Chapter Thirty-Five
DYLAN
A week after my flu from hell and Rhyland’s news that he was becoming a billionaire tycoon whose barely incorporated company was on the verge of going public, my brother and my BFF came to New York.
They were here only for a few hours for Row to sign some contracts, but Cal brought over her nanny, whom we trusted to babysit both Gravity and Serafina while we went out.
Cal insisted we go to a club, even though I was pooped from working shifts at the Alchemist, putting together my college applications, and monitoring Tucker’s meetings with my daughter. Rhyland had still been babysitting Grav. He claimed we needed a four-week buffer of him continuing to pay me and babysit for me in case Bruce needed more proof we were together, but I knew he just wanted to keep paying me so I’d have a good amount of money saved up for school.
I was getting there, though. $60K meant my tuition was paid for one year. Too bad I needed seven of those.
“Aren’t you happy I talked you into going out?” Cal cooed in front of the mirror in the hotel they were staying at. She’d let me borrow a Valentino sequin minidress in a shade of green that complimented my olive skin.
Cal hugged my shoulders from behind, grinning at me in the reflection.
“Yeah,” I admitted with a smile. “I think I needed some grown-up time. Thanks.”
“How’s your fake romance going?” She kissed my cheek.
“Surprisingly well,” I confessed.
Though I felt guilty about not telling our friends we were hooking up, I also knew it wasn’t my decision to say so.
“Rhy really helps me out with Gravity. Turns out I really like him.”
“Good, because he’s coming with us to the club.” Cal winked. “Tate too,” she said apologetically before I could process the first bomb she’d thrown at me.
“Cal, it was supposed to be a girls’ night out,” I moaned. “There’ll be more testosterone there than in an NHL locker room.”
“Row wasn’t feeling comfortable about the two of us clubbing alone in the big city.” My best friend winced apologetically. She was ethereal, gorgeous, and sweet—but a total people pleaser. “But he also wasn’t feeling super comfortable tagging along alone like some kind of grumpy bodyguard.”
“That’s literally what he was our entire adolescence,” I argued.
“Yeah, so I guess it wasn’t fun for him like it was for us.”
In the end, we all crammed into a limousine. Rhyland and I took opposite seats and tried hard not to eye-fuck each other. I still needed for us to finish our conversation about my school and our babysitting arrangement, but I’d chickened out. It didn’t look like Rhyland wanted to offer his help, and now, with his business taking off, I was one hundred percent sure he wouldn’t have time for that.
“Everyone’s looking like a million bucks.” Cal looked between us as we tipped our champagne glasses in the air, clinking them together.
“No need to hurl out insults, Calla,” Tate said taciturnly. “My suit is not that cheap.”
That asshole thought a million-dollar suit was cheap? The man was so high maintenance I was surprised he’d agreed to share oxygen with mere mortals.
“Speaking of big bucks…” Row’s glare traveled from Tate to Rhyland, his arm slung protectively over his wife. “Congratulations are in order.”
Rhy smirked, lounging back and tipping his champagne in the air.
“Surprise,” Tate said in the driest voice possible, tossing something into Rhyland’s hands. “This is your business-deal gift from me and Row, and this outing is our celebration.”
I shot Cal a furious look. “They were always coming, weren’t they?”
Cal shrugged. “We didn’t want you to tip Rhy off. I love you, but you do have a big mouth.”
“Lies. Her mouth is just the right size for my di—” Rhy started, then he realized what he was saying and clamped his mouth shut.
Oh my God. This idiot. He wasn’t even drunk.
“Come again?” Row said slowly, slipping his arm from behind Cal and leaning on his elbows, examining Rhyland more closely.
“I think that was the premise of his entire statement,” Tate said unhelpfully.
“It was a joke,” I ground out tightly. Row had no right to tell me who to fuck. But he had expectations from both of us, and he’d been nothing but generous and loyal to me and Rhyland. “You know? Funny ha ha.” I rolled my eyes.
“It wasn’t fucking funny,” Row informed me, “and there was no ha ha.”
“She’s not your daughter,” Rhyland said evenly, and I noticed he wasn’t denying the fact that his dick really had been in my mouth at least a hundred times since I moved in downstairs. “Even if she was,” Rhyland continued, a note of darkness in his tone, “I don’t take well to your overbearing behavior. She can fuck whoever she wants, whenever she wants. And if we happen to want to fuck each other, there’s nothing you can do about it.”
The temperature dropped about a hundred degrees in the limo. Bile burned a path up my throat.
“Unless you’re into watching,” Rhy drawled, bored. “I’m a charitable man and a sworn extrovert.” He winked.
Row launched himself at Rhyland. Cal and I, who were bracketing Row from each side, pushed him back to his seat. But Rhy looked about ready to fight him, and that scared and thrilled me in equal measures.
“What are you saying?” Row spat, back in his seat, panting hard.
I knew this wasn’t the right time or place to break the news that we were hooking up—if there even was a right time to say it—and decided to steer the conversation to safer waters.
“He’s just telling you to tuck the crazy inside. You’re being hella overprotective,” I snorted. “Seriously, chill. Rhy and I got chummy because of the fake engagement thingy. Of course your behavior grinds his gears.”
“Just remember, that ring isn’t real.” Row pointed to my engagement ring.
The words punctured my soul and poured all the hope and happiness out. I’d gotten used to the weight of it on my wedding finger—to the way it sparkled and shined when I worked at the bar scrubbing toilets, doing dishes, pouring drinks.
“I know,” I said quietly.
“Stop being an asshole.” Cal swatted her husband’s thigh.
The place we were going to was called the Forbidden Fruit Club, a decadent hot spot in the East Village. Tate had crowned it as his family business, which made little sense, since it didn’t appear he had any living family members and he usually spent his Christmases working.
“The Forbidden Fruit Club.” I tasted the name in my mouth, happy to change the subject. “Why did the owner decide to call it that?”
“It’s a twenty-four-hour-operation joint,” Tate explained, and I think it was the first time he’d acknowledged me directly in the entire three years we’d known each other. He was icy and expressionless, and there was something frightening about his eyes. They were so dead I couldn’t even figure out their color. “In the mornings and afternoons, it’s a place for finance people to fuck their lowly staff. Kind of a hotel, but with a restaurant and a happy hour. At night, it turns into the place with the best DJs in the world, crafted cocktails, and enough drugs to sink the Titanic.”
“It sounds like a horrible place.” I made a face.
“I know. I love it.” He wasn’t being sarcastic for a change.
“You said the owner is family. Who is it?” Rhyland cut into our conversation, and I wondered if he was jealous. I wanted him to be. Even though I recognized how pathetic it was.
“Like family,” Tate corrected. “And it’s a secret. I am actually quite good at keeping those. Right, Coltridge?” A sinister smile slashed his face.
I remembered Rhyland telling me after our hookup at Row’s restaurant that Tate’s date had caught us. Tate hadn’t breathed a word to anyone. Now was the first time I noticed.
“Whoever he is, he’s making a great buck,” Row mused, back to nuzzling into his wife’s neck.
“They sure do,” Tate said.