Chapter 198
Olivia
“Alex?” she purred, tilting her head as her perfectly glossed lips curved into a smile. “Is that really you? I almost didn’t recognize you in this… quaint little establishment.”
Alexander stiffened, his jaw tightening for a fraction of a second before his polite mask slid into place. He turned to face her, his expression carefully neutral.
“Sophie,” he acknowledged, his tone flat.
“It is you!” She laughed, a tinkling sound that grated on my nerves. “God, how long has it been? Two years? Three?” Her hand landed on his shoulder, fingers trailing down his bicep in a way that was far too familiar. “You look absolutely delicious, as always.”
I felt my spine straighten, my grip tightening on my fork. Who the hell was this woman, and why was she touching my husband like she had every right to?
“It’s been a while,” Alexander replied, pointedly shifting away from her touch. “Sophie, this is Olivia. My wife.”
The word “wife” hung in the air between us like a grenade. Sophie’s eyes widened for a split second before she turned to me. Her smile never wavered, but her eyes were calculating as they swept over me from head to toe.
“Wife?” She let out another laugh, this one with a sharp edge. “Well, isn’t that unexpected. I had no idea you’d finally settled down, Alex.”
“It’s Alexander,” he corrected, his voice cool. “And yes, we got married recently.”
Sophie’s gaze lingered on me, taking in my fish, chips, and half-empty pint of Guinness with barely concealed
amusement.
“How… charming,” she said, though her tone suggested she found it anything but. “It’s lovely to meet you, Olivia. I’m Sophie Hartwell. Alex and I used to know each other quite well.”
The emphasis on “quite well” made her meaning crystal clear. This was an ex. Or at least a former hookup.
“Nice to meet you,” I managed, keeping my voice pleasant despite wanting to dump my beer over her perfectly styled head.
Sophie turned her attention back to Alexander. “So tell me, Alex, what brings you to London? Business or pleasure?” Her hand found his arm again, fingers walking up toward his shoulder. “Or perhaps a bit of both?”
“Alexander,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “And it’s a combination. I had meetings today.”
“Mmm, I remember how seriously you take your work.” Her voice dropped to a sultry purr. “Almost as seriously as you take your… other pursuits.”
I wanted to stab her with my fork.
“Sophie,” Alexander said, his patience clearly wearing thin, “we’re in the middle of dinner.”
“Of course, of course.” She waved a dismissive hand but didn’t move. “I just couldn’t believe it was really you. You look incredible. That suit fits you perfectly. Have you been working out more? Your shoulders look even broader.”
“I work out regularly,” Alexander replied, his tone clipped. “Same as I always have.”
“Well, it’s certainly paying off.” Sophie’s eyes raked over him appreciatively, completely ignoring my presence. “You know, we should catch up properly while you’re in town. Have drinks, reminisce about old times.””
She reached into her designer clutch and pulled out a business card, pressing it into Alexander’s hand. Her fingers lingered against his palm longer than necessary.
“Call me,” she said, her voice dropping to what she probably thought was a seductive whisper. “My number’s on there. I’d love to… reconnect.”
“I’m married,” Alexander said flatly, attempting to hand the card back.
Sophie pushed his hand away with a laugh. “I know, darling. I’m not suggesting anything inappropriate. Just two old friends catching up over cocktails. I’m sure your wife wouldn’t mind.”
Her eyes flicked to me briefly, challenge glinting in their depths.
“Actually,” I cut in, my voice saccharine sweet, “his wife would mind very much. We’re on our honeymoon, you see. Rather busy with newlywed activities.”
Sophie’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “Your honeymoon? In a pub, eating fish and chips?”
“We like to keep things authentic,” I replied, matching her fake smile with one of my own. “Not everything needs to be pretentious and overdone.”
Her
eyes narrowed slightly. “How… refreshing.”
Before Sophie could launch another volley, a tall man in an expensive suit approached our table, looking slightly harassed.
“There you are, darling,” he said to Sophie, his British accent crisp. “I’ve been waiting in the car. You said you’d only be a moment.”
Sophie’s expression shifted, annoyance flashing across her features before she smoothed it away.
“Gerald, perfect timing. This is Alex Carter, an old friend. Alex, this is my husband, Gerald Hartwell.”
My eyebrows shot up. Her husband? She’d been throwing herself at Alexander while her husband waited
outside?
Alexander stood, extending his hand to Gerald with considerably more warmth than he’d shown Sophie.
“Alexander Carter,” he corrected once more, shaking Gerald’s hand. “Nice to meet you. This is my wife, Olivia.”
“Pleasure,” Gerald said, nodding to me before turning back to Sophie. “We really should be going. We have that dinner reservation at eight.”
“Of course,” Sophie said, though her eyes lingered on Alexander. “It was wonderful seeing you, Alex. Do call if you have time.”
She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Alexander’s cheek that he clearly didn’t want, leaving a smudge of lipstick behind. Her perfume was overwhelming, something floral and cloying.
“Goodbye, Sophie,” Alexander said firmly, sitting back down and pointedly turning his attention to his food.
Sophie finally seemed to get the hint. With one last lingering look, she allowed Gerald to guide her away. I watched them go, noting how Gerald’s hand rested protectively on her lower back despite the way she’d just been throwing herself at my husband.
“Well,” I said once they were out of earshot, reaching over to wipe the lipstick from Alexander’s cheek with my napkin, “she seems delightful.”
Alexander had the decency to look embarrassed. “She’s always been… persistent.”
“Persistent?” I raised an eyebrow. “She practically mounted you right here at the table while her husband waited outside.”
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t expect to run into anyone I knew.”
“Old friend?” I asked, my tone making it clear I knew exactly what kind of “friend” Sophie had been.
“We had a brief thing a few years ago. Very brief. One night, actually.”
“Let me guess. Business trip to London, hotel bar, too much whiskey?”
“Something like that.” He looked genuinely uncomfortable now. “It meant nothing. It was nothing.”
“Clearly meant more to her than it did to you,” I observed, taking a long sip of my Guinness. “She was ready to hand you her number right in front of both me and her husband.”
“Some people have no shame,” Alexander muttered, stabbing his fish more forcefully than necessary.
“No kidding.”
The words came out sharper than I intended. I took a long drink of my Guinness, trying to wash down the bitter taste of jealousy that had nothing to do with the beer. The way Sophie had touched him, looked at him, like she had some claim to him just because they’d fucked once years ago. And the lipstick on his cheek marked him like some kind of territory claim right in front of me.
I hated how much it bothered me.