Getting Down

by Helena Hunting

  I look around for Bane’s brothers, expecting the entire family to be here, as seems to be typical whenever dinner is arranged. Bancroft’s oldest brother, Griffin, is across the room, close talking with his fiancée, Imogen. I don’t see Lexington. Maybe he’s not coming. Not that it matters. Actually, it’s probably better if he isn’t here since his presence seems to put Armstrong in a bad mood.

  “Oh! Yay! You’re finally here!” Ruby leaps across the room. Her cheeks are rosy. I imagine this means she’s been imbibing. “Come with me to the kitchen! We’re making the coolest drinks! Well, I’m not making anything, but you need to see this.”

  “Don’t let her drink the red shots,” Bane calls after us, “I don’t want to have to carry her to the car tonight!”

  Ruby blows him a kiss as we pass.

  The kitchen isn’t bustling with people prepping food, because that happens in the chef’s quarters. The Millses are beyond rich. They own one of the most luxurious hotel chains in the world. There’s an industrial kitchen beyond the “normal kitchen,” which is bigger than my entire apartment, probably twice over.

  Everything is stainless steel and state-of-the-art. And in the middle of the massive, gorgeous kitchen, standing behind the island, is Lexington.

  He’s wearing a black dress shirt and a plaid tie. It’s a very strange combination, oddly lumberjackish, but in a hipster kind of way. And it’s impossible not to look at. It’s also very difficult not to notice the tattoo peeking out of his rolled-up sleeve. Armstrong would never get a tattoo, but I think it has more to do with his fear of needles than his actual dislike of body art.

  Ruby lets go of my arm and shrieks, bouncing her way across the kitchen over to where Lexington is busy making drinks. And not just any kind of drinks; Halloween-inspired ones.

  He watches her with amusement, his gaze shifting briefly to me. And then it moves over me. Slowly. The right side of his mouth turns up and we make eye contact. It’s short lived. Which is good, because the way he’s looking at me feels rather inappropriate. I look down, checking to make sure my dress isn’t showing anything it’s not supposed to. Nope. Everything is as it should be.

  She hugs his arm and grins broadly. “Look at all the cool drinks Lexy made!”

  He looks down at her with an arched eyebrow. “Uh, no.” At her confusion he gives his head a shake. “We’re not adding a y to the end of my name so you can feel better about having one at the end of yours.”

  Ruby’s smile turns evil. “Isn’t that what Brittany calls you?”

  “Please do not bring her up. Especially around Mimi. Maybe just not ever, actually.”

  “Isn’t that who Bancroft brought to my engagement party?” I ask, just so I can feel like part of the conversation I suppose.

  That brings Lexington’s attention back to me. “Yeah. Apparently, that doesn’t mean she’s undateable in this family.”

  “I hear she likes lollipops, a lot,” Ruby snickers.

  Lex makes a face. “Yeah. Well, I’d like to keep my lollipop as far away from her as humanly possible. Are you going to try one of these or are they just for people to look at?”

  Ruby points to one layered with yellow at the bottom, orange in the middle, and white at the top. “What’s this?”

  “Exactly what it looks like, candy corn.” He hands Ruby the glass and she sniffs it before she takes a small sip.

  “Oooh! This is amazing. Amie, you need to try something!” Ruby elbows Lex in the arm. “Give her something yummy.”

  “I’ve got lots of yummy things. Which one would you like?” he asks.

  It takes me a moment to realize he’s not being inappropriate. Why is my brain turning everything into something dirty? I gave myself an orgasm before Armstrong picked me up. I gave myself three actually.

  In the time since I revealed to Ruby my lack of Armstrong-given orgasms, I considered that maybe I’ve been overthinking things, and the lack of orgasms has nothing to do with Armstrong and everything to do with me. So I took the pressure off of both of us. Except my mind is still clearly hanging out in the gutter, and enjoying being there.

  “How about a Vampire Kiss?” Lexington pushes a martini glass toward me.

  “Um, sure?” The concoction is rimmed with something pink and a set of fake black vampire teeth are poised on the side. It’s really rather creative. I take a small sip. It’s also rather delicious.

  “Amalie.” Armstrong’s arm wraps around my waist. “I’ve been looking all over for you. My mother wants to go over details with you and Ruby about the charity event. Something about picking a theme for costumes.” He runs his nose up the side of my neck. “Lexington. I didn’t expect you’d be here tonight.”

  “It’s my family. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

  “I just thought you’d be away on business. Or out doing whatever it is you usually do. Sampling leftovers, that kind of thing.” Armstrong plucks the glass from my hand and sniffs it. “What is this?”

  “It’s a Vampire Kiss. Lex made it.”

  “Shouldn’t the bartender be doing that?” Armstrong takes a sip, then dumps the rest down the drain.

  “I liked that!”

  “It has too much sugar in it. Come, Amalie, we’ll get you a glass of champagne.” He keeps a firm grip on my waist and steers me in the direction of the sitting room.

  I look over my shoulder, shooting an apologetic look at Lex, who’s scratching his forehead with his middle finger. I really hope that’s not directed at me. I mouth help me to Ruby before we round the corner and I’m forced to contend with Armstrong’s horrible mother alone. Ruby better do her job and save me, since this entire thing was her idea in the first place.

  Chapter 6: Boyfriend Auction

  Ruby

  “Why is he always such a dick?” I mutter.

  “That’s a rhetorical question, right?” Lex downs a shot and then a second one. “You’ve met my aunt. I’m sure the answer to that is quite clear.”

  “But Fredrick is a nice guy. Or at least he seems nice.”

  “Appearances can be rather deceiving, though, can’t they?”

  I don’t have a chance to ask what that means because Bancroft pokes his head in the door. “I think you should come out here and help save your friend from being tortured.”

  I sigh, but take my candy corn cocktail with me to the sitting room where Amie is trapped between Bancroft’s mother and Armstrong’s mother.

  “Ruby!” Mimi beckons me over. “We’re debating the theme of the soirée. Help us decide!”

  Bancroft gives my butt an affectionate squeeze. “I bet you’re regretting this awesome idea right about now, aren’t you?”

  I bite my tongue and say nothing. My original plan was to host a small party in his condo. Our condo. Not a five-hundred-person event. I can handle the extravagance. My regrets stem from Gwendolyn’s involvement and how much it’s stressing Amie out. My idea for a zombie apocalypse theme gets shot down quickly. Apparently not everyone wants to dress up like the undead for Halloween. Go figure.

  “What about a prince and princess theme?” Gwendolyn suggests.

  “Oh! That’s a great idea!” Amie claps her hands excitedly.

  I try to hold back my snort of disbelief. One that indicates I do not agree with her enthusiastic response to this horrible idea. I don’t for a second believe that Amie wants to dress up like a princess for Halloween. Why don’t I buy her reaction? Because during our first year of college we managed to score fake IDs proclaiming we were of legal age to drink.

  There was a Halloween party at a bar downtown and Amie, also having Daddy’s credit card in her back pocket, decided we needed to dress up. And dress up we did. She went as a dominatrix, which really means she just went out and bought very expensive, very leathery lingerie. And a whip. I went as a zombie bride, before zombies were all the rage. Guess who got all the phone numbers that night. Not me.

  Guess who also had to explain the thousand-dollar credit card bill from a fetish sto
re. Again, not me.

  The following year she went as an angel. In lingerie. The year after that she went as a wood nymph. In lingerie. There’s clearly a trend here. So while Amie pretends to be excited about dressing up in layers of tulle and satin, she’s really thinking about what kind of garters she can pair with her newest corset. I have to wonder if Armstrong has ever experienced Amie in her garter glory and whether he’s capable of appreciating it.

  I try to wear lingerie with Bane, but he gets overzealous and often destroys it in the process of its removal. The other night when I was dressed as an evil fairy is a case in point. That costume is now in need of a few repairs. But God that sex was hot. I would like to have more of that. Preferably soon.

  I tune back in to the conversation in time to hear Mimi suggest princesses throughout history. I have no desire to drown in a dress. I raise my hand, as if we’re in school, then realize I don’t need to be addressed before I speak. “That might be a little narrow. What if we made it famous couples throughout history.”

  Gwendolyn makes a face. “That’s actually a very good idea.” She sounds rather surprised that I could have one of those.

  “That way we’re not confined to royalty. We can choose any famous couple.” Like Bonnie and Clyde. The more notorious the better. “They could even be fictional.”

  “Like Romeo and Juliet!” Mimi proclaims.

  “Exactly.” I think Romeo is a wishy-washy douche and Juliet ends up dying for nothing, but I love that Mimi is referencing Shakespeare when we’re planning a Halloween party.

  “This is just going to be so much fun!” Mimi gives me a side hug. “I’m so glad Amalie introduced you to my son. If you have any other girlfriends with enough spunk to tame Lexington, I would love to meet them.”

  I laugh. Amie smiles as she watches us, but I can see the strain in her eyes. It makes me sad that her soon-to-be mother-in-law is such a cold fish.

  Mimi’s excitement is contagious, despite Gwendolyn’s nearly constant poo-poo attitude toward almost every aspect of the soirée. It appears they’ve decided to inject themselves fully into planning the event. Which, in reality, isn’t terrible. Both Amie and I have full-time jobs, and party planning has been theirs for years. Eventually we move to the dining room when we’re called in for dinner, but the conversation continues to revolve around the Halloween party. It becomes more and more grand as the discussion continues.

  I have no idea how they expect to pull this off in only three weeks, but it seems like it’s spiraling out of control in terms of size and grandeur. I wonder if this is what planning the wedding has been like for Amie. If so, I can definitely understand why she’s not more excited. And her excessive need for yoga. And her lack of orgasms. It makes me sad.

  Lex, who’s seated on the opposite side of the table, has been relatively quiet. Other than our bartending extravaganza in the kitchen, he made himself scarce until we sat for dinner. Although, I’ve been busy with the soirée planning, so maybe he’s been around the entire time and I just didn’t notice.

  Since we’ve sat down, Lex and Armstrong seem to be having a stare-down contest. Armstrong’s arm has been slung across the back of Amie’s chair possessively, like he feels the need to protect her. From what, I have no idea.

  Meanwhile, Bancroft has been trying to get his hand up my skirt. It’s distracting, but enjoyable.

  Mimi is three glasses of wine in, and her voice grows louder with each sip. “I have another idea!” She waits until she has everyone’s attention. “I think we should have a bachelor auction.”

  That gets a round of groans from her sons.

  “What?” Mimi waves her hand around, giant diamonds flashing in the chandelier lighting. “It’s a wonderful idea. We raised almost a quarter of a million dollars for charity last time.”

  “It was excellent publicity,” Fredrick, Armstrong’s father, agrees.

  “Who’s going to be up for auction? There’s no one eligible at this table,” Bancroft squeezes my thigh, his pinkie sliding under the hem of my dress for the five-millionth time. My vagina is going to explode before we get home.

  “Except for Lexington,” Armstrong adds with a smirk. “How much did your date pay at the last one? Was it twenty or thirty thousand?”

  Lex taps on the table. “It was fifty. What was it you got? Fifteen?”

  That wipes the smirk off Armstrong’s face and puts one on mine.

  “It was twenty-five,” he says irritably. “Who did you take out again? Wasn’t it the Firestone girl? I hope she got her money’s worth.”

  Lex’s grin spreads slow across his face. “I believe she did. I think she called me, hmm, what was it again?” He taps his lip. “Very charitable. She said I was worth every last penny.”

  “Lexington!” Mimi chastises.

  His expression morphs into wide-eyed innocence. “What? If a woman is going to donate fifty thousand dollars to charity on my behalf, I’m going to be an exceptionally attentive date.”

  “Especially if she’s hot,” Bane mutters, but not quietly enough. I elbow him in the side.

  “Bancroft!” Mimi purses her lips and gives him a hard look.

  I clasp my hands together and rest my chin on my knuckles. “If I wasn’t already dating Bane I’d donate fifty thousand to charity for a date with you, Lex.”

  That dimpled grin makes another appearance. All the Mills boys have killer smiles. “Thanks, Ruby.”

  Bancroft’s fingers tighten around my thigh. He leans in close and whispers in my ear. “Don’t stroke his ego.”

  “It’s too bad you can’t be auctioned this year, Bane. You always fetch a pretty penny.” Gwendolyn sighs and then turns a strangely disdainful grimace on Lex. “At least we have you. We’ll just have to find a few more gentlemen to participate. What about that Williamson boy, he did well last year, didn’t he—nothing like your boys, Mimi, but well enough.”

  What odd dinner conversation.

  It’s late by the time we leave and I’ve had several fun cocktails, compliments of Lex, so I’m feeling absolutely no pain. I’m also a wee bit unsteady on my feet. And horny. Dear God, I need to get laid. So bad.

  I think my harmless little joke about a charity date with Lex is making Bancroft a little territorial. Although I’m not sure why. I live with Bancroft, it’s not as if I’m going to jump brothers and beds. That’s just . . . gross.

  So now that I’m in the car with him, alone, I want to get my hands in his pants and I’d like his up my skirt.

  I slide over so I’m right beside him and rub my boob on his bicep. “Put the divider up.”

  He stretches his arm across the back of the seat and glances at me. His expression is remote, giving nothing away. In fact, he’s completely flat. Huh.

  He brushes my hair over my shoulder, fingertips skimming my throat. “Why do you want me to do that?”

  “For privacy.” Duh.

  His voice deepens from the already low baritone. “And why would we need privacy?”

  I bite my lip and cross my legs, letting my skirt ride up. His gaze drops there and then shifts to the open partition. “Because I’d like to be inappropriate with you.”

  “Oh? Are you sure it’s me you want to be inappropriate with?” His tone isn’t playful, it’s hard, annoyed.

  I lean over him and hit the button, watching as our driver’s gaze moves to the rearview mirror and then back to the road. He disappears behind the black glass. I narrow my eyes at Bane’s tight jaw, then run my fingertip along it. He jerks away.

  “Explain that reaction, please.”

  “You were flirting with Lex at dinner. In front of everyone.”

  “Pardon?”

  “At dinner. You said you’d donate fifty thousand to charity to go out with him if you weren’t with me.”

  I am sure my expression is incredulous. “Armstrong was being a dick. I was defending Lex.”

  Bancroft scoffs.

  “What is that sound? What does that mean?”


  Bancroft lifts his gaze from my cleavage. “He flirts with you.”

  “Lex? He doesn’t flirt with me. He treats me like a sister or something. I wasn’t being serious, and he was just being grateful since Armstrong is always a jerkoff,” I reason.

  “I don’t like it.”

  Wow. I had no idea Bancroft could be so sensitive. Well, that’s not entirely true. I just didn’t realize it extended to Lex. “You know you’re the only one I want.”

  He’s still frowning. And now he’s not looking at me.

  “Bancroft?” I take his chin in my hand and make him look at me. “How can you not know that?”

  “I just don’t like how much he enjoys the attention. He gets enough from everyone else. He doesn’t need it from you, too.”

  “So you’re jealous?”

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “You sound jealous.”

  “You’re mine. Everyone knows you’re mine. Lex knows you’re mine, and he still flirts with you, and you played right into it tonight.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “How very un-twenty-first-century of you. What is this really about?”

  He sighs and his head drops back on the seat. “You spent a lot of time with Lex tonight in the kitchen making all those drinks and then you were with Amie talking about this party thing, and you’ve been with Amie all week.”

  I shift around and straddle his lap. Now it makes sense. And I can actually see a pattern. Whenever we spend a lot of time with his family or with friends he becomes extra needy. As if sharing me with other people somehow makes me less his. And I suppose in a way that’s accurate, because he can’t have me all to himself like he normally does. “Aww, baby, are you feeling neglected?”

  His brows knit together, but his hands go to my thighs and slide under the hem of my dress. “Maybe.”

  I drop a kiss on his lips. “Am I yours?”

  His eyes are dark, heavy. “Yes.”

  “So maybe you should take me.”