21. Rip #2
Kingsley glances at the painting, then turns to Lila. “Yeah, I think it’s—”
Just as he speaks, I press my thumb against the button. Kingsley clams up mid-sentence, and the tremor causes him to lose his grip on the glass. A sharp smash pierces the air, instantly quieting the room and drawing every gaze to the spilled wine and scattered shards of glass at his feet.
Shit, I didn’t think he would drop it like that. Just as I remove my thumb, his body visibly relaxes, and he shoots me an evil eye.
A past hookup would be clawing at my throat for this.
Hell, they wouldn’t have let me stick a butt plug up their ass at all and wear it in public at all.
But as much as Kingsley is trying to put up a stern face, he hasn’t once put up a fight.
He’s quiet, but not when he doesn’t want to be, so if he hates this, I would know.
Yeah—he likes it.
“Man, are you alright?” Tanner asks, giving his shoulder a tight squeeze.
Kingsley’s lips press together. “Yeah, I’m just a little off.”
Shawn wraps an arm around his King, speaking loudly for the listening ears. “It was an accident. He’s been a tad under the weather, so please forgive him.”
Thomas meets my gaze as if he knows I caused it. The kid might as well be a mind reader. I try to avoid his gaze, and that’s all the proof he needs because he gives a hard head shake.
We say our goodbyes to Tanner and Lila, then Shawn ushers us to a nearby empty table. We sit down, I beside Thomas and Kingsley beside Shawn.
Shawn eyes his friend. “Are you okay?”
Kingsley scratches his head. “Nothing to worry about.”
“You’ve got dozens of cameras flashing our every move, waiting for you to do something headline-worthy. Get it together,” Shawn coaches.
God, his voice is even more annoying when he’s lecturing.
“So,” Shawn starts, facing us, “have you two ever been to a gala?”
I answer before Thomas can. “Once, recently. We never had the opportunity before.”
Shawn tilts his head. “Why not?”
“Few gala opportunities in the orphanage.”
“But you were adopted, weren’t you? By two women?”
Props to Jordan for making our phony backstory so similar to our real one. It makes it easy to keep up with the details, because as Mother always says, lies are more believable with true details sprinkled in there.
“Yes,” Thomas answers. “What does that have to do with a gala?”
Absolutely nothing. It’s just Shawn sticking his nose in places it doesn’t belong, and us having to endure it for the sake of the job.
“I’m only making conversation,” he says lamely. “Working for Beaumont Grand must be like a whole new world to you.”
“Shawn,” Kingsley warns.
Thomas and I share a look. What’s that about?
Shawn lets out a huff, then turns away, not pressing any further. Yes, listen to Kingsley like his good little soldier, like you probably are. Dimwit.
I pick up my phone to kill some time, but when I see I’m still on the app, I can’t help but tap one last time.
Kingsley’s shoulders tense, a silent yelp trapped as he bites his lip, and he stares hard at the table.
This time his reaction is subtle enough that Thomas and Shawn don’t notice—or at least they don’t say anything.
He looks at me with a scowl, and I’m sure he’s about to tear me a new one, but someone interrupts.
A man in a dress shirt and slacks is hovering over us with a phone in his right hand and earbuds in his ears. It’s about time a reporter came to harass us.
“Kingsley Beaumont, do you have a minute?” He asks, jabbing the audio port of his phone into King’s face.
The last bit of joy left his eyes. “Sure.”
The reporter grins, wide and toothy, like he won the lottery. “I want to know about your sister, Aralynn.”
“What about her?”
“Are the police reports true? Did Aralynn funnel money through charities and organizations illegally? Was she selling drugs in Italy?”
“My sister is innocent,” he states firmly.
“Is she, though?” he challenges. “According to police, they have dozens of records showing her illegally moving money. Some witnesses say they’ve seen her offering drugs to locals.”
I know that has to be a load of shit. No way is Aralynn Beaumont stupid enough to sell drugs where witnesses could see and testify. She wouldn’t be her parents’ daughter if she did. The rumors people come up with are wild.
“What the fuck did I just say?” Kingsley’s voice echoes between them, causing other nearby heads to turn.
He glares daggers at the reporter, making the man’s face redden, and he looks around anxiously for someone to save him. Kingsley, for the first time, looks as if he’s about to blow a gasket.
His sister is a hot topic, and this man just kicked a hornet’s nest. I don’t want to see what will happen next.
Impulsively, I stand up from my chair and slither my arms gently around Kingsley’s neck. “Forgive him. I don’t know if you overheard, but King hasn’t been feeling his best self. Actually, I think it’s time for him to go home.”
I lift Kingsley out of his chair. He resists at first, but then I give his side a tight squeeze, and he complies.
Thomas’ brow furrows. “Go home?”