“I’m her guardian, yes,” I say.
The woman’s painted eyes widen, an impressive feat considering the weight of the fake eyelashes she’s glued to her lids.
“You didn’t mention you were seeing anyone,” Pearl says, through a labored smile.
“It’s new,” Hadley says. “But when you know you know. Right, babe?” she asks, firing a look at me. I return a smile.
“She showed up at my door to ask me to turn the music down and it was love at first sight,” I say, enjoying the way Hadley stiffens at my subtle barb.
I wanted to murder you at first sight, her eyes say as they bore into me. Her smile is still passable, though, even if it’s as fake as the others around us. I lift the corner of my mouth in a very real smirk, daring her to counter. Maybe this evening will be fun after all.
“I see. So you also live in that building.” She says that building like we set up shop in a 19th century brothel. “How lovely you could join us.” Pearl lifts her hand and motions to a woman hovering nearby. “Miranda, we’ll be needing two more places, please.”
“Julian, nice to meet you,” Remington says, extending his hand. I return a firm shake and look him in the eye. I’m not sure why my girlfriend was dreading this encounter so much, but I want to make it clear I’m not intimidated by them. I don’t miss the way Remington flexes his fingers after I let go.
The pair forces more bright smiles as we stand in awkward silence, and I have to suppress a laugh at how hard they’re trying not to stare at the yellowing bruise around my eye. The scratches on my cheek have faded into thin red streaks of scabs. My lip is mostly healed, at least, so eating won’t hurt as much as it has over the last couple of days. Kinda wish this was a pool party so they could see the swaths of purple and blue still covering my chest.
“And what is it you do?” Remington asks, his eyes flitting to the bruise for a second before focusing back on my irises.
“MMA fighter,” I lie.
“Really?” I can’t tell if his tone is disgust or horror, but I’d take either one.
“No he’s not,” Hadley quips, swatting my arm. I grin over at her, and she narrows her eyes in a quick reprimand. “He’s the bandleader and songwriter for Viv’s new band.”
“A musician?” Pearl asks. And that is definitely disgust.
“My whole life,” I say, icing the cake with a cocky grin. “I used to play with Eastern Crush, but well, you know how that turned out.”
It’s hilarious watching two mannequins try not to puke. Their creepy half-smiles linger on their faces as they turn toward the table and lead us back.
“Hey, dear sister.” A young man pushes up from his chair and pulls Hadley in for a dual cheek-kiss. Hadley mirrors him with natural grace in what must be their normal greeting. This has to be Teodoro. I don’t remember exactly what he does but he’s some big deal in the fashion industry. A designer maybe? Or a model. It’s hard to remember shit you don’t care about.
Next up is the plastic clone of Hadley. Geez, it’s like looking at some weird alternate reality. It’s eerie how they look so alike and so different at the same time. The eye shape is the same, the nose, the lips, everything, except Jasmine Crawford is preened and styled to a flawless forgery of her sister. Where Hadley’s hair hangs in loose natural waves around her shoulders, Jasmine’s is tailored in an intricate up-do that would have required a professional. Her lips are deep red, almost purple, while Hadley has just a hint of shine from clear lip gloss. I know because she touched it up right before we got out of the car.
Watching Hadley apply lip gloss is also Rated R, for the record.
The two women exchange the same cheek-kiss thing but theirs is way more awkward. Jasmine’s gaze crosses to me and immediately changes. Okay, yep. That was weird.
“You brought someone?” she asks, not even looking at Hadley. Her eyes dig into mine, her lips curving up in a flirtatious smile I read immediately. Her smile grows as she skims my body, her attention finally resting back on my face.
She pushes up from the table and holds out her hand. “I’m Jasmine,” she says in a sultry voice.
Hadley visibly bristles when Jasmine pulls me in for the cheek-kiss thing as well. Her fingers sink into my shoulder, massaging lightly as her cheeks brush mine. Waves of expensive fragrances mingle around me, messing with my head as her hand slides down my arm for a firm grip of my bicep as she pulls away. Did I just get caressed by an A-list actress? By the steam emitting from Hadley’s face, I did.
Well, this is interesting.
Jasmine keeps her eyes locked on mine as her smile spreads into something more aggressive. She gives me a knowing look like we just shared a moment. Like there will be plenty more to come and I’ve already agreed to it. Not the first time I’ve gotten unwanted attention from women. It kind of goes with the territory when you throw yourself on a stage to be gawked at, but I’ve never felt like prey as much as I do now.
She’s back to her side of the table, and Hadley practically yanks me down to the place beside her. Naomi sits on my other side, and I realize with a sick feeling that I’m stuck directly across from Hadley’s sister. Am I going to have to deal with those suggestive looks all night? Her eyes flare, and the way she tilts her head sends another hidden message I don’t want.
Yeah… no. This isn’t going to work.
I run my fingers over Hadley’s upper arm, drawing her attention from the conversation with her father on her other side. She turns her head and startles when I peck her on the lips.
Her breath hitches as she searches my eyes, our faces still hovering close. It was supposed to be a simple kiss. Just enough to send a message to her predatory sister to back off. But my gaze drops to her shiny lips, my pulse now hammering in violent surges. I remember the fire of her touch, her scent, the sexy way her eyes narrow and her lips purse when she’s yelling at me.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” I say in a soft voice. I don’t even know if I’m acting right now. Shit, I might not be.
She blushes, glancing away like she doesn’t know how to take my comment either.
“Thanks,” she says. “So do you.”
“Thanks. I wore my new mascara. Glad you noticed.” My grin spreads when she meets my eyes again and finally relaxes.
“You’re ridiculous.” But her fingers start playing with the edge of my sleeve under the table.
We stare down at the scene unfolding in the small space between us. A slow, deliberate trace of my skin along the seam. A slight tug. Soon her fingers are climbing up my arm and curling around my bicep. She latches her other hand around her grip in a possessive gesture I don’t mind one bit. Sparks fire hot and urgent again when she leans forward and brushes her lips against my ear. “Also, I hate that cologne you’re wearing.”
I smile through the agony of her lips on me. Man, I’d do anything to keep them there.
“You hate it? Really…” I say, tossing a skeptical grin. Her body clearly doesn’t hate it. Nothing about the way her fingers are digging into my arm hates it. Her lips definitely don’t hate it when they linger near my neck, her hot breath inviting my imagination to dangerous places.