Chapter 92

Phil, the bartender at the Gallery Bar, sets two glasses of Scotch in front of Marcus and Nick.

“Anything else, Mr. Steele?”

“No, thanks. We’re okay.”

The bartender hesitates, then nods.

“Well, if you change your mind…” he adds, before walking away to tend to a very lovey-dovey couple at the far end of the long, polished granite bar.

Marcus hides a smile. Phil has served him several times and knows the young man’s simple comment is more than an offer of another drink. It’s a show of support as Marcus navigates the rough seas of the tabloids.

“He your friend?” Nick asks.

“No, but he’s good at his job, discreet, and he knows how to judge people. In the end, he likes me.”

Nick laughs and sips the whiskey. They walked out of the Dermont Tower together, ignoring the calls and questions from the throng of paparazzi now congregating in front of the building. As they went down the slope, questions and camera clicks followed. Marcus felt his ne