She released an exaggerated sigh. “Unfortunately not, though I was tempted to sentence the minister of the interior to the guillotine. Rhys talked me out of it.”
She cast a playful glance at her husband, whose muscled, six-foot-five frame made the couch he was sitting on look like a piece of doll furniture.
“Half me talking you out of it, half the fact no one uses guillotines anymore.” Amusement softened his battle-hardened gray eyes.
“I could bring them back. I’m the queen. What I say goes.” Bridget sank back onto the seat next to him with regal haughtiness, though her face glowed with mischief.
A grin split his face. “Of course you can, princess.” He murmured something else too low for me to hear. Whatever it was, it made Bridget’s cheeks flush pink with pleasure.
Jules nudged Josh in the ribs with a dreamy sigh. “Why don’t you call me princess? It’s so cute.”
“Because you’re not a princess. You’re a hellion,” he said, earning himself a deep glare. “And that’s just the way I like it.” He drew her to his chest and planted a dramatic kiss on her lips.
Jules made a half-hearted attempt to push him off, but laughter bubbled from her throat. “Nice save, Chen.”
The lighthearted atmosphere eased my earlier tension as I leaned over to hug Ava.
She was curled up next to Alex, who eyed the other couples’ sweet interactions with distaste while he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders.
“If you want to engage in PDA too, now’s the time,” I joked.
She laughed. “Noted, but we’re good for now.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Alex is allergic to PDA.”
“I am not allergic.” He grimaced when Jules looped her arms around Josh’s neck and said something that made his face soften. “Merely disturbed.”
“Alex has performance anxiety,” Josh said without looking away from Jules. “It’s okay, dude. Happens to the best of us. Maybe you can invest in the development of a pill that’ll help with your problem. It’ll be like Viagra for kissers.”
“If I were to invest in the development of anything, it would be a custom muzzle to keep you quiet.”
A mischievous dimple creased Josh’s cheek. “Alex Volkov spending all that R&D money on me? I’m honored.”
Jules buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
Ava placed her hand on Alex’s arm. “Don’t kill them,” she warned. “We can’t lose a bridesmaid and best man this close to the wedding.”
“The term best man is false advertising.” Alex pinned Josh with a dark glare. “I should swap you out with someone else.”
“You can try, but I’m your only friend, and who can throw a better bachelor party than me? That’s right, no one.” Josh answered his own question. “Besides, I already put down the deposit for the jumbo banana float and custom poker cards. They’re illustrated with a drawing of Ava and a robot in a suit.”
I turned my head away so Alex couldn’t see my smile.
Besides Ava, Josh was the only person who could get away with provoking Alex like that.
Maybe.
“Christian, it’s nice to see you again!” Ava chirped before her fiancé strangled her brother to death in the latter’s living room. “I didn’t realize you were coming.”
They’d met once at Bridget’s wedding, but meeting someone once had never deterred her from treating someone like they were an old friend.
“I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to hang out with Stella’s friends,” Christian said easily.
He rested a hand on my lower back, and I almost stepped away from the sheer heat of him before I remembered we were supposed to be dating.
I’d caved and told my friends they could tell their significant others so everyone here knew we were pretending, even if they didn’t say it.
Still, should I keep up the act for simplicity’s sake or not?
Indecision tightened my muscles.
Christian must’ve picked up on my hesitation because his jaw flexed as his hand lingered for an extra second before he withdrew it.
Relief and disappointment battled for dominance in my chest.
Meanwhile, the room fell silent as six pairs of eyes ping-ponged between us. I wasn’t the only one unsure about how to treat our relationship; I could see the confusion scrawled all over my friends’ faces.
An awkward shadow darkened the room before Jules clapped her hands.
“Since everyone is here, let’s start happy hour! I have a new margarita recipe I’m dying for you guys to try…”
No one questioned her, even though it was barely noon.
Several homemade margaritas and way too many chips later, I found myself on a couch with Ava, Jules, and Bridget while Christian, Alex, Josh, and Rhys sat across from us.
I’d stuck to my two drinks per party rule, but Josh had been so heavy handed with his pour that my head swam like I’d downed half a dozen tequila shots.
“We need a girls’ trip soon.” Bridget leaned her head back and yawned. “Something fun. I’m so tired of diplomatic trips. I fly thousands of miles to smile and shake hands with a bunch of old men. I could do the same thing in Parliament without the jet lag.”
“Yes!” Jules brightened at the prospect of a wild weekend abroad. “Ava, your bachelorette is coming up. Let’s make it big. Let’s make it unforgettable. Let’s make it—”
“Safe and legal,” Ava said firmly. “I don’t need to go to jail again.”
Ava, Jules, and I had gotten arrested during Bridget’s bachelorette after Jules punched some creep in the face for groping Ava. Thankfully, Bridget had left by then, but our stint in a cold Eldorran holding cell wasn’t one of my fondest memories.
“Again?” Bridget’s head popped up. “When were you in jail?”
“Uh…” Ava’s cheeks pinked. “That was a figure of speech?”
We’d never told Bridget what happened because she would freak out. Besides, Alex had bailed us out and taken care of the aftermath—i.e. kept it out of the press—so no harm, no foul.
“You said again.” Suspicion darkened Bridget’s elegant features.
“She’s talking about the time we broke into the clock tower in college and ran into campus security,” Jules interjected. “Anyway, of course the bachelorette will be safe and legal. I like to live life on the edge, but I don’t want Alex to murder me, thank you very much.”
We looked over at Alex, who was listening to Josh detail the thirty-six different uses for a jumbo banana float with a pained expression.
On the other end of the couch, Rhys and Christian were engaged in conversation, their voices too low for me to hear. Rhys was scowling; Christian looked amused.
It should be illegal for that much gorgeousness to occupy such a small space. But while every man was devastating in his own right, my gaze was irresistibly drawn to the lean form lounging closest to the door.
Christian turned his head at the exact moment my attention landed on him. Our gazes locked, and an electric current of something primal singed my blood.
The fogginess clouding my head suddenly had nothing to do with the margaritas.