Playing Dirty

Thirty Five

The grand ballroom of the Gosling Hotel fairly sparkled from the illuminations of a dozen or more crystal chandeliers, the atmosphere filled with soft chatter and even softer music playing in the background.

Ryan stepped through the wide open double doors, resisting the urge to just turn around and get the hell out of dodge when eyes focused on him.

Some of the assembled guests - the cream of New York high society - recognized him instantly and he could see surprise quickly turn to avid curiosity, no doubt wondering what he was doing here, but too well bred to come right out and ask.

He could damn well ask himself that same question.

Adopting a demeanor meant to discourage anyone crass enough to approach, he ignored the looks and murmurs, instead scanned the room in search of his target. A jolt of anxiety pressed like lead in his stomach when he spotted her, looking coolly elegant in a short turquoise dress that showed off her figure.

She was standing at the far end of the room, unaware of his presence, surrounded by a group of young women, listening and nodding at something a red thin brunette was saying.

Nicola Gosling, in the flesh.

He swallowed, hating how the sight of her pushed his anxiety levels through the roof.

A waiter wandered by with a tray of drinks and Ryan snagged a glass of what could only be champagne, draining the chilled bubbly liquid in a few gulps. He grimaced at the taste, champagne was not his drink of choice, craving something stronger.

He spotted a bar at the opposite end and determinedly made his way towards it.

Nicky could wait. He bloody well wasn't going to talk to her without something to soothe his nerves first, all on top of a particularly shitty week thanks to his dad and his fucking sick games.

"Whisky, neat."

The bartender nodded and turned to fetch the bottle. Ryan slid onto a stool and watched the man set a shot glass in front of him and pour the liquid. He downed it in one gulp, the burn running all the way down to his stomach.

He gestured for another, this time asking for some ice and sat, nursing his drink while his thoughts strayed to Sam.

The past week had been nothing short of torture. It had been a new level of hell to be in the same room as Sam, trying to act normal when all he wanted was to take her in his arms and carry her somewhere private.

"Silverton! Is that really you or have I indulged in too much champagne?"

Ryan looked up from his glass as a tall, sandy haired man in a slim-cut deep purple blazer and tan pants slid onto the empty stool beside him. Shrewd brown eyes studied him intently for several moments then a smile lit up classically good looking features.

"It is you!" Paul Manning shook his head in disbelief. "Wow, talk about an unexpected twist to the evening."

"Manning." Ryan acknowledged the older man with a crisp nod. Paul Manning was a good friend of Nicky's and also a realtor who worked in the same real estate agency. As a couple, Ryan and Nicky had gone on a couple of double dates with Manning and his husband, Rick.

Manning leaned close, curiosity etched on his face.

"You're the last person I expected to see tonight." His gaze travelled to where Nicky stood and back. "Considering the circumstances."