My eyes rise from our hands to the woman across from us who’s just stood up. Her mouth is puckered like she’s taken a hard suck on a lemon, hands fluttering over her white dress as she roughly brushes out nonexistent wrinkles in the fabric. I don’t understand what her problem with Stella is, but she’s not doing anything to endear herself to me.
And because sometimes I can’t resist the urge to stir a little shit, I lift the back of Stella’s hand to my mouth and press a lingering kiss to her skin.
“Shall we head inside, darling?” I ask, loud enough to be heard over the music—and by Daphne.
Delight flashes across Stella’s face as I stand and help her up. Does the action force Daphne to take a stumbling step back to avoid getting trampled by Stella’s stilettos? Perhaps. Do I care? Not in the slightest.
“You’re going to have to tell me the whole story about what’s going on with you and that woman,” I murmur to Stella as she slips past me in the aisle, making me the buffer between her and Daphne.
She snickers and tosses her hair, the black silk curtain tumbling across her shoulders. I get another hit of her scent when she does, tart and fresh. It suits her perfectly. “All you need toknow is that she’s another one of my cousins and a judgmental monster,” she whispers back. “And I’m pretty sure she sold the story about my wedding to the press.”
“In that case, she’s public enemy number one in my book.”
Stella’s laugh brushes over me like a caress. “Glad you’re on my team.”
Our linked fingers rest just above the lush curve of her ass as she leads me off the bus and through the doors of another hotel on the Strip. The familiar anxiety of being spotted creeps into my stomach, but it fades a little when Stella glances back at me, almost like she can sense my hesitance. Still, I’m tempted to let go of her hand; the last thing I need is to be publicly linked to anyone in the midst of the Lorenzo Castellucci drama. Stella doesn’t deserve it either.
Thankfully, the raucous crowd surrounding us acts as a shield, and any photographers would have to work hard to spot us through it, so I hold tight to her as our party is herded through the expansive lobby.
As we walk, I press close to her, wanting to pick up our conversation again. “Why is your cousin so rude to you?” I ask as we turn down a wide, shop-lined corridor.
Stella easily keeps up with my long strides, even in those wild heels that make her nearly as tall as me. “Daphne’s always been like that. One of those people who thinks if you don’t live life exactly like her, you’re doing it wrong. We’ve never gotten along, but Janelle keeps trying to convince me to give her a chance since we’re family.”
I almost snort. I know damn well blood can mean nothing, but I keep the comment to myself. “Janelle seems very kind,” I say instead.
And Ron’s a lucky man to have swung a woman like that, because the more I learn about her, the less I understand howhe pulled it off. The guy I knew growing up was practically a bully—but then again, so was my older brother, and now he just ignores me. Maybe some people do change.
“She is,” Stella confirms. “She’s sweet and softhearted. Biggest romantic you’ll ever meet. But she’s a shark in the courtroom. If you ever need a defense attorney in Georgia, she’s your woman.” There’s a pause before she hesitantly says, “Well, I…guess not anymore, considering she’s moving to London with Ron after their honeymoon.”
I can feel the dip in her mood, though she’s quick to beam up at me again, trying to mask it. Underneath it all, she’s not happy about Janelle giving up her career or moving to another country. Maybe both.
Or maybe it’s about something else entirely. I won’t pretend I know her—I met the woman barely two hours ago, even if being around her feels entirely too comfortable.
“Has she not already been living there?” I ask. I couldn’t say why I’m curious, but Stella and Janelle’s dynamic is unfamiliar to me. I have cousins, sure, but we barely know each other.
“She’s been splitting her time between there and Atlanta,” Stella explains. “And I live in DC, so it’s not like we see each other all that often, but…it’s going to be harder once she’s permanently across an ocean.”
“Planes exist,” I point out, flashing her a cheeky smile as I bump her elbow, compelled to cheer her up for some reason.
This time, her grin is far more authentic. “AndI’m rich enough to fly private.” She then sobers some. “But I won’t. Because I care about the environment.”
“Wow, someone better get you the Nobel Prize.”
“Thank you, I’m very deserving.”
As I stifle a laugh, we’re guided into a dimly lit restaurant. I keep my head down as we’re led past tables of other patronsuntil we reach a private room. There’s a crystal chandelier hanging low over a long table, which is outfitted with lavish place settings—and, unfortunately, place cards with names on them.
“Damn. Assigned seating,” I mumble, spotting Stella’s name at the end of the table, but mine is nowhere near it. “Think they’d notice if we switched around the cards?”
“Janelle absolutely would. She probably spent hours figuring out this seating plan.” Stella lets out a soft huff of fond amusement, and then her eyes swing up to mine again. “Can you bear being separated from me for eight courses?”
I heave a sigh, reluctantly letting her hand slip from mine. “It’ll be a struggle, but I’ll try.”
Her laugh draws eyes. Several sets of them linger, even from the men I know are married or in committed relationships, but I can’t blame them.
It’s unreal how beautiful she is. If she hadn’t already told me she’d modeled in the past, I would have guessed as much. With legs that long and bone structure that perfect, it would have been a waste if she’d never been in front of a camera. Even now, the fact that she doesn’t plaster her face across her storefronts around the world is a shame. This is a woman who deserves to be on billboards.
But a still photo couldn’t capture what she’s like in motion. It’s the way her full lips pull into a smile, or how her nearly black irises catch the light in such a way that it makes me wonder if there are actual sparkles in them. And I can’t deny that the way the silk of her dress clings to the curves of her hips when she moves just right has my trousers feeling a little tighter. She’s a dream come to life.
