“Maybe he’s a nice guy. You ever consider that?” Even if he is a nice guy, he’s way out of his league with this one.
“I’d be more inclined to believe that’s a pity date. Or maybe some weird setup. Maybe she owed someone a favor.”
“Why do you even care?” I glance over at Rian, now sitting alone at her table. I almost feel bad for the poor guy. He doesn’t look like he has the balls to manage her. I won’t be the least bit surprised if he had to go to the bathroom to deal with a woody. I’m halfway there and I’m not sitting across from her, getting the full impact of that dress’s neckline.
I thought she looked great in workout gear, but it had nothing on this dress she’s wearing tonight. The hot-pink fabric conforms to every luscious curve, and the deep V highlights the globes of goodness underneath.
“Because that little eye contact thing between the two of you could set an entire forest on fire. There is zero chemistry between that woman and that guy, but the two of you, zing!” Amalie snaps her fingers a few times, drawing several people’s attention. She bites her lip and sinks down in her seat, lowering her voice, likely so she doesn’t attract any more unnecessary attention with her enthusiasm. “You two might as well be shooting lust rays at each other. And that dress is gorgeous. I wonder where she got it. Lex would love it.”
Lex, otherwise known as Lexington Mills, son to Harrison Mills, the owner of one of the most renowned hotel chains in the world, is my sister’s fiancé. He bravely asked her to marry him a month ago.
Amalie glances down at the classy, sophisticated dress she’s wearing and frowns. “I don’t know that I have enough boob to fill that out the way she does, though.”
“I’m your brother, don’t talk to me about your—” I make a few random gestures in the direction of her upper body.
“You’re so uptight sometimes.” She leans in closer and lowers her voice. “So give me the scoop. I want to know why that woman keeps trying to kill-fuck you with her molten-lava stare.”
In low tones, I give her the abridged version of the parking lot hit-and-run, the grocery store, and our coffee date. I leave out the fact that I relentlessly antagonized her for a date, until I found out she’s seeing someone. That this guy is a better option than me is almost offensive.
“Oh my God. There are two of her?”
“They don’t look exactly the same, but pretty close.”
“Wow. Too bad this one has a boyfriend. Or whatever he is.” She raises a finger, eyes lighting up. “But if they look almost the same, maybe her sister’s a viable dating option.”
“Her sister is the one who hit my car and drove off. Why would I be interested in her?”
“Hmm.” Amalie taps her lip. “Good point. Well, based on the complete lack of fireworks between those two, and the way she keeps looking at you, I’d say you might have a chance with her.”
I lean back in my chair and drag my eyes away from Rian, who is, in fact, glaring at me. Although, to be fair, I’ve been checking her out rather shamelessly since we sat down. “She’s looking at me like she wants to punch me in the dick, and she’s on a date.”
“There’s a fine line between hate and lust. And that date is clearly not an even match. What do you want to bet she’s one of those gorgeous women who doesn’t actually realize how beautiful she is, so she dates down?”
“Maybe she’s dating him because he drives a nicer car than she does.”
“Doubtful.” Amalie flips through the menu. “Oooh, I think I want lobster tonight. I’m buying, by the way.”
“Oh, hell no. There’s no way you’re paying. I invited you out for dinner; I’m paying, little sister.”
Amalie sets down her menu and bats her lashes. “It’s not up for debate, Pierce. I just got a promotion and a raise, it’s my treat.”
I can give her that. I’m not used to letting her, or any other woman I take out, foot the bill. It annoyed the hell out of me that Rian tacked the four seventy-five onto the check for the paint repair, which is crazy since she haggled me down 20 percent. It’s not as if I need to cash the check, anyway. “Fine, you can pay. How’s Lex handling that?” I sip my craft brew, enjoying the hoppy, bitter flavor.
“My promotion?”
“Yeah. You’ll be working more hours, won’t you?”
“I’ll actually be putting in fewer hours. And I have two days a week where I can work from home, so it’s a good transition.”
“Didn’t he want you to come work for the Mills Hotels?”
She twists a lock of hair around her finger. “He would set up a desk beside his in his office if he could, but I really enjoy what I’m doing right now. I love him, but I don’t know how productive I’d be working in the same office. We’ll see what happens in the future. I need some time to be engaged before I go switching jobs again.”
Prior to her current job, she worked for her ex-husband’s family—in the magazine division of their massive media corporation. It’s understandable that she’s a little sketchy about working with her fiancé’s family.
“How are things with you and Dad?” She looks like she wants to hide behind her menu for asking.
I shrug. “They are what they are. As far as the firm is concerned, I’m just taking a few months off.”
She bites her lip. “Mom says he’ll get over it.”
“Eventually. In a decade or so, I’m sure he will.” I fucked up recently. In a very big way. The fact that my sister is actually speaking to me is a miracle. I feel horrible about the error I made and how it’s affecting her.
Her nose wrinkles. “Have you seen the dolls? The ones that company came out with?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” I’d like to bleach my brain and erase the visual forever.
My father is the creator of Amalie Dolls. They’re those horrible plastic dolls with the strange blinking eyes that little girls like to play with. But they’re not regular dolls, they have a chip and now, with modern technology, an app. You can program them to interact. It’s so weird what sells, and for almost twenty years they’ve been incredibly popular.
The basis for them had been my sister, obviously. Over time, as Amalie grew up, the line grew with her, morphing into something far more expansive than a single blond, blue-eyed doll in the image of my sister. There are Amalie Dolls of every ethnicity, hair color, eye color, and skin tone. You name it, it exists.
Earlier this year, my father decided he wanted to broaden the market and make “life-sized” Amalie Dolls. In all honesty, the move was a bid to keep the Amalie Doll trend alive. For the past several years, despite the continued attempts at expansion and new developments, sales have been slowly, if not steadily, falling.
I work as a partner in the law firm my father hired to manage his business. After college, I went to law school, because that’s what my father wanted me to do, never mind that I had zero interest in law. I specialized in patents, because again, that’s what my father felt would be best for my future with the company. I’m very detail oriented. Most of the time. Except when I was pushing the paperwork on this one through, I was a little distracted. It was right at the same time my brother, Lawson, decided we needed to jump on buying the house I’m currently renovating. He’s a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants guy, so it was all very last minute. I’d pulled a couple very late nights, so I was light on sleep and prone to making mistakes. Usually they aren’t quite this big, though.
While I’m good at my job, I didn’t have to put in a lot of years or time to earn my partnership in the firm. When your family drops millions into legal counsel, there’s incentive to make them happy, and me being a partner made my father happy. It also means that I’m responsible for his account and not a whole lot else. Nepotism at its finest.
So I should be able to manage the few accounts I handle. I should’ve paid more attention to the wording in the patent, but because I missed one crucial detail, things went sideways. A porn company found a loophole in the patent, and the life-sized dolls took a very
different, very X-rated turn. Hence the reason I have some time off while that mess gets sorted.
“You have to admit, the dolls were a genius move on their part.” Her eyes light up with mischief. “I might get one for Lex before they’re pulled from the shelves.”
I’m sure my face must reflect my horror. “Dad would lose his mothereffing mind if you did that. You can’t support the company that turned a children’s toy into a blow-up sex doll.”
Amalie rolls her eyes, as if I’m an idiot for even suggesting this. “You make it sound so much worse than it is. Besides, how would he find out if I bought one? It’s not like he has access to my credit card statements.”
“I don’t know how you can be okay with dolls that look like you being used for personal pleasure.” The thought actually makes me nauseous.
“They don’t really look like me. They’re just blond-haired and blue-eyed blow-up dolls.”
She’s wrong about that. Those dolls look eerily like my sister, which is why I was so disturbed when I discovered what had happened with the patent. Wording is always paramount.
“Anyway, enough about that. How are things going with Lawson? Is he driving you crazy yet?”
I laugh at that. “He’s a hard one to rein in sometimes, but so far it’s been fun.” Particularly the renovation part.
Amalie smiles. “Good, I’m glad to hear that. He needs somewhere to focus all that energy, doesn’t he?”
“He sure does.” My younger brother has lots of ideas and not a lot of direction. Like me, he works for our father, except on the marketing side of things. Mostly it’s him posting pictures of the damn dolls on social media, and coming up with ways to push the app.
In his spare time, which he seems to have a lot of, he’s been dabbling in the real estate market for the past few years, specifically in the Hamptons, where he lives year round. Since going on hiatus, I’ve taken on a more active role in the renovation side of his venture, where I’m able to foster the more practical aspect of my detail-oriented skill set.
Hands-on has always been where I excel the most. Back in high school I loved reading blueprints and seeing how things fit together. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an approved career path. Not when my father had worked so hard to take us from lower middle class to elite. When Amalie was born, we lived in a tiny three-bedroom house. By the time she was six, we lived in a mansion.
“We’re supposed to sell a property I’ve been working on this weekend.” I’m actually pretty excited to see what it will go for.
“Will you reinvest in another one?”
“That’s the plan.”
Amalie tilts her head a little. “You really like this, don’t you?”
“Yeah. It doesn’t even feel like work.” At first the time off from the firm felt like a punishment, but then I started working with my brother, getting my hands dirty, but in a good way. “As much as I don’t like that Dad’s still pissed at me, I think my screwup might not be the worst thing in the world.”
“Have you thought any more about talking to Dad about this?”
I have discussed my unhappiness with my career path more times than I can count with Amalie. “I don’t think now is a good time.”
“It’ll never be a good time. You can’t spend your life doing something you hate.”
“I can’t really afford to do what I’m doing if I lose my trust or my shares in the company, though, so I can’t quit either.” Jesus. We’re such spoiled brats.
Amalie frowns. “Dad wouldn’t pull your trust or take your shares.”
“He’s threatened it before.”
“When you were screwing around in college, being a frat boy. This is different. I’m not working for the family business and I still have my trust and my shares,” she says with a raised eyebrow.
“You’re the reason the company exists in the first place. It’s different for you. Anyway, we’ll have to see how things go this summer, and if this can be more than a hobby. For now it’s a good break if nothing else.” The server delivers our appetizers, saving me from further discussion on this subject. I spear a few leaves of lettuce. Amalie has calamari and it smells fantastic. My salad smells like garlic. “Can we share?”
“Having healthy-choice remorse?”
“Not if you’re willing to let me steal a few of those.”
She pushes a few to the edge of her plate, specifically the ones that look like tiny octopi. “These ones always freak me out. You can have them.”
“So generous.” I steal her fork out of her hand and eat the ones she’s already speared.
“Hey!”
I hear an indelicate snort from my left and glance over. Rian is still alone. Maybe her date isn’t coming back. I revel in the joy of that possibility as I take another moment to appreciate her. She has a nice neck, long, slender, and her hair is pulled up away from her face, highlighting her cheekbones and the delicate line of her jaw. When I reach her face, I find her glaring at me.
Man, she looks pissed off. Maybe because I keep staring.
She slaps her napkin on the table and pushes her chair back with a loud scrape. She smooths her dress out, squares her shoulders, and takes four long strides, stopping in front of our table.
My grin widens as she gets right up in my personal space, one fist propped on her curvy hip. Her height puts her chest close to eye level—okay, I still have to look up a bit—but I’m forced to lean back in my chair to make eye contact.
“Hi again,” I offer by way of greeting.
“You!” She points a shaking finger at me.
I glance at my sister, who has set her silverware down to watch whatever is about to go down. Her smile is almost a smirk. It’s an expression we share since our mouths are the same.
Rian turns her attention to my sister and takes a deep breath, plastering on a strained, but somewhat piteous smile. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner, but I feel it’s only right to warn you that your date is an a-hole.”
I’m not sure if she’s censored because we’re at a restaurant, but I think it’s pretty cute.
Amalie’s grin widens, showing off her perfect, white-toothed smile. Her nose crinkles, and she directs her next statement at me. “I love her already.”
Rian’s brow furrows, her confusion obvious as Amalie turns back to her.
“He really can be an asshole, but I assure you, he can also be very sweet. When he feels like it.”
“I find that hard to believe, considering he’s been messaging me all week until about two days ago asking me on a date, and he’s been eyeing all the women in this restaurant,” she says with faltering accusation. “Which is … ridiculous since you’re absolutely gorgeous. Like a Barbie doll. And I mean that as a compliment—”
“Untrue,” I cut in. I like how defensive she is of a woman she doesn’t even know, although she’s wrong about me eyeing every woman in the restaurant. I’m solely focused on her.
Her angry gaze cuts to me. “Are you serious? What the heck is wrong with you? She could be a model and your eyes are all over the place. And you’ve been asking me out relentlessly!” She snaps her fingers in my face. “You are unbelievable! I mean, I know this dress is a bit”—Rian makes flailing motions and then tries to hide some of her cleavage—“but that’s not an excuse!”
“Oh, you have every right to show those off.” Amalie nods her appreciation, which I echo silently.
I bark out a laugh. “You’re not helping here, sister.”
Rian’s head whips around, her mouth opens and then clamps shut with a click of her teeth. She blinks a few times. Her cheeks flare red. “Sister?” It’s a tiny, mortified whisper.
“Mmm. You don’t see the family resemblance.” I gesture between Amalie and me. Really, it’s only our smiles that are similar. “Rian, meet Amalie, my baby sister. Amalie, meet Rian. Her twin ruined the paint job on my Tesla and fled the scene a couple of weeks ago. I mistook Rian for her last week and said a few things that may have painted me in an
assholish light.”
“Shocking,” Amalie deadpans. She extends a hand to Rian. “If it makes you feel any better, Pierce treats his car like it’s his girlfriend, since he doesn’t have a real one.”
A hint of a smile appears as Rian takes Amalie’s offered palm. “That’s outrageous. He seems like such a catch.”
Amalie’s grin grows wider and she turns to me. “I really, really love her.” Still holding Rian’s hand in hers, she asks, “Are you single?”
Rian’s eyes go wide. “I’m on a date. And I like men. A lot.”
Amalie throws her head back, laughing. “I like men too. A lot.” She lifts her ring-clad hand and wiggles her fingers, the diamond-wrapped one glinting in the sun. “I’m not asking for me.” She inclines her head in my direction in the least stealthy head nod ever.
“I already have a date.” She gestures behind her.
Amalie frowns at the empty table. “Hmm. That’s a complication. I suppose Pierce is someone to consider in the future if this current date doesn’t work out.” She releases Rian’s hand.
“Uh, right.”
“Rian?” Shit. Her date is finally back.
All three of us turn to find him standing behind her. I have a moment to better assess him. I guess he might be okay looking, in an I-work-in-a-cubicle-with-no-sun-ever kind of way. His pallor is pasty white, and he appears to be sweating. Why is she dating this guy?
“Oh, Terry! I, um … you’re back! I was just saying hello.” She motions to us, her cheeks flushing again.
He gives us a nod of acknowledgment, then his eyes roll up and he blows out a breath. “I, uh … I’m not feeling very well. I probably should’ve cancelled. I went for Mexican at lunch with some colleagues and my digestive system is sensitive—” His explanation is interrupted by a loud gurgle.
Rian takes a cautious step back. “Oh, that’s … unfortunate.”
“I’m so sorry. I was really looking forward to our date. And your dress is … wow. But with pants this light, there really is no margin for error. I should’ve worn brown or black. Even dark gray would’ve been okay since I had the enchiladas. I need to go. Now. I have to … I’ll call you?” And with that, Terry turns tail and basically sprints back the way he came, one hand over his mouth, the other on his ass.
I Flipping Love You Page 5
