She stretches for my back pocket, but before her hands reach my phone, I slide her down my front, setting her on her feet at the bottom of the stairs.
“Nosey creature.”
“It’s only natural!” She grabs her waist with both hands, pulling an almost convincing stern school teacher expression. “What are they betting on?”
Us, baby.
More precisely: how long it takes before our fake relationship turns very fucking real.
Too bad they don’t have all the info—I’m here by accident and still not convinced I’m her type. Sure, she came on to me when she was tipsy, but that doesn’t count. Besides, we just fucking met. I’m not rushing into anything. Especially since this week is supposed to be nothing but a business transaction; we’ll both get what we want from the situation. She gets a Grant-free trip, and by the end, I’ll be free from my brothers’ blackmailing.
Win-win.
Anything else I get out of this will be a welcome bonus.
“Oh, there you are!” a female voice booms behind us.
We turn to find a young woman trotting down the stairs on ludicrous heels, her navy fitted dress so long the back is still at the top while she’s halfway down.
“I’ve missed you so much, sis!”
Addie stiffens beside me briefly, then releases a breath, forcing her muscles to relax as the girl engulfs her in a tight hug.
“Amara, this is Colt, my boyfriend,” Addie says when Amara pulls away, looking me up and down.
“Victoria mentioned Addie brought a guest,” she trills, extending her hand to suggest it should be kissed. “It’s a pleasure. I’m Amara, the bride-to-be.”
“Congratulations on your engagement.”
A dazzling smile takes the width of her face as she proudly presents her finger, adorned with a big-ass rock. It’s bigger and uglier than the ring Conor bought Vivienne before he consulted us. I guess Amara’s got around-the-clock security, so she doesn’t have to worry about being mugged...
We move to the restaurant where over twenty people are sitting around a long table. The introductions and surprised glances my way don’t end for ten minutes, but once I’ve shaken all hands and exchanged pleasantries, Henry drapes his arm over my shoulders, steering me away.
“Don’t mind the commotion,” he says, signaling the bartender. “No one believed Victoria when she announced Addie had brought a boyfriend. They’ll calm down by tomorrow.”
“That’s... reassuring.”
He smirks, resting an elbow on the counter. “So tell me, Colt, what do you do for a living?”
“Business management and acquisition. I own a few places in Orange County and manage my brother’s portfolio. He started focusing solely on market trading a few years ago.”
“A stockbroker, eh? A handy person to have in the family.”
“Sure is,” I agree, ordering a drink from the bartender. “Can I have a glass of Château Lafite?Rothschild Pauillac?”
“A fine choice,” the bartender commends. “I’ll fetch a bottle from the cellar.”
As the bartender leaves, Henry’s posture stiffens and his eyes narrow slightly. “Hayes,” he mutters, with an air of realization. “Of course. I knew it rang a bell. Your brother, the stockbroker, is Nico Hayes, yes?”
“Yes.” Addie joins us, wearing a look of bothersome terror. One glance behind her explains the issue: her mother’s glaring at her with a deep eleven marking her forehead. “I don’t think there’s a soul in Newport who hasn’t heard about Nico,” she adds, her hand sneaking around my back.
We align seamlessly,naturally, and as if we’ve done it a thousand times before, I draw her closer.
“His reputation precedes him,” Henry agrees. “The real-estate agent who helped me find Addie’s house sang his praises. I believe it was thanks to your brother that Michael tripled his inheritance, raising enough to start his own agency.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me. The list of people my brother’s turned into millionaires grows exponentially.”
The bartender returns with the bottle, turning his back to us as he fetches a glass and a corkscrew.
