by Jess Bentley
As I cross the foyer, I notice Brock and Royce in the bar. Royce raises a hand over his head and gestures to me to come over.
“It’s a little early for drinking, isn’t it, guys?” I ask as I approach, irritated to be pushed off course like this.
“Just coffee, boss,” Brock replies. “You want some?”
“Yeah… actually, that would be terrific,” I admit.
Royce gestures to the bartender and then points to a table for us to occupy. There are only a few people across the lobby, staring at their cell phones, shifting from foot to foot as they wait for someone.
The bar is deserted, but it’s not partitioned off. It’s merely an elevated platform to one side of the lobby, separate from the more formal bar in the restaurant and jazz club on the other side of the building. But we do spend a considerable amount of time here, observing our staff and their interactions with guests. Sometimes we greet dignitaries and celebrities here. We can watch everything from this vantage.
“What’s all this about?” I ask as the cappuccino is set in front of me. The smell is already wafting through my sinuses, reminding me how good our coffee is.
“How was Detroit?” Royce asks.
“Detroit was... fine. Ultimately fine,” I answer. “We got everything sorted out with no cost overruns.”
Royce raises his eyebrows, obviously pleased. He and I look a lot alike, favoring our father most of all. Spencer does too. We all have the same dark, wavy hair. Square jaws. Thick eyebrows. Until stubble came back in style, we all had to shave twice a day.
Not like Brock and Trey; they look like our mother. When we were younger, Mom called them her “golden boys.” They had the light hair, the light eyes. Not quite as broad, though still athletic and quick. They ran track, while Royce and I stuck to wrestling. They’re a few inches shorter than the rest of us, but still close to six feet.
Golden boys. Nobody’s used that nickname since she passed away. It went right to their heads.
“So that’s good?” Royce continues.
I take a drink of the cappuccino. I can feel it warming me all the way down to my stomach.
“Yes. It was good,” I repeat. “The casino guys would like to talk to us more. We can worry about that some other time.”
Royce and Brock look at each other.
“Okay… what is going on here? You guys didn’t invite me to drink coffee with you, did you?”
“It’s… Bunny,” Brock finally says, glancing at me and then away. “Do you think you could get around to interviewing her today?”
“The nanny? From August’s recommendation?”
“Nanny. Yes,” Royce repeats.
“And also… you know. More than that,” Brock adds.
They glance at each other again.
“Yes… I had some time to think about that too,” I confess. “Can we talk about this later? After I have had a chance to decompress a little bit?”
Brock leans forward. He places one hand, palm down on the table.
“What do you mean? You thought about it? And... what?”
“Jeez, you guys,” I sigh irritably. They’re really on my nerves this morning. I’m not a morning guy. “Give me an hour, would you? Let’s have lunch or something.”
Royce reaches a hand out and chucks Brock gently on the shoulder. Then he turns back to me with a completely reasonable expression on his face.
“It’s just that… well, she’s done very well. We all really like her, though Spencer hasn’t had a chance to talk to her yet. We’re leaning toward a yes. Just hoping you can expedite that for us.”
I can tell that Royce thinks using a business tone with me is going to sway me. Well, it’s not. It’s just making me more suspicious.
“And how is she with Sophia?”
Royce’s eyebrows go up. His face freezes.
Brock leans back in his chair so he can look at the reception desk for some reason.
“Uh-huh. I see,” I enunciate slowly. “So, what you’re telling me is that you guys are hot for her? And you didn’t even bother to check if her job—her main job—is something she’s able and qualified to do?”
“Well, you know… I mean, with the rules and all… I mean, we’re distracted,” Brock explains. “She’s hot. Super hot. And it’s been a really long time.”
I point at Royce. “You see what your rules have done? You see how ridiculous and irrational this is? You guys are so horny you didn’t even bother to check and see if the nanny could, you know, actually nanny?”
“We’re getting to that,” Royce grumbles, crossing his arms.
“Maybe you shouldn’t bother,” I remark. “Maybe the whole idea of nanny and shared girlfriend is never going to work out. Maybe we should separate those into different responsibilities. Can you think about that? We could each even find our own—”
Bang!
Royce’s hand lands like a foul expletive in the middle of the table. My cappuccino sloshes over the side.
“Absolutely not,” he growls between his clenched teeth. “We created this in order to protect Sophia. We all sacrifice a little bit… for her. That’s what good fathers are going to do. That is not up for discussion!”
“But we’ve been through this before, Royce,” I persist, lowering my voice and hoping that will calm him somewhat. “I mean, we asked Nina every question under the sun. We thought it would be fine. And then look what happened. At least if we found our own women, everybody’s heart wouldn’t all be broken at the same time.”
“I don’t think she’s like that,” Brock replies, shaking his head. The sincerity in his green eyes is appalling. Like, I feel bad for this guy.
“Jesus, what did she do to you guys?” I breathe. “Is she some kind of witch or something? I mean, she’s cute and all, but…”
“Just interview her,” Royce insists. He shakes his head as though sad or something. “You’ll see. Just talk to her for a little while. She’s not like anybody else. You’ll see.”
Look at these two. Can they really be totally gaga over this woman in just a day? Have they forgotten everything? How Nina threatened to take Sophia away from us? How she lawyered up without even talking to us, suggesting she was willing to do anything to get away?
Losing her was the single most painful thing that ever happened in my life, and I’m not even the most emotional brother. Royce took it hard. Spencer was sad but he understood it was final. But Trey and Brock were absolutely crushed. Crushed like teenagers. I can’t believe they want to risk it all again.
“Just talk to her, Sully,” Brock says in a low voice. “I’ll get her in with Sophia today. In fact, I’ll put it on a videoconference if you wanna pop in and take a look or something, okay?”
“That’s a good idea,” Royce agrees. “I guess you’re right, Sully, we got a little carried away. We should have had her and Sophia at least getting acquainted. But if we get that squared up, can you give her a chance?”
I stare into the silky brown surface of my cappuccino. Can I? Do I have more chances to give?
Is the alternative even worse? I mean, the whole reason that we put this all together was because we believed the alternative was worse. We believed that there was the distinct possibility that we could have ten to fifteen ex-wives among us by the time we were done. We could wipe out this entire fortune in one generation, just by thinking with our dicks. Other dynasties have done the same or worse.
And we had to really do some convincing. Everybody knew that sharing one woman was going to mean less individual attention. Unless she had eight arms and three pussies, that is, and we certainly haven’t found that.
But I can remember Bunny’s face, her keen expression and curious demeanor. She seems like the kind of woman who can take a challenge. Like she even seeks them out. And definitely not shy or virginal—that would never do. If August suggested her, he knows things about her that make her appropriate for this role. He even told me once that if he had had a chance to vet Nina, he could’ve s
aved us a lot of heartache, and about two million dollars.
And those eyes. There’s something about those big brown eyes.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt… to just talk to her some more,” I finally mutter. “After you have introduced her to Sophia. After you’re certain that she is acceptable for our daughter.”
“All right!” Brock hoots. I see a couple of business people glance over at us curiously.
“Totally fair,” Royce smiles. “And thanks. I really appreciate it. We can talk more about the casino stuff later, right?”
“Don’t blow smoke up my ass, Royce,” I snarl, getting up from the table. “You’re pushing your luck.”
Chapter 9
Bunny
When I wake up, it takes me a moment to realize where I am. The light through the window is pinkish-gray. The comforter I’m lying on is so thick it crawls halfway up my open legs.
Was I drunk? I’m not sure, but my mouth is really dry. I did have a good deal of alcohol in me… It must be seven or eight o’clock by now. I can’t believe I slept the rest of the day away.
Pushing myself to sitting, I squint to see the room. With the sun going down, everything seems charcoal-sketched. Artsy. The ornate mirror on the wall, the writing desk, the sitting area arranged just so. It’s all perfectly put together.
My muscles creak and complain as I try to slide off the end of the bed. I must not have moved, not even a little bit. The last thing I remember was…
Oh, yeah. Trey. That was terrific.
I can feel my cheeks bunching up as the smile creeps across my lips. Today was a very good day for me. Actually, the last two days. I like having a solid menu of sexy shenanigans to pick from. A little blowjob here, a little light fingering there, just a whole world of sexy potential.
That’s my kind of world.
Finally, my feet touch the floor and I curl my toes in the plush shag carpet. Fibers tickle my feet as I walk to the bathroom, snatching my cell phone from the end table on the way.
Wow, this is some kind of hotel. The bathroom is enormous, and it looks like it was carved out of a single alabaster slab. With fixtures in gold and crystal, I’m almost afraid to turn the water on. I don’t want to leave grubby fingerprints all over everything.
Come on, girl, you deserve this, I coach myself. Live a little.
Interestingly, the crystal is almost warm to the touch. The water seems silky as I splash it on my face.
Brushing my teeth is a relief, too, and I feel a hundred times better when my teeth and tongue are clean and slippery. My stomach rumbles slightly.
“Let’s go see about that dinner Trey promised us, shall we?”
I squint at the front of my phone, scrolling through my messages. The thrift store back home is having a sale. Dahlia checked in. And a number I don’t recognize…
First text: Hello, Bunny. Is that how you spell your name? You probably don’t recognize this number… It’s Trey.
Next text: I’m sorry I won’t be able to dine with you tonight. Family business. My deepest apologies.
Next text: I’ll see you soon, I hope.
Great. So what am I supposed to do, have dinner by myself? I thought these rich kids were supposed to have manners or something.
Dahlia’s text is nothing special. Just checking in, curious how I like Chicago, asking me to send her a picture. Then another text saying good morning and did I do anything fun last night…
Good morning? No.
Hold on.
It’s six thirty in the morning. What the heck happened?
First I want to panic, but then I realize I don’t have anything to panic about. There’s no job I’m late for here. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, just twelve hours later than I thought.
Dang, though. I really was looking forward to dinner with a billionaire. See what all the hype is about.
“Well, Bunny, I guess tomorrow’s a new day,” I tell the mirror, “and here it comes. Ready or not.”
Rather than take a shower right away, I decide to see if there’s a pool or anything in the hotel. I get my hair back in order and scrub the flaky mascara from under my eyes. Then I change into a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra and loose tank top. Swiping my key card from the table, I head out into the empty hallway, hoping for the best.
All of this is completely new to me. I guess I really was tipsy, because I do not remember this hallway at all. And this carpeting is so crazy, I’m sure it would have left an impression on me. It’s all zigzags and flowers, stretching for about a hundred feet to the elevator at the far end.
Strangely, I want to tiptoe. I want to hold my breath. I imagine there are people asleep behind all of these other doors, and I don’t want to disturb anyone.
In the lobby, businesspeople rush toward the exits, distracted by their cell phones. Some people wait in line to check out at the reception desk. Everyone here is so well-dressed, it’s like another world. Not like super-fancy, just like regular clothes... but better. People are wearing the designer stuff I always wanted from magazines. Better shoes. Non-knockoff handbags. Sunglasses that cost more than Dahlia’s car.
Crossing my arms over my chest self-consciously, I wait for a nice-looking lady to be available at the reception counter before walking up to her. She raises her eyebrows at me in a friendly, welcoming expression.
“Miss Bunny? Good morning. How can I help you?”
My smile freezes on my face as I try to adjust to the fact that everybody here seems to know who I am.
“Oh, I was just wondering, is there a workout room or something? Swimming pool?”
“Certainly,” she smiles, opening a brochure on the marble counter. She points to the photograph of the swimming pool with her gel-coated fingernail.
“I can show you,” comes a voice at my side.
I startle and glance up at him, momentarily confused. He looks like Royce, but different. Not as big as Sully. A little younger than Royce.
“Spencer Worth,” he says in a gentle voice, holding out his hand.
I shake his hand, smiling at how formal he’s being. Still, it’s very charming, the way he’s pretending not to know what I’ve been doing with his brothers.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I answer. “And it’s nice of you to offer to take me. Can we stop back at my suite so I can change clothes?”
Holding out a hand toward the elevator, he gestures for me to begin walking. I can feel various employees watching us as we cross the marble floor. When we are out of earshot, Spencer tips his head toward me without changing his pace.
“Actually, I’m very pleased to find you this morning. Would you like to meet Sophia?”
My heart jumps in my chest. Already?
Of course, already, I remind myself. That’s what I’m here to do!
“I mean, assuming you didn’t have concrete plans?” he continues politely. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but she’s always very easygoing in the morning. And I know that Sully was very interested for you to meet her.”
So they have been talking about me, I note to myself. Interesting! I wonder what else Spencer knows about me.
“No… I mean, that would be wonderful!” I assure him. “As a matter of fact, I really didn’t have any plans at all. I’m happy to have something on my schedule, and really excited to meet her. Is what I’m wearing okay?”
Just before we reach the elevators, he glances at me out of the corner of his eye. Though his face hardly changes, I can tell he’s enjoying looking at me.
“Absolutely,” he assures me.
The elevator goes all the way back up to the top floor, making me wonder just how many penthouses there are in this hotel. Spencer leads me down the hallway to double doors at the end and opens the right side, holding it so that I can enter.
“Magda?” he calls out. “Sophia has a visitor.”
The suite is beautiful, painted like an immense nursery. I suppose they decided this particular set of rooms would belong to Sophia alone.
“This is one of our largest suites,” Spencer explains in a low voice as though he read my mind.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, glancing at him. He definitely has a softer look than Royce. Like he’s more thoughtful, probably reads more books. Out of all of them, he looks the most like a romantic lead in a movie. The Ryan Gosling of the Worth brothers.
I hear a commotion in the far room and glance around. The room is pale mauve, with plush, oversized sofas. Several doors lead from this room, more than in my room. I imagine it’s a two-bedroom kind of situation instead of just the one.
Glass doors lead out onto a terrace, and from what I can see, there’s a small garden. That’s nice, to have a little bit of playground way up here in the sky. That does seem like a billionaire thing to do.
A door opens, and a middle-aged woman comes out, smiling broadly. Her hair is canary yellow, rolled into curls that tuck behind her ears. In her arms she holds a chubby, pink-cheeked baby who looks all around with bright, eager eyes.
“Good morning, Mr. Worth!” Magda wheezes.
Spencer seems to melt a little bit, walking forward with his arms out. When he takes Sophia, I can see the warmth in his eyes. He pauses to just stare at her for a few seconds before pivoting to show her to me.
“Sophia?” he says in a sweet, playful voice. “This is Bunny. Be sweet to Bunny, okay?”
Like a magnet, I’m drawn to her. I walk forward with my hands out, eager to get her into my arms. Spencer shifts, letting me slip my fingers under her little arms and lift her away from him.
“Oh, look at you!” I coo at her, noting that she’s not too sturdy just yet. Somebody said she was only four months old, so she still has a lot of things to learn.
“Can you sit?” I ask her. “Not yet? How about a little floor time?”
She smacks her lips at me and opens her mouth in a wide smile. She can’t sit, but she can sure charm!
I love the smell of her. She smells a little bit like a funky barnyard, but not in a bad way. Just in a real way. A deep hunger burns in my chest. If people weren’t watching me like hawks, I would just inhale her for five or six minutes, deeply.
