21. Kent
Chapter Twenty-One
KENT
“You were wonderful tonight, Darling,” I say as we approach my penthouse door.
Liz was flawless at dinner. Not that I’m surprised. Once she turns on her charm, it’s easy to fall for anything she says. Despite having to lie through my teeth at my brothers, I had a lovely time.
Mick or Beau didn’t suspect a thing. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought Liz and I were a real couple too.
There’s something about pulling this whole thing off that gives me a boost to my already inflated confidence.
It gives me a sense of control in my situation, and I feel unstoppable.
“You don’t have to call me that. No one’s around,” she says, folding her arms and waiting for me to unlock the door.
“Yes, but I’ve become quite used to it, Darling,” I tease, though somehow the common pet name has become second nature as words can do when you begin using them ironically.
I open the door to my penthouse and music spills out into the foyer followed by raucous laughter. Is Dahly entertaining? Liz and I share an apprehensive look as we proceed further inside.
In the living room, the Christmas tree beams bright with holiday cheer while Dash and Dahlia, in a laughing fit, each grasp onto nearly empty wine glasses. Two open bottles sit on the coffee table. And one of them is already done for.
“What’s going on here?” I ask, unbuttoning my wool coat.
“Since you were on a double date, Dash came over to keep me company. And we are having a fabulous time, aren’t we, Dashy?” Dahlia says.
“We are, Dahly.” Dash clinks his glass to hers. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they seem a little salty about being left out of our dinner plans.
“How much longer will you two be at it?” I ask while Liz hovers in the corner almost like she’s waiting to see if it’s safe to enter.
“How much longer will you two be at it?” Dash mocks my party-crashing tone, but I can tell the wine’s gone to his head, and he’s egging me on about the faux engagement. Did he tell her? I flick a glance at Dahlia, but she just giggles like all’s well in the world.
I pat Dash on the shoulder. “Shall I call your driver?”
“No, I think I’ll stay the night.”
“What?”
Dash sets his glass down, wobbles to his feet, then proceeds toward Liz. “And this must be the famous fiancée.”
“Yes, Dash meet Liz. Liz, this is Dahlia’s brother Dash.”
“Nice to meet you,” she offers her hand but still seems a little unsure about the situation. Either because my cousins have crashed my penthouse and raided my wine cellar or because Dash has declared he’s staying. It’s not like we need another Bonnaire in the penthouse.
“Likewise. Congratulations on your engagement,” Dash says.
“Thank you,” she says.
Dash’s gaze flicks between Liz and me like he wants to say something else. Something he shouldn’t. Then he examines Liz from head to toe. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a young Rita Hayworth?”
Liz just smiles and says, “I’ve heard it a couple of times.”
“Let me call your driver,” I offer again.
Then Dash turns to me and gets close, lowering his voice. His breath reeks of Merlot. “Listen, mate, I can’t go home tonight. I’ll sleep in your office.”
I don’t even have to look at Liz’s face to know her eyes are bulging and burning into me. I can’t remember the last time I hosted so many house guests. Why all of a sudden does it feel like my penthouse is bursting at the seams? “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Of course it is.” Dash pats me on the shoulder and begins heading down the hall. “Goodnight everyone!”
Dahlia replies with a drunken goodnight, and I follow after him.
“Hey, hey, Dash. What are you doing?”
“I’m going to bed. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You can’t sleep in there. I’m sleeping in there. Liz has my bedroom. Can’t you sleep with Dahlia?” I ask.
Dash sneers. “Gross, mate.”
“What? She’s your sister.”
“Exactly.”
“And you’re gay.”
Dash pats my shoulder and leans in. “Trust me. That doesn’t make it okay.”
“Dash, you can’t stay here. You have to go home,” I argue.
“I’m not going home. Charles is there. And he’s being a complete tosser.
” Dash and Charles’ lovers’ quarrels are the reason Dahlia’s staying here too.
Charles is definitely on my shit list at the moment.
I don’t know why Dash puts up with him. He continues in a hushed voice, “So tonight, you’ll allow me to crash on your sofa. And I will keep your little secret.”
Liz comes marching in behind us. “Kent, can I talk to you for a sec?”
Our grandmother’s ring on Liz’s finger catches Dash’s eye. “Nice ring,” he says. “See you in the morning.”
“No, wait, Dash,” I call after him, but he doesn’t stop. He just keeps on down the hall, into my office, and slams the door shut.