Chapter Eighty-Nine
‘Where did you say you were from, Geoff?’
I think whoever thought a pre-wedding-cum-engagement-cocktail party as a sensible idea needs to be shot. We’re at Mishael’s house, the day after making up from Essam’s attempt at breaking us up, and it’s filled to the brim with people. A small orchestra plays on the patio, the soft strains of Cole Porter drifting in through the open doors, as unobtrusive catering staff in starched white shirts serve tiny morsels from silver platters, from a kitchen holding enough food to feed the population of Luxembourg.
I barely know anyone here; this is the Khalfan machine in action.Oh, the schmooze!I know Phillippe, the wedding co-ordinator, who’s currently taking a break from fluttering around the room like a butterfly; I know Niamh and Rob, or as I’ve taken to calling them, the dark mistress and her subpar-sub.Who nearly chokes on a pair of knickers, for feck’s sake?And my parents, of course. And Kai. Mishael. Oh, and supposedly Faris, who’s been called to work last minute, apparently.My arse.I haven’t seen the man at all since we returned from Australia.
‘Dad?’
‘Sorry. Did you say something?’ Geoff’s meaty neck flushes pink from collar to cheek as Phillippe leans in between us.
‘No, silly.’ He’s all fluttery lashes as he touches his fingers to Geoff’s hand. ‘Idid.’
Phillippe, as camp as Christmas and playing up to the stereotype, has singled poor Geoff out as virgin meat to torment. From his uncomfortably fastened tie, to the way the chilli crab has made him sweat like a fat kid in a bakery, he is seriously out of his element. And as well as being seriously straight—kinky or not—he’s also extremely straight-laced. On the surface, anyway. I’m not going there.Stop. Stop. Brain must not go there.Straight-laced and exuding hetro, the obvious choice to provide Phillippe with the most fun.
‘We live in Brisbane, but Geoff’s from Victoria originally.’ Mum supplies this from across the table, where she and Mishael are talking roses, oblivious to Geoff’s flushed skin.
‘The last time I was in Victoria was years ago.’ Phillippe’sreply is airy as he reaches for his glass. ‘I don’t think I’ve entered another woman since. I can’t think why,’ he adds with a wink.
One warning glance from Mishael, and it doesn’t take him long to move onto other masculine quarry, namely Rob, Niamh’s date for the night. Despite being teeteringly tall in these killer shoes; black, pointed toes, needle-like heels, Rob has so far this evening refused to look me in the eye. I think it’s embarrassment, rather than a sub thing. Can’t imagine Niamh’s told him he’s not allowed to look at me. Not even she’s that cruel.
I straighten the black shantung silk over my thighs, wondering if I should’ve dug out spanx. I’m channelling Holly Golightly tonight, my dress erring just on the right side of indecent in terms of décolletage, and my messy up-do more along the lines of Holly after a rough night.
‘I see the master and madam Cyn are in top form tonight.’ The dark mistress herself sidles up beside me as I move from the table, stage whispering in my ear. She slides a glass into my hand.
‘Don’t say that. Someone might hear you,’ I hiss.
‘Glad to havehimselfback?’ She tilts her own glass to Kai, now chatting to an older man across the room.
‘So freakin’ glad.’ I try, and fail, to hide my smile, flashes of earlier filling my mind. Kai’s kisses and torment as I’d tried to dress; remembering the teasing bite marks he left against tender flesh.
‘I can see. You’re all glowy and stuff. Somebody’s been gettin’ some,’ she whisper-sings.
‘See, some of us don’t have to tie a man to her bedpost to get him to stay.’
‘Oh, I don’thave totiehim, Kitty.’ She smiles like the cat that got the cream.And licked that bowl clean. ‘I just have to tell him to stay, and he does... if he knows what’s good for him.’ Her gaze slides to Rob, and as though sensing its weight, he looks up. All one hundred plus kilos of the man starts to blush.
‘Wipe the smile off your face, you dirty whore.’
‘Takes one to know one.’ She moves her smile and attention back. ‘You gettin’ plenty cranberry?’ she asks with one curled brow.
‘Is that what we’re calling it now? Yeah, sure,plentycranberry, thanks.’
‘You know exactly what I mean.’
‘It’s these heels!’
Honestly, her and her assumptions of my odd gait. Yes, Kai happens to be packing, but it’s these shoes, I tell you!
At the mention of her cure for sex with the well-endowed, my gaze slides again to Kai. His long fingers wrap around the rim of his whiskey glass as he brings it to his mouth, smiling politely at something being discussed. I watch him longer than is strictly necessary, or polite, but I can’t seem to move my gaze away. He’s just so handsome; all lean angles and elegantly posed as he stands there. I love seeing him in suits, almost as much as I like stripping him out of them.Who knew suit porn was an actual thing.
‘Yes, I get it. Everyone in the room does—you licked it, so it’s yours.’ Niamh waves her hand in front of my face. ‘He put a ring on it, or youput your ring on it.’
The glass I’ve just raised to my lips almost clashes with my teeth.
‘Ow! Nee-ve!’ I draw out her name in reprimand, even if it is a bit of a ploy. Good job she doesn’t know how true that is.Ring, hah!
‘Whatever. Stop looking at the bloke like you wanna hump his leg, especially his middle one.’
