Chapter 26 #2
I guess I could hardly blame Gia. Presley was damn hard to resist. I was just the lucky bitch who got to claim him as mine.
Behind closed doors at least.
Boston leaned in, his hand brushing my lower back. He smirked at the way my stepbrothers all reacted to the touch. It was clear, though only to our small circle, that they seethed with jealousy; Boston was the only man able to touch me so freely in a public setting.
“Don’t worry, Firecracker,” Boston said low in my ear so only I could hear. “Gia can look all she wants. I signed a legally binding document telling the world I’m yours, and I don’t plan on breaking that.”
My breath caught at the easy admission, my eyes connecting with his. Pure sincerity stared back at me.
“I think this might be the first time I’ve seen Dempsey speechless.” Pres tilted his head at me. “What did you say to her?”
Boston stood tall, shifting away from me but only slightly. “All the filthy things I want to do to her.”
The guys all scowled in perfect unison.
“I love doing filthy things.” I took another sip of my drink, feeling the tension growing. “With all of you,” I added quietly so there was no chance of anyone nearby overhearing us.
That response seemed to placate them for now, but I knew I’d have work to do in the dark tonight to reassure each of them in their favorite ways exactly how I felt about them. And I’d enjoy every second of it.
“I need something stronger than this,” Sinclair declared, placing his champagne flute on the table behind us. “Who wants some decent liquor?”
Boston gave a nod, followed by Dacre. Presley shook his head, and I gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’m so proud of you.”
He smiled down at me in a look that was way too affectionate for this setting.
“Cool it,” Dacre warned. “Or you’ll have Byron in a rage.”
Pres pouted in my direction, making me smile.
“Things are about to get wild,” Sinclair said, rejoining the group and passing glasses of whiskey to Boston and Dacre.
He absently handed me a gin and tonic, while his eyes scanned the room.
I glanced down at the glass in my hand, touched that taking care of me in these small ways without me ever having to ask was something they all considered the bare minimum.
I never had to ask for what I needed, especially at these events; they anticipated it and provided it.
Even when that meant providing me with killer orgasms in the coat closet or stairwell.
Dacre sipped at the whiskey. “Why?”
Presley’s brows shot up when his gaze tracked across the room. “Because Byron’s ex-wife just showed up.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Your mom is here?”
Pres shook his head. “The wife between our mom and your mom.”
I gripped Boston’s shoulder, and he grunted like he was annoyed, but I knew he secretly loved it. The big brute was way more tactile than he let on. I shot him an amused smile, holding onto him for balance as I pressed up onto my tiptoes to get a look at Byron’s second wife.
She was nothing like I expected, mostly because she was nothing like my mother or Mona.
She had long, voluminous blonde hair that was clearly filled with extensions, and thick dark eyelashes that were the same.
Her yellow dress was short and tight, her breasts spilling out the top like two pillows.
Her nails were long, bright talons, and her heels were sky-high.
She was hot, but in a way that didn’t suit this location or lifestyle at all.
She looked completely at odds with the women here. Had she been this way when she was married to Byron? Or had she fallen in line with what he expected any wife of his to be?
Her presence was clearly causing a stir. Murmurs spread across the room despite the string quartet playing on the stage. A man came through the door behind her, and she looped her arm through the one he offered.
He was even less polished than she was. His brown hair was shaved at the sides and longer at the back.
His suit was clearly off-the-rack unlike most of the men here in their tailored designer situations.
Plus, this man’s suit was in desperate need of a press.
He was also sporting a thick handlebar moustache that screamed porn star.
It was clear they didn’t belong in a place like the exclusive Cape Canyon Country Club.
It was also clear they didn’t care.
“She’s twenty-five years younger than Byron and left him for a barista who used to work here,” Sinclair said.
His eyes tracked the pair as they moved across the room.
“Is that the barista?” Boston asked, nodding at the man on her arm.
Pres snorted a laugh. “Yep.”
It was clear Pres was going to enjoy every minute of whatever drama she’d shown up here to cause.
“What’s her name?” I asked, gripping Boston’s shoulder again in an effort to see over the people between me and the new couple.
“Giselle,” Dacre offered. “Pretty sure his name is Dan.”
Boston’s hand came around my waist to steady me, and I smiled gratefully at him.
The murmurs in the room picked up further, this time from the servers and bar staff too. It was clear they recognized Dan from his time working here.
Boston tilted his head to brush his lips across the back of my hand where I still clung to his shoulder. “Wonder what she wants.”
My stomach fluttered, a little stunned at the incredibly subtle, yet sweet display of affection from him. His mouth twitched at my surprised reaction.
Dacre made a noise low in his throat. “Here we go. She’s headed for Byron. This should be entertaining.”
Sinclair’s gaze narrowed slightly. “I think it’s best if we intervene.”
Pres shook his head. “Nope, I’m good.”
Dacre raised his glass to his mouth, pausing to stare at Sinclair like he couldn’t figure out if he was serious or not.
When Sin just stared back, Dacre sighed, knocking back his drink and discarding the glass. “Fine.”
“Can I come?” I asked, eager not to miss the drama, particularly when it was guaranteed to rile my mother.
“Of course,” Pres said, motioning for me to follow behind Dacre and Sin.
Boston’s broad form stayed close behind me as we moved through the room. There was something warm and comforting about his presence, something I wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge even to myself.
We made our way through the party, tracking Giselle and Dan as they made their way to the bar. They ordered shots, downing them quickly and replacing them with a drink each.
The moment Giselle clocked Byron and my mother was obvious. Her eyes narrowed and a smile spread across her face. She must have made a beeline for them while towing Dan behind her, because the two of them reached Byron and my mother before we could.
“Hello Byron,” Giselle said, her southern drawl both flirtatious and smug.
I pulled up short with Pres and Boston at my back, while Sin and Dacre moved to stand behind my mother and Byron.
“What are you doing here, Giselle?” Byron’s tone was flat and emotionless, as though he was neither surprised nor impressed by her antics.
“I’ve come to visit my most favorite ex-husband, of course! Miss me, darling?”
My mother gave a small sound of outrage beside Byron, and Giselle’s gaze fell on her.
She offered my mother her hand. “Lovely to meet you. I’m Giselle Bernard-Aston.”
My mother’s indignant scoff was so deeply satisfying, that if I were to drop dead right now, I’d die happy.
“How dare you steal my husband’s name like that,” my mother hissed. “I’m the only lady of Aston Manor.”
Giselle laughed. “You’re the lady of Aston Manor right now, but there have been several before you, honey.” Her eyes trailed up and down over my mother’s elegant form as if she wasn’t impressed. “And more than likely, there will be some after.”
My mother’s eyes darkened at the woman. I could see the war playing out inside her: on one side was the perfectly primped, perfectly poised Mrs. Beatrice Aston mask.
And on the other, good old Beatrice Falconer, who wasn’t afraid to get down in the muck.
I wondered what might happen if she finally let that dog off its leash.
Sadly, Byron intervened before it could happen.
“Let’s move this conversation into the parlor. We’re attracting unwanted attention.”
Glancing at the other attendees, it was clear that everyone was listening to the interaction between Giselle and my mother, while desperately trying to appear as though they weren’t.
Byron put an arm around my mother’s back and turned her towards an exit to the right, not glancing back to see if Giselle followed. Because of course she would. Byron controlled the money, which was surely what she sought by coming here.
Sin and Dacre followed the group and so did we. Boston opted to wait by the door, but the rest of us walked straight into the parlor with Giselle.
Byron frowned as though he wasn’t pleased with our presence, but he didn’t say anything.
“This is my boyfriend, Dan,” Giselle said, motioning to the porn-star moustache man. “You might recognize him from the bar, Byron. He used to make the espressos you drank before fucking that barely legal waitress you became obsessed with that summer.”
My mouth dropped open at the bombs Giselle was already dropping. My mother sucked in a scandalized breath, but I would guess that she was more shocked that someone would be so bold with Byron than she was about Byron’s indiscretion.
“How dare you make up lies about my husband!” my mother shouted.
I had to bite back a smile of glee. Beatrice Aston didn’t shout.
“That’s no lie,” Dan said, his tone dull. “I saw it with my own eyes more than once.”
“Okay, Peeping Tom,” Pres muttered beside me.
I shot him a look that said, ‘You’re one to talk.’
He pulled a face. “I like to watch you, not some random old dude at the country club get it on with a teenager.”
Now I pulled a face. “You’re talking about your father.”
He shrugged. “I told you the guy was an asshole. It’s not a surprise.”
“That’s enough,” Byron cut in. “I will not have you come back here slandering my name.”
Giselle gave him a pitying look, and I was really starting to like the balls on this woman.
“It’s not slander if it’s true, By-By. You know that.”
Byron’s face reddened, his eyes laced with fury.
She was pushing all his buttons. I wonder what he saw when he stared at her like he was now. Did he see how badly he was duped? The guys had told me how obvious it had been to everyone in Aston Manor that Giselle had only married him for his money, and she did little to hide that fact.
She sucked or rode his dick when required to secure herself the Rolls Royce she’d wanted or the five-star luxury vacations with twelve of her closest friends.
Byron’s tone was clipped now. “Why are you here, Giselle?”
Her face lit up. “Because you’re running for governor, honey! And that is a truly exciting development for everyone!”
Byron’s head was about to explode. He knew where she was going with this. We all did.
“Kinda seems like now would be a bad time to sell my story to the press, don’t you think? Especially those ones about the waitress who was only about eighteen and one week old.”
Silence hung over the room, Byron’s barely contained rage as he stared at his ex-wife palpable.
No one had forced him to marry her, as far as I was aware. He’d done that all on his own because he’d seen a pair of perky tits and sweet ass swanning by to serve him at the club and decided to tap that on a permanent basis.
Now he was the one being bitten in the ass.
“How much?” Byron bit out.
Giselle didn’t miss a beat. “Ten million.”
My mother let out a sound of scandalized outrage.
“Oh honey,” Giselle said, her tone laced with pity. “I should be asking for more. He can certainly afford it, and you have no idea the stories I could tell.” Her gaze shifted to Byron. “But he does.”
Byron’s jaw was locked so tight I thought he might combust.
“I’ll give you fifteen million to keep your stories to yourself for the rest of your life, and you never come back here.”
Giselle offered him her hand to shake, which he ignored.
“Pleasure doing business with you, baby. Have your assistant send over the NDA that I’m sure you’ll force me and Dan to sign.”
Dan slipped his hand in hers, the two of them grinning as they moved towards the door, seeing themselves out.
My mother rounded on Byron, a wobble in her tone. “You cannot pay that woman a single cent for making up lies about you!”
I rolled my eyes so hard I almost stumbled on the spot. Lies? Was she really that fucking delusional?
“It’s fine, sweetheart. I can afford it, and it means you’ll never have to see her again.” He placed an arm around my mother, placating here. “Let’s get back to the party and put this all behind us.”
Byron stopped next to Sinclair. “Tell Kesia I need to see her. Now.”
The look Sin gave him in return said very clearly that ‘I don’t work for you.’ Dacre took out his phone, presumably to text Kesia.
“She’ll meet you in the car on the way home,” Dacre said, placating his father.
They disappeared out the door and back to the ballroom.
Boston whistled long and low as he strolled to the middle of the room. “That was a masterclass in blackmail.”
“Giselle was always too smart for him,” Sinclair said, adjusting the sleeves of his dress shirt. “She puts on a good act, but that woman knows what she’s doing. She spent the entire time she was with Byron milking him of his money and collecting dirt on him.”
Dacre nodded. “Doesn’t matter what he makes her sign, she’ll be back again when it suits her.”
I was so glad I’d have a front row seat for the show.