was also starting to remember exactly how insufferable these social obligations could be—especially with Claudia at my side. My ex had always, always, always been more interested in people seeing her as an aspirational figure than in actually being a good person. It was grating on my nerves.
For example, the way she had started off the evening by bragging to the table about how she’d generously donated her time today to help a nonprofit organization that was “simply helpless” at throwing their own fundraiser. It had my stomach turning from the get-go.
And now, she was basically hanging all over me while she gabbed with Roxana, yet she showed absolutely no interest in talking to me, only in being seen with me. I was her accessory for the evening. Or maybe her pet, given the fact that she couldn’t stop patting and stroking me like one. Typical Claudia behavior.
It was not cool.
I was so glad to be done with her, done with being treated like a prop. Not that I hadn’t done the same to her when we dated. I knew how we’d looked together—we were one of the hot young power couples of Chicago—but like my whole former lifestyle, I was over it. And I was glad I’d only had one drink, hours earlier. Sobriety was really bringing things into sharp focus.
“Claudia,” I said, peeling her hand off my arm to get her attention.
She was giggling away with Roxana, who looked like she was about one Ciroc and tonic away from sliding onto the floor and passing out.
“Claudia,” I said again, firmly enough that she leaned back with an annoyed look.
“What?”
“I need to talk to you. Privately,” I told her.
“Perfect!” she said, brightening. “Let’s take a picture together. We’d get so many likes.”
Just another reminder that the rest of the world was nothing more than a backdrop for her social media accounts. She probably only wanted to post a photo so Emzee would see it.
There was no way I could stand another five minutes with Claudia, let alone the countless minutes it would take her to get a good enough photo. That’s how we’d spent all of our trips. Capturing the best-looking moments for Claudia to flaunt later. They were never planned around what we wanted to see, but where she wanted to be seen.
“I’m not taking a picture with you,” I told her flatly, steering her into a semi-quiet corner near the club’s restrooms.
She pouted. She was still beautiful when she pouted (I had always theorized that it was something she’d perfected by practicing in the mirror), but I was immune to that now.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “Emzee’s not here. You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“Pretend what?”
“That you don’t like this.” She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear as her hand slid up over my chest.
“Claudia, you have to stop flirting with me,” I said, gently pushing her away.
She laughed. “Why? You love it when I’m all over you,” she said. “Especially in public, so everyone can see how good we look together.”
Once upon a time, she would have been correct. This was exactly how we used to act when we were out in public together. I’d liked people knowing that I was fucking someone as beautiful and well regarded as Claudia, and she liked people knowing that she was dating someone as wealthy and well-connected as me. It had been a mutually beneficial arrangement.
Until it wasn’t anymore.
“You and I aren’t together anymore, Claudia,” I chastised her. “I’m a married man. You need to respect that.”
Instead of taking me seriously, she put her hand back on my chest and let out a fake-sounding laugh, waving at Roxana across the club as if the two of us were having some great conversation, not an awkward argument. Typical Claudia. Again.
I pried her hand off me, huffing a sigh of annoyance. “I’m with my wife now. Okay?”
“Are you, really?” She leaned back and narrowed her eyes at me, making true eye contact for the first time since we’d walked through the door of the club. “Because…you aren’t with your wife now. You’re with me.”
And for the first time, I saw exactly what Claudia was seeing.
She was right.
I’d fucked up.
I stood there, surrounded by loud music and overpriced cocktails and people I barely knew anymore—people I didn’t really like, if I was honest—and let the realization sink in.
Claudia had played me.
Or rather, I’d fucking played myself.
Yeah, I had hoped to make Emzee jealous, but maybe I had gone too far.