Oliver looked at his friend worriedly. He looked terrible—big circles under his eyes and a slight shadow along his jaw. There was no denying it: something was up. And that something was why his friend had called, asking for company.
Nicolas never called anyone unless things were bad. The last time he'd rung Oliver was when he had no support from his family and had just discovered his wife had cheated on him and needed someone supportive. They were as close as brothers probably would be.
"What happened?" Oliver asked.
"I just need someone to stop me from doing something stupid," Nicolas said, looking around the club. "I need to get drunk."
Oliver raised a brow. Knowing Nicolas, that was all he was going to get—until he was ready to talk. He shrugged. If his friend wanted to marinate his liver tonight, so be it. He'd make sure Nicolas got home.
