Chapter 19
NINETEEN
STERLING
That kiss.
Fuck, that kiss was like a shot of heroin straight into my heart, and I’ve thought about nothing else since. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve thought about what I would’ve done if we hadn’t been so rudely interrupted by my arsehole friend, Dalton, and that is, strip Harlow bare, lift her onto the kitchen counter and bury my face in her delectable pussy.
Of course, Dalton’s call had the same effect as chucking a bucket of cold water over us both. Harlow had insisted I answer, and with every second that Dalton complained about Daisy making his life difficult, Harlow had stepped further and further away from me until she’d slipped out of the kitchen and disappeared back to her room. Now, here I am sitting opposite Dalton and Ben in Bandits Bar whilst he asks our advice on how to handle his soon-to-be wife.
“Don’t you think you should’ve thought about this before you signed the contract agreeing to marry Daisy?” Ben asks, straight to the point. “I mean, we all know she’s a force of nature.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Dalton snaps back, grabbing his glass of bourbon and chucking back a mouthful, before slamming it back onto the table. “I came here for some advice, not a lecture.”
“So let me get this straight, she kneed you in the bollocks, and now you’ve got a bruised ego. Is that about the sum of it?” I ask, my lip twitching with a smile. I’d like to have seen that.
“The only part of my body that was bruised were my balls, which have thankfully recovered,” he counters with a glare, but there’s no denying the slight flush of pink to his cheeks from embarrassment.
I’m surprised he even told us to be honest, because I know for a fact that Ben won’t let that juicy tidbit of information go. He’ll take great pleasure in reminding Dalton for months about how Princetown’s charming playboy finally got his comeuppance.
“Not sure how you’re going to come back from that to be honest. She clearly hates you,” Ben smirks.
“Again, not fucking helpful. I’m well aware of how Daisy feels about me, and Drix will chop my bollocks off if he finds out I upset her. I need to fix this as best I can, and it’s not as if I can ask his advice right now given he hates me too. So here I am with you two arseholes,” he says, glaring at us both, “I’m hoping that between the three of us we come up with a plan.”
“You need a plan on how to take care of a woman?” Ben asks incredulously. “Here’s me thinking that you were well versed in that area, but maybe you’re not the Casanova you think you are, huh?”
“You know what? Fucking forget it,” Dalton says, pressing his hands against the table and moving to stand.
“Sit down, Dalton,” I say, throwing a look at Ben who just sniggers like a fucking school kid. To be fair it is pretty amusing, but I’ve got things to do, namely getting back to Harlow, and I really just want to get this conversation done, so the sooner he sits his arse back down in the chair, the better. “We came here to help. We’ll help. So tell us exactly what’s been going on because I’m getting the impression that bruised balls are the least of your concerns right now, am I right?”
Dalton grits his jaw, but he sits. “I bought Daisy an engagement ring, and last night I proposed at ‘M’. We kissed to seal the deal.”
“So let me get this straight, you took Daisy to a private members club, proposed to her in front of a room full of people, and then kissed her to seal the deal ?” Ben asks, finger quoting the air as he flicks his gaze from me to Dalton and back again. “Even I know she’d fucking hate that, and I haven’t been best friends with her older brother for over twenty fucking years. Daisy has always been incredibly private, not to mention the fact kissing her was taking a fucking liberty.”
“We have to make this look real,” Dalton argues, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “I couldn’t exactly propose and then not kiss her, that would be fucking weird.”
“Did you get down on one knee too?” Ben asks, flicking me a look.
Dalton clenches his jaw, heaving out a breath before answering. “Yes.”
“And what did she say?”
Dalton looks at Ben like he’s grown another head. “What the fuck else did you think she’d say? Yes , of course.”
“To be fair, I still thought she might see sense,” Ben replies with a shrug.
“So you took her to dinner, proposed, and then what?” I ask, because I can tell there’s more. Dalton is looking far too shifty for there not to be.
“Some arsehole waiter spilled a drink on her shirt, and so I bought her a few replacements, gave them to her this morning…” he replies, dropping his gaze to his drink.
Ben’s brows lift, as surprised as I am by the thoughtfulness. “And?”
“And then nothing,” he mutters.
“And you can’t kid a kidder. Fess up, Dalton,” Ben insists.
“Then I said she should have a massage in the hotel spa because I thought she’d benefit from some relaxation,” he replies, jaw clenching.
Ben and I exchange looks.
“What else?” I ask, because there’s no way this is the end of the story. Dalton hasn’t called us here to get a pat on his back for his efforts so far, he’s fucked-up somehow, that much is clear.
“And I found out that she’d specifically asked for that beefy masseuse, Tomasz, to give her a massage,” he retorts tightly, before gritting his teeth once again, that muscle in his jaw jumping with agitation.
“Uh oh,” Ben says, taking a swig of coffee to hide his smirk. “Another man’s hands on your woman, couldn’t have made you all that happy.”
“She’s not my woman. She’s my fake fiancé,” he snaps.
“Tell that to someone who’ll believe you,” he retorts under his breath.
“So what did you do?” I ask, leaning back in my seat as I watch him swipe a hand over his face.
“I fired him,” he cuts out.
“You fired a man for doing the job he was hired to do?” I ask, lifting my brows as Ben and I exchange another look. I’m pretty sure he’s thinking exactly what I’m thinking, and that is Dalton is in fucking denial.
“He put his hands on Daisy, so yes, I fucking fired him.”
“Because she’s not your woman, but is your fake fiancé?” Ben insists, needling him.
“I’d just like to point out,” I interject, “That this marriage is going to be very real, very soon. So unless you want that to change you have to accept that there’s nothing fake about your engagement or your impending marriage.”
“Semantics,” Dalton mutters, scowling at us.
“Well, is there anything else you’d like to add before we give you our advice?” Ben asks.
“No.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you sure?”
“That’s about it,” Dalton replies, doing that same shifty eye movement he always does when he’s hiding something. I momentarily think about pushing the subject, but I want to get back to Harlow, and I’ve already spent way too fucking long sitting here.
“Well then, mate, first I think you need to be honest,” Ben offers.
“Honest? I have been honest,” Dalton counters, looking about as uncomfortable as one person can get.
“That’s debatable,” I say, and Dalton glares at me.
“I mean be honest with Daisy about the whole Tomasz situation. I’m assuming she doesn’t know that you fired him for doing his actual job ,” Ben says pointedly.
“I don’t need to explain my reasonings, I’m the fucking manager, and he’s a member of my staff so that means I can do what the fuck I want,” he retorts, folding his arms across his chest defensively.
“That’s true, but if you want to try fixing your relationship with Daisy, so that you can at the very least be in a position to become friends given you’re about to spend a lot of time with her, then you need to start with being honest about what you’ve done,” I say.
“Not sure that’s a good fucking idea,” he grumbles.
“She’ll only find out for herself, and when she does, she’ll be pissed. Better it comes from you, don’t you think?” Ben points out reasonably.
Dalton nods. “Fine. I’ll tell her, but if she thinks I’m going to rehire him, she can think again.”
“That’s your prerogative,” I say with a shrug. “But can I make a suggestion?”
“Shoot,” he retorts, emptying his glass.
“Take her out to dinner. Do it right this time. Be honest about what you did, and for fuck sake, try to consider her feelings in all of this.”
“Not sure she considered my feelings when she kneed me in the bollocks the other day,” he cuts out.
“You and I both know you probably deserved it,” I counter, and Ben smothers another laugh.
“You’re both loving this, aren’t you?” Dalton fires back, glaring at us both.
“What’s that saying? If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the fucking kitchen?” Ben suggests.
“Okay, so I take her out, be honest and try to smooth things over. Got it,” Dalton says, ignoring Ben altogether.
“And I’d suggest not trying to kiss her again if you want to keep your bollocks,” I add.
“Talking of kissing, how’s that going for you?” Dalton retorts, arching a brow as he throws heat my way.
“Yeah, how is Harlow?” Ben asks, flicking his gaze to his phone that’s resting on the table in front of him. “I’ve not heard a whisper from her since the wedding. Thought she might’ve texted me by now.”
“Why the fuck would she text you? How does she even have your number any-fucking-way?” I retort, my hackles rising. He better not have made a pass at her. Best friend or not, I will deck him.
“I gave it to Harlow when we danced together the night of the wedding.”
“You did fucking what?!” I grind out, about ready to launch myself across the table.
Ben raises his hands, palms facing me as he says, “It wasn’t like that, dickhead, I’d never make a move on the woman you’re interested in. Jesus, who the fuck do you take me for, I’m not Dalton?”
“I resent that remark, dickwad,” Dalton grumbles.
“Look, I just figured she might need a friend, that’s all ,” Ben adds, ignoring Dalton’s complaint.
“ I’m her fucking friend,” I cut out, that possessive part of me needing to stake my claim. Wanting nothing more than to keep her all to myself. Which is fucking shitty after how her mother has treated her, but I’m not sure I can share.
“Pretty sure you’re her fucking step-brother too,” he retorts. “Not that I give a shit, but I think you need a little reminder about the predicament you’re in right now, yeah?”
“I’m handling it,” I retort.
“Like fuck you are. You’re wound up tighter than a grandfather clock,” Ben comments knowingly.
“And how, exactly, are you handling it?” Dalton asks, pitching a brow. “Because the last time I saw you together at your parent’s wedding Sterling Junior was about to punch a hole in your trousers, and Harlow looked like she’d just had a very pleasurable org–”
“Shut the fuck up, Dalton!” I hiss.
“Fuck me, you really are in fucking trouble. Your dad will skin you alive, mate,” Ben says, eyes widening. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, and press my eyes shut in an attempt to calm myself down. I’m still riled up over the kiss Dalton interrupted earlier, not to mention the fact that I just found out that Ben gave Harlow his number. To top it all off, being reminded of my father or what he might do if he found out about me and Harlow isn’t helping matters. I know for a fact that it won’t take much more for me to lose my cool and take my frustrations out on either one of my friends. Probably both at this rate.
“I’ve no fucking clue what I’m doing,” I admit.
“I thought you said you were handling it?” Ben asks.
“Yeah, his dick most likely,” Dalton remarks with a smirk, and Ben barks out a laugh.
“You know what, fuck you both,” I snap, standing.
And with that I stride from the bar, letting the door slam shut behind me. Half an hour later I’m pushing ninety miles an hour on the motorway heading towards fuck knows where.