“I’m his wife.”
The two men before her froze, their eyes scanning her up and down. “You are…?”
“Evelyn Carter. Evelyn, like the scent of sandalwood.”
The air turned thick with tension.
A faint smile touched her lips. “Are spouses not allowed at tonight’s gathering?”
“Oh, no, of course they are.”
“Then I’ll head in.”
The lounge bar buzzed with noise. Alexander Hamilton stood at the center of the crowd, fielding endless greetings. She chose a secluded booth and settled in quietly.
Amid the music, Alexander undid his suit buttons and draped the jacket over his arm. A slender hand suddenly reached out. “Let me take that for you.”
He sidestepped. “No need.”
Annabelle Taylor chuckled. “They won’t go easy on you tonight. Trust me.”
After a pause, he relented and let go.
The expensive suit jacket crumpled in her grip. Suddenly, she tugged at his sleeve. Alexander bent down obligingly as she whispered in his ear. A flicker of amusement crossed his eyes before he gave a slight nod.
“What secrets are you two sharing?”
Annabelle grinned openly. “Listen up, everyone! If anyone dares to get Alexander drunk, you’ll answer to me!”
“Oho, Annie’s protective now?”
A blush crept up her cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
Alexander frowned. “Watch your words. Annabelle is pregnant.”
The group fell silent. Someone quickly smoothed things over. “Alex and Annie have a friendship forged in steel.”
“Exactly! Even if they booked a hotel room, they’d just game all night. Cut the nonsense.”
In the commotion, Annabelle slipped a wine dispenser into Alexander’s hand—its contents already swapped for water. He took it without missing a beat, filling his glass. “A toast to everyone.”
“To youth!”
The reunion reached its nostalgic peak. As the others grew increasingly drunk, Alexander remained sharp. He loosened his collar and rolled up his sleeves, the deep blue armbands accentuating his toned arms. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze was razor-sharp.
Abruptly, his expression darkened. He strode toward a male classmate and kicked his chair. “Put that out.”
The man hastily stubbed out his cigarette. “Sorry, Alex. I forgot.”
“Don’t forget again.”
“Right, right.”
“First time seeing him like this?”
Evelyn looked up. A man with black-framed glasses and a scholarly air had taken the seat opposite her unnoticed.
“And you are?”
“Richard Jackson.”
Recognition dawned. “Big Richard?”
He smiled faintly. “You’ve heard of me?”
“Just now, yes.” She studied him. “Why aren’t you drinking?”
Richard shook his head. “Alexander’s here.”
“So?”
“In college, Annabelle had a thing for me.”
Everything clicked. This was the man her mother-in-law had mentioned.
“You’re Alexander’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“He’s lucky.” Richard swirled his drink. “Back in school, he was untouchable. Every guy looked up to him.”
“Is that so?”
“Girls back then loved the tough types.” He paused. “Except Annabelle.”
“She liked you.”
“Liked me?” He laughed bitterly. “Doubtful.”
“What do you mean?”
As the alcohol took hold, he stared into his glass. “Mrs. Hamilton, tell me—do you really think men and women can be just friends?”
