It was normal for her to always be around hanging with Ellie. They’d always be off in Ellie’s room, painting their nails and watching stupid TV shows, staying up late giggling and keeping me up.
We’d always bicker because Lainey was a know-it-all, and she was always around in my space. Not much has changed since then. She’s still a know-it-all, and she’s still always in my space since her and Ellie live together, and across the street from the Elite mansion.
Only now, instead of annoying me, she turns me on without even trying. Without even knowing she affects me, and fuck. As hot as she is, Lainey Barkley kind of fuckingscares me.
Chapter 5
Lainey
We pull up to a nice building on the outskirts ofConnecticut. The sign on thefront reads “Porter Brothers Suits Co.”
The red brick building looks old but charming. I’m sure it looks absolutely beautiful in the summer, but right now the bricks look dull after being covered with snow, and the sidewalk is covered in brown slush. Still, the place has an expensive feel to it.
Holland gets out of the car first, and I watch as he moves in front of the vehicle, coming to my door and opening it for me. My eyes narrow before stepping out onto the pavement.
“Since when are you a gentleman?” I ask. Holland runs a hand through his shaggy hair, a strand falling in front of his eye.
With a teasing smirk, he says, “I’m always a gentleman. Give me a chance to show you,” he leans in closer, whispering in my ear. “In bed.”
His breath against my ear is warm, and it causes a small shiver to run through me, and not because it’s like thirty degrees outside.
He pulls back and winks at me, the asshole. He’s always making sexual jokes and giving me things to envision in my head. Like his face between my legs, or him behind me as he…okay, Lainey. That’s enough.
Holland and I will never be a thing, even though I can admit that the guy is seriously attractive. Why’d he have to grow up to be hot? It would really make my life a whole lot easier if he were ugly.
The way his sexual comments now make me feel things in my vagina make this whole thing more complicated. Because I find him annoying, and arrogant, and occasionally sweet and protective, and God damnit. I need to stop.
I shake my head and roll my eyes, hoping I look more unaffected than I actually am.
“You’re disgusting,” I tell him, pushing his chest so he backs away from me and starting toward the building. It’s cold as shit out here and if I don’t get inside now, I’m going to freeze to death.
I can hear Holland’s deep chuckle as we come into the foyer of the luxurious looking men’s warehouse. Immediately when you walk in, you can feel the energy change. This isn’t your typical suit and tux shop. This is where fancy, rich people come to get five-thousand-dollar suits and accessories. People who have more money than they know what to do with.
I can’t say much because I grew up wealthy. Really wealthy, to be honest. At any major inconvenience in my life, my parents would send me extravagant gifts like a new car, or a trip to Cabo. But I never used any of that stuff to make myself look better.
No one at school knew how wealthy I was, even though the school consisted of many wealthy families from around the area. I never advertised that I had money. It wasn’t really important to me. It wasn’t what I wanted, or what I needed.
What I needed was for my parents to actually be there, to actually give a shit about their only daughter. I didn’t care about fancy cars or clothes, big houses or crazy vacations. All I wanted was to be a family.
But that wasn’t what I got. So, I took what I could get. Eventually I stopped fighting it. I started accepting their gifts and accepting the fact that I would never have the family I wanted. Life was less disappointing that way.
To the right of the large foyer, a large, beautiful mahogany desk sits with a young, well-dressed gentleman behind it. His black hair is slicked back with too much gel, and he looks kind of uncomfortable in the suit he wears. He’s typing on a computer, and when he notices us, a friendly smile appears on his face.
“Well, hello there,” he greets us in a voice that could only be described as ‘customer servicy.’ “Welcome to Porter Brothers Suits Company. I’m Marcos. What brings you in today?”
Holland gives him a polite smile. “I need a suit for a wedding. Black, please,” he tells the man. Marcos continues to smile, and I’m surprised his cheeks don’t hurt from smiling so much. I don’t think he’s stopped since he saw us.
“Right this way,” Marcos says, leading the way to a large room. The large chandelier that hangs from the ceiling is incredibly beautiful. There are two brown leather couches in the room, with two accent chairs sitting the middle edge between them.
Suits, ties, and shoes line the surrounding walls, and it smells like cedar, leather, and man. The place looks wealthy and almost exclusive. I’d almost feel bad for sitting on the decadent furniture, but then I remember that’s what it’s there for. So I take a seat while Marcos shows Holland all of the options.
I catch myself watching as Holland walks around the spacious room, noticing his muscular legs from years of playing rugby, his huge arms in the long sleeve shirt he’s wearing, his megawatt smile as he talks to Marcos.
I grab my phone from my hoodie pocket and see a missed text from Ellie.
Ellie Bear
Ellie Bear
