30. who ordered the disaster?
CHAPTER 30
WHO ORDERED THE DISASTER?
IVY
Lincoln is waiting outside my apartment when Emma and I return. He looks incredible (When doesn’t he?) in a teal dress shirt that I know without touching will be expensively smooth and my favorite dark jeans, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the collar undone enough that his gold chain and a peek of tattoo are visible as we get closer.
I remember how spectacularly rumpled he looked the morning after the masquerade, his shirt half buttoned, jacket slung over his arm. His bedhead alone almost destroyed me enough to drag him back to bed.
As soon as he turns, his lips part. I barely get to ask, “Do you like—” before he has stalked forward and cupped my face in both hands and is kissing me breathless in the hallway.
Fireflies awaken under my skin, humming and buzzing around my heart, lighting up my ribcage. This is not the gentle kiss we shared in front of his family or the deep and deliberate kiss he gave me our first night together.
No, it’s so much more. It’s hunger and fire and a sweeping wave of ownership that knocks me off my feet until all I can do is hold on and surrender.
“Oh,” I breathe as he softly nips on my lower lip. I’m definitely going to need a minute to remember what words are.
Distantly, I hear Emma say, “Lincoln Montgomery Reeves, you better not kiss everyone like that.” But Lincoln’s palms are still warm on my cheeks, his mouth mere inches from my own.
He stares down, eyes blazing. Oh, wow.
“I take it you like the new look,” I finally breath out, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You’re ravishing, darling. More so than usual.”
I have to close my eyes under the praise, awareness slowly creeping back in. I release his arms, which I’ve been clinging to, and step back to collect myself, since he doesn’t seem all too interested in parting from me. But Emma knows we aren’t really dating, so there’s no chance to really indulge whatever has come over him.
At least he likes the hair.
“Emma, I hope you’ve been well.”
“I am. Almost as well as you, from the look of it.”
I can hear the smile in her voice, but I haven’t been able to take my eyes off Lincoln. As if sensing my gaze, he turns back to me.
“Infatuation suits me.”
Emma chuckles. “Well, on that note, I’ll leave you two to it.” She pulls me in for a hug. “You better text me everything,” she whispers in my ear. “Have fun at dinner.”
* * *
The restaurant is nice (not that I expected any less), although not quite Lincoln’s style. It’s all hard, sharp lines and cool, pale tones. There’s a low hum of noise, as though sound itself is being carefully traded between guests, no one showing their hand.
Even the exposed kitchen works in almost silence. It’s off-putting, but he knows his brother better than I do, so I don’t mention it.
Reed and a woman I’m assuming is Felicity, his girlfriend, are already seated when we arrive, and when I know we’re in view of them, I pull Lincoln to a stop.
It’s indulgent and selfish, but my lips have been burning with the need to touch his since we left, and I’m not going to get many chances to do this, so why not stretch up and kiss him?
Just to touch. To taste. To remember.
He strokes along my jaw, and my heart jumps. “What was that for?”
Lightning skitters along my spine. The way he looks at me is exactly what I’ve always wished for.
“Just playing my part,” I say with a smile, expecting him to joke back, but he doesn’t. Instead, he frowns, and I have the all-too-terrible feeling I just said the wrong thing.
“You do know you’re in the way, don’t you?” Darcy jokes as she walks by, and I watch as a part of Lincoln’s mask slips back into place.
Right. It’s not real.
It’s not real.
* * *
Felicity is lovely, with intelligent eyes and a striking gap between her front teeth. Her thick brown hair curls down over a draped blouse in cream that makes her skin glow, and there’s the lightest pink dusted over her cheeks. Her smile is soft as I introduce myself. I would love to know how Reed managed to charm her.
Lincoln and I take the seats across from her and Reed, and Darcy plants herself between her brothers, which is clearly on purpose. There’s an empty seat beside me, and I wonder where Astrid is. It doesn’t seem like her to be late.
“Where’s Mum?” Lincoln asks.
Reed unravels his napkin and places it over his lap. “On a last-minute trip to Paris. Something important with an old friend, she said. I’ve got no more details than that, but you can always check with Darcy if you don’t believe me.”
Lincoln frowns, ignoring Reed’s baited accusation, while I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying anything.
“More important than this?”
The tightening of Reed’s jaw is the only indication that he’s not as unbothered as he’s trying to appear. “Yes, well.”
The silence extends, thick and uncomfortable, until the waiter arrives to take our drink order.
I use the distraction to ask Lincoln quietly, “What do you think happened?”
“I’m not sure. It’s not like Mum to miss a family dinner, unless she thought being absent would help.”
I’m not convinced. To do that, we might actually need a séance. Maybe if we channel the ghosts of people who actually communicate , they can finally sort themselves out. There’s only so much I can do.
As I’m ordering a glass of chardonnay, the empty chair beside me is filled. Lincoln tenses, and from the overbearing cloud of cologne, I know exactly who has arrived.
“Sorry I’m late, fam.” Kyle grins. “Hope I didn’t miss anything.”
Oh yay, the court asshole approacheth.
I wonder what chemicals I’d need to mix into this wine for it to instantly kill me. If only I hadn’t failed chemistry. Maybe I can spend the rest of the meal in Lincoln’s lap.
On second thought, if I do that, I’ll never leave.
Under the table, Lincoln hooks his foot under my chair and pulls me closer, draping his arm protectively over my shoulders. Close enough.
* * *
Dinner is more stilted than a Love is Blind reunion. I’ll never know if there’s a different version out there, one where King Kyle isn’t getting high off his own self-importance, because biting back every sarcastic response is taking 70 percent of my concentration. The other thirty is busy getting distracted by the soft glide of Lincoln’s fingers along my bare shoulder while Felicity tells me about her massage therapy day spa.
“It’s not for profit, which was the only way I wanted to do it, and I’ve partnered with both the training school and the women’s shelter to ensure that all of our positions are filled by women who are unfairly looked over for work. Sometimes it’s mothers who haven’t been in the workforce for a long time, or it’s women escaping abusive situations who need a safe and supportive environment. Everything we do is about giving back to the community,” she tells me. It’s as impressive as it is humbling.
“She’s incredible,” Reed says, with eyes only for her. I can’t disagree.
It’s interesting to hear the cross section of accents as we eat. Reed’s and Darcy’s are subtler, probably on account of them living full time in the states for so long. But next to Kyle and the rest of the Bradbury clan? It’s obvious where the differences lie.
Lincoln’s voice slips and squeezes between the harsh vowels around me, curling around my shoulders like my favorite sweater.
“So, Ivy.” Kyle’s arm brushes mine as he faces me, and I plaster on a smile. “What makes you so impressive that you’d inspire the man who never settles down to move across an ocean for you?”
I’m about to tell him to go drown himself in that ocean when Lincoln’s deep, commanding voice does it for me.
“Kyle, if a woman of her caliber had ever deemed you worthy to spend time with, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”
“I think it’s wonderfully romantic,” Felicity adds. She’s been giving us heart eyes since we recounted the story of our long-distance courtship (Lincoln literally calls it courting, and I’m blushing too hard to say anything).
Lincoln’s eyes are captivating. I can’t look away. “I knew the moment I saw her, I needed her in my life.”
Felicity sighs.
“You sap,” Darcy teases, but she’s smiling at us.
“Not sure I believe it,” comes from my left, and I turn in time to see Kyle ripping a bread roll apart and throwing a piece into his mouth, smiling as he chews. “A decade of bedding down the hottest chicks I’ve ever seen, not to mention all those preppy Oxford girls, and not one of them was good enough to stick around for?”
I’m about to stick something in this asshole if he doesn’t shut up.
Listening to him talk is worse than getting my period on an overnight Greyhound when I specifically left my tampons behind because packing them “just in case” was overkill.
Cue the instant regret.
“None of them even come close to her,” Lincoln says, plucking my deepest desire from my heart as easily as a petal from a rose.
Kyle’s staring at Lincoln the same calculating way my old calico Mimi looked at visitors. She’d wait until they’d gotten comfortable, then pounce. And if you didn’t pet her just right, she’d scream in your face and dig her nails in before flouncing off. I sit up tall, trying to put as much of a barrier between them as possible, and pull my glass closer.
A little water always worked on Mimi.
Finished with his meal, Kyle throws his napkin down and sprawls back in his chair. He’s being the kind of friendly they only are when they’re up to something.
What’s the word? Smarm. Ugh. He’s oozing it. I’m half expecting it to follow him across the floor like a snail trail, sticky and foul. “Look at us, together again. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
No one around the table agrees.
It doesn’t stop Kyle for a second. “I’ve been saying it for years. Our parents had the wrong idea, splitting off and doing their own thing. With our powers combined, we could really do something special. Like take the tech company my buddy just started. Ground up, right? And the banks, they’re holding out on him, saying he’s too green to know what he’s doing, and he can’t get finance, but?—”
“I’d really rather we didn’t discuss business tonight,” Reed interjects.
“Oh, man. But it’s not really business, is it? That’s what I’m saying. You three got lucky. Deacon liked you better than the rest of us. With only a small amount of capital, you’d be the first to recognize what a gold mine we have here. And who better to support than family?”
“What kind of tech?” I ask, because I’ve got an internal bet going with myself that it’s the Silicon Valley equivalent of an MLM.
“Obviously I can’t give away anything confidential,” he says, and I want to roll my eyes so badly I’m going to strain them. “But it’s the next big thing in automatous logistics.”
“Oh, I saw something like that on iCarly ,” I lie, purely to annoy the ever-living fuck out of him.
Little of his expression changes; his wide, uncanny smile holds on for dear life as his jaw strains. Oh yeah, he hated that. “Actually,” he says in that smarmy way that makes my skin crawl, “it’s far more complicated that a kids’ show, not that I’d expect you to understand.”
He looks proud of himself, as though he’s beaten me, and I want to laugh in his face. Oh, please underestimate me. It’ll be so much fun.
“Ah,” I interrupt, nodding as though I’ve discovered a key clue. “You were more of a Zack and Cody fan. I get it.”
Beside me, Lincoln lets out a soft snort. It’s no more than a quick exhale, but it’s dripping in humor. Darcy isn’t containing a smile, but she is avoiding eye contact, probably so she won’t laugh out loud.
Even Reed almost looks amused. Kyle, however, looks like he’s regretting my very existence.
“And how do you know it’s a good investment?” Reed asks. His expression is calm, but the kind of calm I assume you see before a tiger eats your face off.
“See, that’s what’s so perfect. I’ve got an eye for these things. No offense.” Kyle may as well wave a red flag at this point, on top of the awful silk button-down he’s wearing tonight. “I know you’re the big CEO guy here, but I’m telling you, I’ve got my finger on the pulse, and I know these guys. Honestly, if you want to be really smart, you’d hire me. Bring me onboard. I’ll be the best asset you have.”
Lincoln tenses every time Kyle’s arm brushes mine. It’s wildly empowering, having a man like Lincoln— strong, ferocious, Lincoln— ready to protect me. Kyle’s inane babble fades into the background while I watch Lincoln’s knuckles flex and ripple.
He has great hands.
“I can assure you,” Reed says, adjusting his wineglass on the table. His tone borders on bored, but I can see the way his left hand is tightly clenched around his fork. “If I was interested in advice on financial decisions, and I’m not, you’d be the last person I’d think of.”
Around us, the other guests continue to eat. Waiters glide seamlessly between tables with polite precision. In the corner, I see a woman cover a laugh with her hand, but I hear nothing above my own thundering pulse.
In the corner of my eye, Kyle nods over a huffed laugh. I don’t dare move. Lincoln’s hand on my shoulder tightens.
“You say that now,” Kyle says, still with a forced cheer. I won’t give him credit for much, but it’s clear he’s shrewd enough to recognize that no one here wants anything to do with him. And still, he keeps trying. “But I’ll convince you.”
Dinner is cleared from the table, and the distraction allows us all to take a collective breath.
Lincoln slides his hand to the junction of my neck and squeezes, and my breath catches in my throat. “I need to excuse myself for a moment. Will you be all right?” Goose bumps flood my body, tingling along my calves and shoulders and making my nipples hard. I fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest.
“Yes.”
He leans in and kisses my cheek before heading toward the bathrooms. I’m still blushing when Kyle runs his fingers down my arm. I flinch away from him, knocking Lincoln’s phone to the floor under my chair. Before I can move, Kyle leans down — too close, too close, too close — and holds it out to me.
His eyes drop to my blue corset top, and he better pick them up before I pluck them out.
“Your boyfriend,” he says, disdain dripping from every word, “dropped this. He should be more careful with his things. You never know when you’re going to lose them.”
I yank it out of his hands. “He doesn’t have anything to worry about there.”
“I’m not so sure,” he says, making my skin crawl. There’s something under his tone I can’t quite figure out. But before I do, he’s standing and throwing his napkin to the table. “This has been fun, but I’m a busy man with important people to see. Catch you all at the house next month. It’s looking like it’s going to be the best year yet.”
Nobody says goodbye, but it doesn’t stop Kyle from walking away. Good riddance, asshole.
Remembering Lincoln’s phone, I look down.
There’s a notification:
Thank you, Mr. Silver, for your ongoing contributions to Pulse TM . As one of our top creators, your monthly earnings have been transferred to your account with a bonus to reflect the excellent boost in plays this month. Keep up the fantastic work!
When Lincoln returns, I stand, ready to get home and as far from Kyle as possible.