Them is Walt and Dee. I suggested dinner to discuss Walt’s job rather than an in-office interview with HR. Given his past, I thought he’d appreciate not being subjected to the formality.
Walt was the only one invited, but when he asked about Dee, who did end up staying in Viv’s apartment, by the way, Viv told him to bring her. It doesn’t bother me that Dee is joining us, but it bothers Viv. She confessed last night while we were curled up in bed. Her pressed against my chest, my arm around her shoulders. I’m used to her in bed with me, and I’m devising a plan to keep her there longer than a week.
“I’m going to change.” She kisses me again and heads upstairs. She looks amazing, but especially in the outfits Brandy selected for her.
“I’ll join you.” I follow her upstairs and lean against the open double closet doors while she takes off her outfit for the day—a pressed white pair of slacks and a spring-green top. She sweeps aside one hanger then another before holding up a gray dress. When she reaches for a pair of bone-colored high heels, she sends me a derisive look.
It’s for show.
I’ve received few complaints since the first night she entered my closet and found a dozen outfits and as many pairs of shoes lining “her” side. But those complaints were followed by sex in this very closet. I’m fairly sure I’m forgiven.
“Spoiled,” she mumbles as she slips the dress over her head.
“I hope so.” I zip the back of her dress, kissing a line up her spine as I do.
“I never wanted it back, you know.” She turns to confront me. Which makes me want her again. I consider unzipping her and kissing a few more places. “This lifestyle,” she specifies. “It’s ridiculous. Who lives like this?”
“You. Me. About a million other people.” I pull her into the circle of my arms. “Stop worrying how you’ll live without it and enjoy it while it’s here.”
“That’s not what I’m afraid of.”
I want to ask what she is afraid of, but that’s a question for tonight when we’re in bed, not twenty minutes before company arrives.
Downstairs, Odessa removes her apron and hangs it on the inside of the pantry door. The table is set in the dining room, the candles lit, a flower arrangement in the center. “Anything else, Mr. Owen?”
“No, thank you.”
She tells us goodbye and exits the house.
Viv turns toward me. “You’re the only rich guy I know who doesn’t want his chef to serve the meal.”
“I’m capable of serving myself and a few friends. I just don’t want to cook it.”
Her smile falls when the doorbell rings. We go to answer it together, a unified front. That’s different, but not uncomfortable. Walt is wearing jeans and a button-down shirt. The creases in the sleeves from where it was folded suggest he bought it recently.
“I borrowed your dress,” Dee says to Vivian.
I can tell by Viv’s tight shoulders she didn’t know Dee was borrowing her dress. It’d piss me off if someone rummaged through my closet to borrow my clothes without permission.
“It’s really pretty.” Dee smooths a hand down the pale blue fabric. The dress is too long on her. She’s a few inches shorter than Viv, and she doesn’t quite fill out the bustline.
“Yes. It’s one of my favorites,” Viv replies carefully.
“What can I pour you to drink? I have wine, beer and—” I offer automatically before remembering they’re in recovery. “Shit.”
“Shit sounds good. I’ll have that,” Walt says with a laugh.
“I love Pepsi,” Dee says.
“I have Coke.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Water is fine.”
“Still or Perrier?” Vivian offers.
“Rich people, am I right? Viv, you fit right in.” Dee laughs. Walt and Viv exchange glances. I wonder if Dee knows she’s about to have dinner with the one and only Walter Steele, Junior.
There’s warm, crusty bread in a basket in the center of the table. I invite Walt and Dee to help themselves while I grab the main course. Vivian offers to fetch the drinks, following me into the kitchen.
“Water for you as well?” She pulls Perrier bottles from the fridge.
“Bourbon, preferably. But I understand if that’s an issue around Walt.”
“I have wine in my apartment and it didn’t bother him. But Dee…” Vivian lowers her voice.
“You sound unsure.”
“I have to look out for my brother. He hasn’t been great at looking after himself.”
“We’ll check for missing silverware after they leave.” I kiss her forehead and smile. I don’t miss the eye roll she gives me as I bypass her to serve our guests.
Vivian
I don’t mind that Dee borrowed my dress. Okay, I do, but I wish she would have asked. I would have let her borrow it if she’d asked. She didn’t though, just like she didn’t ask if she could move into my apartment with Walt and eat the groceries I paid for, and that’s the problem. She’s as entitled as if she’s an extension of Walt, but she’s not. She’s an interloper.
“How goes the job search?” Nate asks, his eyes shifting from Walt to Dee. She looks at Walt expectantly.
“Not great.” Walt tears a piece of bread off and butters it generously. “I used to work in an office and now it’s the last place I want to be.”
“You did?” Dee asks, which makes me wonder what the hell they talk about all the time.
“Sort of,” I answer for Walt. He frowns. “He worked for our family’s company part-time.”
“I’d rather work outside.” My brother gives me the stink-eye.
“I have an opening at Owen Construction if you’re interested,” Nate says. Walt’s eyes go wide with interest. “It’s a starting position with a decent salary. Travel is required, but the company will reimburse you. You’d be based outside of Chicago.”
“Back home,” my brother says, and the longing in his voice breaks my heart. I know he misses our old life. Our family. He has better memories of it, probably because that office job he alluded to was really, really part-time. Plus, whenever he returned from a stint in rehab, he was treated like the prodigal son come home.
“You’d be required to have a sponsor and attend AA meetings regularly. I’d need proof. And weekly check-ins with the project manager. Drug screenings too.”
Walt’s gaze shifts to mine. “What is this?”
“An offer. You haven’t found a better one.”
“I’m not a criminal, Viv.”
“You are,” Nate says. “You have been caught with illegal narcotics repeatedly. Why do you think a company won’t take a chance on you?”
“And, what, you are because Viv begged?”
I open my mouth to argue, but Nate is faster than me.
“This was my idea. I had junkie parents and a criminal record. I had the opportunity to have a new life, a fresh start.”
“By being adopted by billionaires. That’s lucky.”
“You were born into a billionaire family. That’s lucky too,” Nate counters.