His coat was over his arm, and he was wearing one of his most austere suits: charcoal grey over a blue shirt, with a dark tie, very similar, now I thought about it, to the one he’d worn for the interview.
It wasn’t my favourite look for him but it gave him this kind of refined ferocity, all sharp lines and shadows like a thresher shark.
“It seems”—his gaze settled on our empty cocktail glasses—“I’ve missed quite the party.”
“That’s what you get for being late,” I told him at the same time Steve said, “We had one drink.”
God help us, it was going to be a long evening.
Steve slipped away from the breakfast bar and kissed Matthew lightly on the cheek—which I desperately, desperately didn’t want to see. “I’m glad you’re here. Why don’t you take Niel through to the dining room and I’ll se
