What did he care?
“Well, it’s getting late and –” I began to explain.
He interrupted with, “Stay.”
“Pardon?” I asked.
“Stay,” he repeated then a grin spread on his face that I did not like, not that I liked much about Nick, as in nothing. His head turned to Sandrine who he still had pinned to the windows then back to me and in a low voice with unmistakable meaning, he said softly, “The three of us, we’ll have a party.”
I blinked again even as I stiffened and saw Sandrine doing the same.
Then I stated firmly, “No, actually, I need to go home which is where I’m going.” I looked to my friend. “Sandrine?”
She looked miffed, not a little, a lot.
At me.
God, Sandrine.
Then she looked at Nick and announced, “I don’t do three-ways. It’s just me or nothing.”
He looked at me. “You uptight like that?” he asked.
See? Jerk!
“Absolutely,” I answered.
“Shame,” he muttered then, still looking at me, “Though, figure, just you’d be enough.”
Seriously?
“Seriously?” This came sharp and from Sandrine.
Told you Nick was a jerk and something else and whatever that something else was, was not good.
“Right, if that’s the gig then whoever’s stayin’ stays and whoever’s leavin’ leaves,” Nick went on and he did this eyes on Sandrine, who he had pinned to the windows but somehow, and it wasn’t lost on Sandrine or me, he was insinuating it was her he wanted to leave.
God, I hoped this opened her eyes to this dirtbag.
I should have known better. Those eyes came to me and she said, “I’ll text you tomorrow.”
God, somehow, some way I needed to get her to snap out of it. I wished Viv was here with me. She’d lay it out. Then again, she had, more often and with less gentleness than me and Sandrine never listened to her either.
“Sandrine –”
“Anya, honey, I’ll text you tomorrow.”
She was getting impatient. She was also living firm in the mistaken knowledge that her beauty (and she was beautiful), her style (ditto with the style, she had it in spades) and her abilities between the sheets (I had no idea about that one, though, according to her, she was fabulous) would twine Nick Sebring close and he wouldn’t want to break free.
“Sandrine, I’m not comfor –” I started yet again.
“Anya,” she cut me off again. “I’ll… text… you… tomorrow.” Then she gave big eyes to Nick who was looking at me and didn’t notice. These eyes indicated that I was missing the fact she had her golden goose in her snare and I needed to vamoose, and pronto, so she could work her magic.
I didn’t like this. You didn’t leave a man behind but you really didn’t leave a man behind with Nick Sebring.
But other than drag her kicking and screaming out of the apartment, down fifteen floors and into a taxi, I didn’t know what to do.
So I muttered, “Tomorrow.”