“Mr.Dolecki,” Jane hissed, thrusting Sandy into Greyson’s arms before grabbing meby the wrist. “Sebastian, you need to get a load of this guy.”
Shedragged me toward the back of the house, through a hallway and into a room thatshe’d told me Mr. Worthington used as a library. There, we found Tabby, perchedon the arm of a chair, giggling and talking with a man in what was undoubtedlya very expensive suit. The way he held his etched-glass tumbler, holding hishead up high and leaning over her with a crocodile grin, brought on animmediate sensation of dread. It manifested and coiled through my guts, uptoward my lungs, until I swore I could breathe fire.
Ididn’t realize it before. Didn’t know it until I knew his face. But holy hell, Iwasjealous.
“Tabitha!Look who’s here!” Jane announced, dragging me further into the room, closer to Tabbyand Mr. Fancy Pants.
Tabbyturned to look at me. Her hair was pinned up in a complicated-looking twist,her makeup was pristine, and her clothes were pressed and neat. She looked theway she had when I first met her, when all I had wanted to do was mess her up.Now, knowing what she was like without her clothes on, knowing her tattoo andnipple piercings, I wanted to wipe her face, undo her hair, rip those clothesoff, and yell at her that this wasn’t her. But he didn’t know any of that.
“Whatare you doing here?” she nearly gasped at the sight of me.
Withoutpermission, and without Greyson there to see, I wrapped an arm around hershoulders and pressed my lips to the top of her head. I gauged her body’sreaction as I gauged the flat expression on his face.
“Itold you we were coming tonight before going to Hershey tomorrow,” I remindedher, never taking my eyes off of him.
“Well,I’m work—”
“Tabitha.”He spoke with the refinery of someone who had grown up privileged. “Will youplease introduce me to your interesting companion?”
Interestingcompanion. I broke my staring contest with his face to assessmyself. Jeans ripped at the knees, sleeveless Metallica t-shirt, Chucks—did heknow abouthercollection of Converse?
Thecontrast between us was startling, I’d give him that. My hair was pulled up inits usual knotted bun, a wreck in comparison to the neat and tidy gelled lookhe pulled off with pompous pride. My beard was close-cropped and only a bitlonger than his, but not nearly as groomed. For fuck’s sake, the man lookedlike he had his eyebrows waxed, and the last time mine had seen any beautificationwas that one horrific night when my sisters attacked me with the tweezers.
“Sosorry, Roman,” Tabby rushed to remedy the awkward encounter. “This isSebastian, my nephew’s father. Remember I told you how Greyson lives with me?”
“Ah,yes,” Roman nodded thoughtfully, eyeing me up and down with a studiousjudgment. “I do remember. You’re the one who plays with drums, yes?”
Playswith drums. He had sneered the demeaning comment behind something I’msure he thought looked like a smile.
“Thatwould be me,” I extended a hand as I added, “And you’re the one who can’tdecide what you want to do, so you just doeverything, you littleentrepreneur, you.”
Hechortled condescendingly as we shook. “That’s cute. Very witty.”
“Sebastian,”Tabby cut in, turning her face upward to bore her eyes through me, “Roman and Iwere in the middle of a business meeting. So, if you could just wait outside, Iwould really appreciate that.”
Ismiled tightly, looking from her to Roman, as I nodded. “Right, of course.Pleasure to meet you, Roman.”
“Ah,yes, and same to you, Sebastian. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”
Youbet your ass you will. I turned, leaving the room with hostileintent. Jane and Greyson were waiting for me in the kitchen, Sandy still inGreyson’s arms.
“Well?”Grey asked. “What’s he like?”
“Fuckingdouche,” I assessed abruptly, the words tumbling out of my mouth as thoughthey’d been dying to be released. “What do you think, Jane?”
“Fuckingdouche,” she repeated, nodding.
“So,where’s Tom to toss his pompous ass out of here?”
“Itdoesn’t work like that,” Jane sighed sadly. “I have to wait for his magic towork. Maybe the bank will disapprove of his request for a mortgage—”
“Thatguy won’t have a mortgage,” I told her, shaking my head. “He’ll be paying incash.”
“Well,then maybe something else will happen. Another pressing matter, a naturaldisaster …” She shrugged helplessly.
Icould hear their terse laughter drifting through the house, nipping at my ears.What business meeting required him to lean into her the way he was? What couldthey be talking about, that made her giggle like that?
“Sebastian?”Jane asked, and I snapped out of my ill-fated reverie to find her and Greysonstaring at me.
