wiped her eyes.

Rendered completely speechless, I snapped my mouth shut.

“I forgive you. Ask me now and I will accept.”

My brain skidded to a halt. She’d complained about my mother badgering her into marriage and children, now she wanted me to drop to one knee? “What? No. Think about what you’re saying. What about your job?”

“You can come to Paris. Open a restaurant there.” She stood and slid her arms around my waist. “Or give me a child. I’ll quit and we can live here.”

“I’m not going to propose.” I tried to soften the rejection by tucking her hair behind her ear.

She hit me hard enough I ran my tongue over my teeth to make sure they were still in place.

“Because of the American whore?” She raised her hand, but I caught her wrist.

“This has nothing to do with her. I don’t want to get married. Period.” I moved toward the door.

“You told me you loved me.”

That stopped me cold. She was playing games, but I didn’t understand her objective. Standing with my back to her, I said, “Other than my mother, I’ve never told you or any woman I loved her. You should leave. I will not allow our arguing to spoil my brother’s wedding.”

A vase full of flowers crashed into the wall an inch from my head.

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