to the girl next door. He couldn’t blame Trace; Ember was great.
Not generally a jealous kind of guy, Lucien did envy his friend and the peace he’d found. But it gave him hope that maybe he’d be as lucky one day. Settling down was never something he thought he’d ever want—well, not for a long time anyway—but seeing it firsthand, the happiness and contentment that came from marrying the right person, he was beginning to think he didn’t know shit.
“Makes you jealous, doesn’t it?” Rafe said, which shifted Lucien’s attention across the table. His friend was watching Trace and Ember with a look on his face that he imagined matched his own.
“Yeah.” If you couldn’t be truthful with your friends . . .
The song ended and the two made their way back to the table. Lucien stood for a hug and noticed Trace’s scowl as he did so. To be an ass, Lucien also pressed a kiss on Ember’s lips, which earned him a growl.
“Troublemaker,” she said, but laughter shone out of those big brown eyes.
“Guilty as charged.”
“So how was it? Did you get a fancy award you can display on your desk?” Trace asked before he pulled out the chair next to Ember and folded himself into it.
“It was what I expected.”
“That bad? I’m sorry to hear it.”
“How’s Carlos working out?” Lucien asked, looking to change the subject.
“Good, thanks for the recommendation. It’s nice not being tied to the cooking school twenty-four seven”—Trace looked over at Ember—“so I can spend more time with my wife.”
Lucien didn’t miss the look Ember gave Trace. The fact that he didn’t pull her into a private corner right then proved that Trace had far more willpower than he.
She ran her fingers over the tat on his arm and said, “Sweet talker.”
Trace abruptly stood and pulled her to her feet. “Dance with me, beautiful.”
But they didn’t head in the direction of the dance floor. Lucien grinned to himself and thought maybe he won in the willpower department after all.
“Lucky bastard,” Rafe muttered before he reached for his beer and downed the rest of it. “I need to go. I’ve got to get up early to deliver a few pieces to a client in the morning.”
“I’ll leave with you. I’m beat,” Kyle said.
“I’m going to stay and have another drink.” What Lucien didn’t add was that the idea of going back to his empty apartment was completely unappealing.
“All right, see you later.” Rafe and Kyle disappeared into the mass of bodies.
Lucien signaled for another beer before he leaned back in his chair and idly glanced around. He didn’t miss the looks he was getting from several of the women at the bar, but he was just not interested. It should concern him, his total lack of enthusiasm, but caring was too much effort.
Maybe he needed to find a hobby. Or join a cult. He took a pull from his beer, but it had lost its taste. Jesus, he was in some serious shit when he couldn’t even enjoy a simple fucking beer.
He dropped some money on the table before heading to the bar where he signaled the bartender, Luke.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“If you see Trace and Ember, will you let them know they’re on their own?”
Lucien understood the smile that tugged at Luke’s mouth—eight months married and they were still acting like newlyweds.
“You got it,” Luke said before he moved down the bar to take an order.
Lucien stepped out into the balmy night and hailed a cab. When it stopped in front of his building on the Upper East Side, the doorman greeted him.
“Evening, Mr. Black.”
“Johnny, how are the kids?”
“Good, we have the grandkids for the month, but they’re in camp this week, which gives me and the missus some time to ourselves.”
Lucien grinned because Johnny was pushing seventy and his wife was just behind him in age. The most they were likely to do with time alone was watch Jeopardy while holding hands. He pulled a fifty from his wallet and passed it to Johnny, knowing both Johnny and his wife had a preference for fine Scotch. “To keep from getting parched.”
Johnny didn’t hesitate to take the offered gift. “You are a fine young man.”
Lucien laughed as he made his way up to his apartment. He dropped the keys in the Baccarat dish that one of his girlfriends insisted he had to have. His apartment had become a point of pride for him, especially coming from beginnings like his. The floors were bamboo, the walls