Chapter 16 Bianca
BIANCA
I shrink back into my chair at Harrison’s question.
It’s one I get often.
My sister casts a huge shadow, and people don’t mean to imply that she dominated my childhood when they ask the question.
But that’s exactly what Rouge did.
Daddy’s little angel. The one he groomed her entire life to replace him as the owner of Aces Underground.
And then there was me. The spare.
The little girl who wanted to be an actress on Broadway.
The child whose dreams were too big for her.
“My relationship with my sister was always…complex,” I say.
Understatement of the century. On the one hand, I owe my entire lifestyle to Rouge. I wouldn’t be living in a luxury apartment in the Loop if not for my job at Aces. Rouge pays me well, and that’s before factoring the extra money I make offering myself to patrons.
After everything that went down with Reflections, her phone call was a damned godsend.
To have a full-time job as a singer, perks and benefits included, is almost unheard of even among the elitest of the elites in the acting world. Technically speaking, I’m an independent contractor, but being a member of my family does have some advantages.
And let’s be real. The only reason I got the job is the DNA I share with Rouge Montrose.
That’s not exactly true. She would have no qualms about releasing me from my position if I didn’t deliver every night. My connections got me in the door, but my talents kept me inside the club’s walls.
But I’m not sure if all that makes up for what Rouge did to me when we were kids.
Suffice to say that she was a holy terror.
There are gaps in my memory—I was so young—but what I do remember is horrific.
Rouge is six years older than I am. She knew what she was doing to me was wrong.
But…she was still a kid. Kids do terrible things to each other all the time without ever thinking about the long-term consequences of their actions.
As an adult, my sister has been overbearing, controlling. But she’s an absolute saint compared to how she treated me back then.
“Complex?” Harrison says. “That’s a loaded word if I ever heard one.”
“It is,” I say.
I have no idea how else to respond. Luckily, Hans saves the day, rolling up with our oysters in tow. He sets a large silver tray between us with theatrical pomp and circumstance. Crushed ice glitters beneath the shells.
“To your left, the Emperor’s Flight,” Hans says. “And to your right, the Black Pearl Reserve—tonight’s selection comes from a private tidal lease off the Oregon coast, harvested just this morning.” He then presents the bottle of Muscadet. Harrison nods, and Hans pours a taste.
Harrison swirls, sips, and smiles. “This will be perfect. Thank you.”
Hans smiles, filling our glasses. “Would you like any assistance with the oysters?”
Harrison speaks before I can answer. “I’ve got her covered.”
“Of course, sir. Let me know if there’s anything you need.” Hans vanishes into the background.
I take a steadying sip of wine. It’s dry, crisp, and a little briny. I stare at the half-dozen glistening shells in front of me. “What’s our first move?”
Harrison leans in, elbows resting on the white tablecloth. “It’s not too complicated. Let me show you.” He selects one of my oysters carefully. “This is a Beausoleil. East Coast.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is it supposed to be so…wet?”
“They’re meant to be messy.” With a grin, he hands me the oyster, guiding my fingers around it. “Tilt it, don’t slurp it. Let it slide. No chewing, unless you really want to taste the nuances.”
“Nuances?”
He chuckles. “Each oyster has its own personality. The Beausoleil? Gentle. The Shigoku over there?” He points to another. “That one is going to have more edge.”
I hesitate with the oyster halfway to my lips. “And what if I hate it?”
He shrugs. “Then we drink more wine and try again. It’s not about liking all of them. It’s about discovering which ones are worth savoring. Worst case, we can always order something else. I won’t have my date going hungry.”
“Fair enough.” I pause, staring the oyster down.
“You’re stalling.”
“I’m savoring the moment,” I reply. “Just like you told me.”
He gives a quiet laugh and lifts his own oyster. “Together?”
I nod and bring the shell to my lips. It’s cool, smooth, and strange. Then I tip it back.
Salt. Cream. A tiny flicker of something bright and metallic. The taste of the ocean, but silkier. A whisper of citrus and something floral. And then it’s gone.
I blink. “That was actually really good.”
“Mine, too,” Harrison says. “This place is great.”
It’s not long before we’ve finished both of our platters.
Every single oyster was delicious in its own unique way.
It took a second for me to get used to the consistency, but the taste was unlike anything I’d ever eaten before.
I can’t believe I’ve been alive for nearly four decades and am just now trying these for the first time.
I’ll certainly be coming back to Brassica Rex soon.
And I hope it’s on Harrison O’Rourke’s arm.
He’s so effortlessly charming. He even makes eating oysters sexy.
In fact, I couldn’t help but notice how warm I was getting between my legs as he worked his way through every shell just now.
There’s something almost animalistic about the way he was slurping down each oyster. Kind of how he sucked between my legs…
We’ve already had sex, so it doesn’t matter that it’s our first date, right? We can repeat the act.
Hell, I sell my body to the highest bidder most nights at Aces. I’m not exactly a prim and proper goddess of virtue.
Harrison is a man. He certainly won’t say no to sex if I offer it to him.
But something in me wants to play a little. Act a little coy, see if he pursues me.
I grab my purse and get to my feet.
“Going somewhere?” Harrison asks.
I walk over to him and lean down so I can whisper into his ear. “Just going to powder my nose.” I dart my eyes around quickly to confirm that no one is looking, and then I nibble his earlobe gently.
He shudders, and I saunter away to the ladies’ room.
Hoping that he’ll pick up on my hint.