I roll my eyes and let the conversation die as we stop at the end of the bar.
“I’ll take a Gale Brasileiro, and she’ll have a glass of Prosecco,” he orders without looking at the bartender and sets the old flutes on the counter.
“Really did your digging, huh?” I mumble after I hear him order my preferred drink.
“You already know I did,” he replies with a wink.
The bartender sets our order in front of us, Easton’s in a whiskey tumbler and mine in a wine glass. I wrap my fingers around the frosted glass, desperate for another.
“Shouldn’t we be having Fuerte? That is why you dragged me here tonight. To celebrate.”
He scoffs with a smirk, and for whatever reason, the sound sends flutters across my skin. He always seems so serious. A smile looks good on him, regardless of how small a grin it is.
“That’s my brother’s thing. And whiskey isn’t your style—research remember.” He tilts his head to the side before taking a sip.
“Jude?”
He questions me with his eyes.
“This is his party?” I ask while waving my arms around.
Easton steps closer to me and with the hand that houses his drink, he points to the man from the stage. “No, not Jude. His name’s Emilio, one of my other brothers.” He nods to the man onstage.
“Is he a dick like Jude?”
He laughs, and I use my drink to hide the grin that wants to creep on my face in response.
“We all are, sweetheart.”
A loud thump pours from the speakers, and I turn my head toward the stage again. Music starts to play, a low sultry melody filling my ears as the musician prepares for his set.
I’m too far away to be sure, but the musician is tall, probably a little over six feet. He’s dressed in a deep-red suit with a matching tie and a black shirt. I only notice because it pops against his light-brown skin.
He smiles at the crowd, seating himself behind a grand piano while adjusting his mic. “How’s everybody doing tonight?” He pauses for our response then continues. “I’m Leaon, and I’ll be serenading you this evening. But first, let’s give a quick clap to celebrate my brother on this accomplishment.”
I stare at him then at Easton, checking for a resemblance as everyone else does as he suggests. Curiosity floods me because they look nothing alike; come to think of it, none of them do. Not Easton, Jude, Emilio, and this guy. I find myself wondering if they’re related at all, or some super-deep bond between friends.
Easton drops his gaze to mine, catching the questions written in the lines of my face. Soon the cheers are stifled by the sound coming from the piano. I recognize the song; though slightly different, I’d spot Luther Vandross’s hits anywhere.
Knowing Easton won’t answer me, I focus my attention back on the stage. But almost as if he reads my mind, he leans in to whisper in my ear.
“I see your mind working again, amore.” His breath teases at the space behind my ear.
Shyly, I fix my head in his direction, but I don’t peer up at him. He’s on my left and he’s close to me, one half of his front pressed into my back.
“How come you all look so different?” I mutter, but it seems he hears me anyway.
Leaning in again, he presses his mouth to my ear, kissing me there before letting out another breath. “Our father adopted us, so we’re a pretty diverse bunch. Emilio’s mother was Hispanic, Leaon is biracial—African-American.”
“How many of you are there?”
I feel him smile against the side of my face.
“Eight.”
I dart my gaze up at him. “And—” I swallow, not sure if I want to ask my next question. It hangs in the balance, but a part of me knows I don’t need this information, yet still, I’m curious. “Are you all—” I pause again.
“Criminals,” he finishes my statement. “We’re—dedicated businessmen.”
“So the other day, with Iman—” I point my eyes toward the man I was sure he killed. “That was business, about tonight?”
He huffs and straightens his spine, and right away I miss the closeness. “That’s enough. I didn’t bring you here for an interrogation.”
“Then why did you bring me?” I ask, ignoring what he’s just said to me.
I go unanswered, my attention being pulled back to the front of the room. Leaon opens the song with nothing but his vocals and the piano, singing the chorus beautifully.
Then the band joins in for the first verse of If Only for One Night. Naturally, I sway to the music, losing myself in his voice. Like the rest of the room, I’m transfixed on the stage, appreciating the talent.
Easton steps closer to me, and my breath catches from the weight of the lyrics and his presence against me. The air around me thickens, filled with a mixture of emotions. An intensity that steals my breath, or maybe it’s just the song and the sensualness of it. Or it’s my body reacting to the man who’s proven to be bad for me.
“This is why I brought you the dress,” he states firmly.
I frown, his words confusing me and catching me off guard.
He smirks and nods to the right. I follow his line of sight, catching the glimpse of a group of people watching us. No one shies away when they realize they’ve been caught either. A nervous prick creeps across my skin, and I shiver out of reflex.
“You’re gorgeous, and I knew you’d be the subject of envy tonight. Since we arrived, I’ve noticed the stares of half the men here. They want you, but I’m the one who has you.”
His words shoot through me, and my skin grows warm. I turn to keep him from seeing the smile threatening to show. Though, I don’t think it matters much. By the soft chuckle that leaves his lips, I know he notices anyway. But of course he does, it seems he’s aware of everything.
I fix my mouth to say something, anything to give the facade that his charms will not work on me. It’s a lie. Because despite me telling myself that, my body likes having him close, and hearing him say things like that. Movement by the curtains catches my attention. I turn to see a couple disappear behind them, and it piques my curiosity. I wait a moment to see if they reappear, but they never do.
Remembering the drink in my hand, I take a sip and face Easton again. “What’s back there?” I tip my head in the direction of where the couple vanished.
He ignores me with his eyes fixed across the room, not even paying attention to where I’m motioning. “Don’t worry about it right now.” He gulps down his drink then finally faces me. “Stay here, I need to handle something.”
He plants a soft kiss on my cheek then maneuvers through the crowd, stopping next to a woman. As he leans in and greets her with the same soft kiss he left me with, and his hand finds the small of her back, jealousy builds in my chest.
Chapter Seven
Easton
“Easton,” Celeste sings my name, grinning from ear to ear the moment I step in front of her.
“Celeste.” I dip my head and lay a tender kiss on her cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself tonight?”
She peers around the room, ignoring my question. Her eyes never linger on any one person long until she looks to where Arloe is standing. She has to crane herself to see around me, but I can tell when she spots Arloe because her eyelids lower, her chest pushes out further, and she bites her lip. It’s a familiar gesture, one I’ve seen a hundred times—one I’ve been on the receiving end of time and time again.