“You aren’t really serious about having a legal career, are you?” Marcella sounds dubious. “It just seems so…beneath you.”
Vanessa pins her with a cold glance. “Not everyone aspires to marry money, Marcella.”
The brunette turns red. She starts to open her mouth, but Elizabeth cuts her off. “So. Justin?”
“Tell him I’m at the library,” Vanessa mutters.
“Oh come on.” Irritation apparently forgotten, Marcella wraps her hands around Vanessa’s arm and starts swinging it side to side like a child. “Just an hour, please? You know it’s good to know men like Justin.”
“I thought you liked Ryder.”
“A girl’s gotta have a backup plan.”
Marcella doesn’t seem to notice, but Vanessa looks like she wants to bloody her lips.
“Come on,” Marcella whines. “Let’s go.”
No, don’t go. Stay.
Women always come and go in groups. If Marcella and Vanessa leave, so will Elizabeth.
“Not me,” Elizabeth says. “I’m getting another martini.” She signals me, then points at the empty glass.
Great. The more she drinks, the longer she stays.
“Come on, Elizabeth. Don’t you want to see Justin?”
Say no.
“Why? He’s not my type, and we aren’t that close.”
Yes! The next martini’s on me.
“Fine. But what if Nate’s there?” Marcella says.
Who the hell is Nate? Elizabeth’s crush? The notion that she might be into another guy burns my insides like a dribble of acid.
Damn it. Am I…jealous?
Yes. Yes, I am. I want her to look only at me, reserve her smile only for me.
It’s stupidly primitive—probably totally inappropriate, too—but I don’t give a damn. I feel what I feel.
Elizabeth snorts, then picks up the fresh martini I placed on the counter in front of her. “I’m going to finish my drink, enjoy a lazy evening, and go home. You girls have a wild night with the Sterling boys.”
“No!” Marcella grabs Elizabeth’s arm, almost causing her to spill her drink. “Come with us! You have to!”
Chapter Three
Elizabeth
“I have to?” Marcella can be so annoying. “Says who?”
“Well, everyone! Everyone knows he’s the one for you, and—”
“Not everyone. And don’t make me spill my drink.” I transfer my martini to the other hand and start sipping it. “Nate can be your backup-backup plan.”
If only Nate knew what we’re saying about him. He’d clutch his chest, then collapse dramatically. And then he’d promptly tell Marcella to fuck off.