Page 32 of Filthy Rich Ex's Brothers

Lillie and I turn in tandem to see Bianca hitting the bottom stair, her pink tufted leather duffel over her shoulder. Her dark hair is held back by a headband, her black dress pressed and falling halfway down her thighs. As usual, she looks perfectly put together.

“Bianca,” I say, surprised. I can’t, apparently, think of anything better to say to my best friend.

“Serena,” she responds, smiling—does it look forced? Or am I imagining it? When she turns to look at the front door, it tugs on the hair caught under the strap of her duffel bag. “Sorry—I was just on my way out?—”

“And she won’t tell us where she’s going!” Lillie singsongs, laughing maniacally before ducking back into the kitchen. “Good luck getting anything out of her, Serena!”

I raise my eyebrows at Bianca and try to smile normally at her. When was the last time I saw her in person? Just passing by in the hallway? Like this?

“Hey,” I say, dropping my volume and stepping closer. I try to read her face, to figure out what the hell is going on with her. “Is everything… okay?”

Bianca adjusts her bag and slides past me, toward the door. She toes on her Mary Janes and grabs at the handle. “Everything is fine. Sorry. Just busy. I’ll, uh, check my calendar! Like I said!”

And with that, she opens the door, slides out, and disappears into the gentle drizzle. I move to the door, thinking to say something to her about grabbing her raincoat, but there’s a driver walking her out, holding a sleek black umbrella over her head before she tucks herself into the backseat of a large, dark gray SUV.

What the hell?

This must have something to do with her grandfather. The rich asshole who never makes her feel like she’s good enough. But why won’t she talk to me about it?

I bite my lip and watch the taillights disappear at the end of the street.

“So, any idea what the hell that was about?”

I jump, bringing my hand to my heart as I turn to face Georgia and Grayson, standing in the hallway together and looking out. Both mild-mannered and responsible, it hits me for the first time that the two of them would make a cute couple.

Now is not the time for matchmaking. I push those thoughts away and shake my head. “No. She’s like, locked up tight right now. She hasn’t really talked to me since I moved back in.”

“Hopefully her family isn’t being too hard on her,” Georgia says thoughtfully, tapping her fingers on the inside of her arm and looking past me to the dark, rainy street.

“I know what will cheer everyone up!” Lillie says, appearing in the hallway again. “Matcha brownies with dark chocolate ganache!”

We file into the kitchen and accept a square of fudgy, rich dessert from Lillie. As I chew, I try to focus on the flavor, on how it’s the perfect amount of sweetness. But I can’t stop myself from thinking about Bianca. Of her disappearing into the night.

“I’ve been working on this recipe fordays,” Lillie says, “I just got my hands on ceremonial matcha. Is there a good depth of flavor?”

Flavor. Food. Sexy chef.

As though summoned by my thoughts of him, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Ryan:What do you say? Come take pictures for me, Serena.

I stare at my phone for a moment as Lillie and Georgia argue over which flavor profile is better, matcha or chai. Then,after finishing the final bite of my brownie, I tap on my screen, answering Ryan.

Serena:fine, but i’m expecting my tip in the form of baked goods.

Chapter 17

Serena

“Dazzling,” the man next to me says, a tiny chocolate tart held in his plump hands. “Simplydazzling.”

I hope, for Ryan’s sake, this man is a reporter or food journalist and not just an interested fan.Dazzlingis definitely what Ryan was going for.

The new bakery he’s opening is jewel-themed. The ceiling is studded with a million tiny diamonds—which I hope are fake—and the pastries are all arranged in a case like fine jewelry, resting atop food-safe pillows. When you approach the counter to purchase one, the attendants talk you through your options, hold them up to the light, and let you examine the shine before buying.

“We all know about engagement rings,” Ryan says from the front of the bakery, grinning widely in that slightly lopsided way of his, “but what about birthday croissants? Anniversary tarts? With Perle,we hope to introduce you to a new way to celebrate the special moments. A handcrafted bakery item to add to those days you never want to forget.”

I have to hand it to him—every item on the menu is lavish. Every drink is rich and tasty, the lattes topped with a thick foam and dusted with some sort of thick edible glitter thatmakes them shine in the light. The décor is impeccable, and the employees are all standing at attention with white gloves.