by JB Salsbury
I peer into his room. “Are you decent?”
“In the closet!”
I step into the bedroom, and the moment I spot his bed, I’m thrown viciously into memories of his mouth on mine, his powerful body above mine as he moved against me. The taste of his tongue—
“You lost?”
I jump at the nearness of his voice.
He leans a shoulder against the doorway to his closet, looking pleased with himself.
I ball my hands tighter and straighten my spine. “You look nice,” I croak out through my embarrassment at being caught staring at his bed.
His knowing smirk makes me want to dissolve into the floor. “I haven’t decided what I’m wearing yet.”
“You’re not wearing that?” He’s in a faded pair of jeans and a white Henley, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. “Come help me pick something.” He motions for me to follow him and turns back into the closet.
I shake out my hands, try to look relaxed, and follow him into the space that is big enough to be a bedroom.
“Have a seat.” He motions to a pale brown leather chaise that sits in the corner.
I sit and watch him walk the walls with built-in racks that display more clothes than a department store. He grabs hangers with shirts and slacks, moves to the wall of shoes and pulls out a couple of pairs, belts next, and then hangs them on hooks against a bare wall for display. He steps away, tilts his head, then turns to look at me over his shoulder. “Which one speaks to you?” He goes back to studying, walks along them, stops, studies some more, then turns as if waiting for my answer.
“Do you do this every time you get dressed?”
“Yes.” He goes back to looking. “What’s the point if there’s no effort involved?” He turns to me again. “Which one?”
“Hmm…” Honestly, he’d look fantastic in any of the three options he’s set out. “I vote the one with all the dicks on it. The orange will look great with your hazel eyes.”
He turns his entire body toward me. “Dicks? Those are paisleys.”
“Looks like a bunch of dicks to me.”
He chuckles and shakes his head but grabs the outfit with the dickleys. “You have a dirty mind.”
“You’re the one who bought the shirt.”
He reaches for the button of his jeans.
I jump to my feet as quickly as I can. “I’ll wait in the kitchen while you change.” In my hurry to leave the closet, I trip over my own feet and practically pull a muscle to catch myself before I hit the ground.
“You okay?”
I don’t look at him, but I can hear the humor in his voice. He knows being around him like this, the thought of him undressing with me in the room, makes me uncomfortable, and I pray he doesn’t know the reason.
“You sure you don’t want to wait in my room? On the bed, maybe?”
Shit. He totally knows the reason.
“I’ll be in the kitchen.” I scurry out of the room to the low hum of his laughter.
Jerk.
Eighteen
Gabriella
“Nice building.” I stare out the passenger side window of Kingston’s car as we pull into the gigantic high rise.
“Alex designed it,” he says in such an everyday way.
“No shit…” I whisper. From our brief introduction, I never imagined the quiet, scowling Alexander had this kind of genius-level skill.
A valet dressed in all white comes around to open my door. Kingston meets me at the door, and we’re greeted by every member of the building’s staff.
Good evening, Mr. North.
Nice to see you again, Mr. North.
Welcome back, Mr. North.
While we wait for the elevator, I rock into his side. “You’re like a celebrity in this place—are those fish?” I lean over the railing of the bridge and watch the brightly colored koi swim through crystal-clear water. “Do they have names?”
The elevator arrives, and I rejoin Kingston at the doors. He smiles at me as if he finds my question cute.
“I’ll take that as a no.” We step inside the elevator, and I gasp at the view. Floor-to-ceiling glass, and from our location at its south end, Central Park is sprawled out before us. “Whoa.”
Kingston lifts a brow. “You’re so easily impressed. I should’ve brought you here weeks ago.”
“You’re trying to impress me then, are you?”
He chuckles, the sound kind of sad. “More than you know,” he mumbles.
Huh?
Before I can ask for clarification, the elevator pings.
The double doors open to reveal a grinning Jordan as if she’d been given word we were in the building and has been waiting to pounce.
“Hey, guys,” she says excitedly.
“Stop it.” Kingston steps off the elevator and throws an arm around her neck for a hug. “You’re acting creepy as fuck.”
“Shut up.” She shoves him away, and her bright gray eyes fix on me. “Gabriella, I’m so glad you could come. Alexander said Kingston would be bringing a date, and I hoped it would be you rather than the women Kingston usually brings around.”
Kingston cringes slightly, but I’m thankful for Jordan’s honesty. A reminder that he hasn’t been fully transparent about his sexuality to his family yet—and most likely the very reason why I’m here.
“Your building is amazing.” I follow Jordan into her apartment. “Around every corner, there’s something new—oh, my God…” The word “apartment” doesn’t do justice to this place. A better description would be a mansion in the sky.
“Can I get you something to drink,” she asks while I walk to the window to look out at the park. And I thought the view from the elevator was incredible.
I spot all the water landmarks—the pond, lake, and reservoir.
Not wanting to leave my breath marks on the glass, I step back and join Kingston in the kitchen with Jordan and Alexander.
“Gabriella,” Kingston says. “You remember my brother Alex?”
“Yes, good to see you again. Kingston said you designed this building?”
He grunts into his glass of sparkling water.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” I accept a glass of wine from Jordan.
“That’s because I’ve never designed another building like it,” Alex says, not rudely, but as a statement of fact. “I don’t recycle ideas.”
“I hope you guys like salmon.”
“Sounds great,” I say and suck back a healthy portion of my wine.
“Oh, damn.” Kingston sucks air through his teeth. “I’m allergic to seafood.”
Jordan shoots him a playful glare. “I’ll let the staff at the restaurant know to no longer serve you the seabass you order every time you’re in.” She squints to study my shirt. “Why is your shirt covered in dicks?”
I turn my face away so he can’t see me smile.
“They’re not dicks. They’re paisleys.”
“Those are most definitely dicks,” Jordan says and looks at her husband for backup.
“Dicks,” Alexander says.
Kingston
I pull at the cotton-silk blend and study the pattern.
“See,” Jordan says and traces out the shapes on my shirt. “Here’s the head, the shaft, little balls here—”
“That’s enough. I see it.” I frown, squint, and tilt my head to see it better. “Do some of them have wings?”
Jordan grins. “Yep.”
“We’ve corrupted you.” Gabriella laughs with Jordan. “You’ll never see that shirt again in the same light.”
“I think I like it better now.”
She winks. “I bet you do.”
“Not like that,” I say to try and explain, but she walks away with Jordan to the table. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
I turn to see Alex staring at me through tight eyes and a blank expression, his typical MO. “Other than the fact that I’m wearing a shirt covered in dicks?”
&n
bsp; He looks between me and a laughing Gabriella across the room. “You’re not yourself around her.” He brings his attention back to me. “You make a fool out of yourself.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
His glare tightens. “You never make a fool out of yourself, especially around women.”
I exhale and drop my chin. “I know.”
“You act like you don’t know your ass from your elbow.”
“You noticed that, huh?”
“I’m surprised she’s still hanging around you.”
“Okay, I get it.” I catch Gabriella’s eyes, and she smiles sweetly before turning back to Jordan in conversation. “I’m an idiot around her. And you don’t even know the worst of it.”
He doesn’t say anything, just waits for me to continue.
I angle my body away from the women. “I’m friend-zoned. She’s made that clear. Many times.”
He blinks, and his brows slam together.
“Then I made out with her. And it was...” I feel my lips pull up at the ends. “She’s incredible.”
“Huh.” He refills his empty glass with ice and cracks a bottle of sparkling water.
“But, you know, we’re just friends.”
“I misjudged you.” He screws the top back on and lifts his drink. “I thought you were smarter than this.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wait, Alex the genius thinks I’m smart?
“If she made out with you, then you’re not friend-zoned.”
“It’s not that simple.” Although, he has a point.
“It’s always that simple. I’m hungry.” He leaves me speechless and joins the women at the table.
“That was delicious,” Gabriella says after she’s cleaned her plate. “Alexander, where did you learn to cook like that?”
“It’s not hard to follow instructions on a recipe.”
“Not for some.” She sips her wine. “Jordan says you guys eat from her restaurant most nights?”
My brother answers in an affirmative grunt.
“You should come to the restaurant sometime.” Jordan seems to genuinely like Gabriella, and the thought of them being friends warms me inside. “We could sit at the bar, have dinner, and gossip about the North brothers.”
“Only the handsomest North brothers, I hope.” I pick up the empty plates at the table and bring them to the kitchen.
“I don’t know,” Gabriella says. “Gossiping about the twins sounds so boring.”
Jordan giggles.
I wait for a clever comeback to surface, but my mind is blank as Gabriella smiles up at me. “Cute.” It’s the only word I can get out, and I mean it. She is fucking adorable in every way.
“Alexander says you’re miserable at North Industries,” Jordan says. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You’re much too creative for a corporate atmosphere.”
“Everyone seems to agree with you except August. He’s doing his best to keep me miserable.”
“You could try harder,” says Alex, always one to speak the truth no matter how uncomfortable.
“What makes you think I’m not trying?” I hate having this conversation in front of Gabriella, but I’m surprised by Alex’s switch in loyalty. “I thought you were on my side.”
“Hayes said you were fucking up the files, couldn’t get them in alphabetical order…”
My stomach turns to cement.
“Then Ms. Coleman told August you haven’t read any of the material she gave you.”
“Yeah, well, her intentions aren’t exactly pure—”
“If you’d at least apply yourself—”
“I am, Alex!”
His eyes widen, shocked by my outburst.
He’s not the only one.
I clear my throat and release the tension in my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand why I should work my ass off for August when he won’t even hear my ideas on how I can contribute my own talents to the company.”
Alex grunts in a way that sounds like agreement. I think.
“Enough about North Industries,” Jordan says, and there’s a collective exhale around the table. “Let’s get to the reason why we had you over for dinner tonight.” She snags an envelope from a nearby table and hands it to me.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.” She reclaims her chair at the table, scoots it closer to her husband, and pulls his hand into her lap.
I look at Alex in hopes of reading his expression, but it’s hopeless. The guy is a blank slate.
My pulse picks up as I pull out a letter and open it to find a gold letterhead and a lot of black, typed words. “What does it say?”
“Read it,” Jordan says excitedly.
I stare down and squint at the first word. The letters merge and bleed together. My heart rate speeds. My throat feels dry, and I swallow hard. The space around me seems to shrink, the air thins, and I try to focus.
“What is it?” Gabriella says. “The suspense is killing me.”
I clear my throat. I give up and hand it to her.
Hesitantly, she takes it from me. She dips her chin to read it, and a brilliant smile pulls at her lips. “Restaurant Digest?” Her eyes, wild with joy, lift to Jordan’s. “They’re featuring your restaurant in their magazine?”
“That’s right.” I try to play the whole thing off like I’d read the news first. “Congratulations.” Alex and Jordan share a look, and he smiles bigger than I’ve ever seen him, which is still fairly small compared to most. “Great news.”
“Great news for all of us,” Jordan says, and her brows raised high. “Don’t you get it?”
I get the feeling there’s something important in that letter that I missed, but I’m at a loss, so I just play it off. “Great exposure for North Industries and Alex.”
Gabriella slips her hand into the crook of my arm. “They want to cover the interior designer.”
I jolt at her words. “That’s me.”
“That’s you,” Jordan says and squeals like a fifteen-year-old Bieber fan. “It’s so exciting!”
“Holy shit,” I mumble to myself.
“You’re going to be in Restaurant Digest?” Gabriella whispers beside me. “Kingston, that’s amazing.”
“Yeah, wow…” I don’t know what to say. To think I decorated Jordan’s on the River as a gift to my future sister-in-law. It was a project I did for fun and nothing I thought would ever get recognition outside of the restaurant’s patrons. “I’m honored.”
“They’re sending photographers and someone to interview us in October, so we have plenty of time to plan.” Jordan clings to Alex’s arm. “They’re excited about the angle.” Her facial expression communicates that I’m supposed to know what she means by angle.
“Oh, um…” Gabriella squeezes my bicep. “The family angle, totally. Isn’t that cool?”
“So cool,” I say and down some of my wine.
Gabriella’s being the perfect wingman, filling in all the blanks for me, but that means she’s figuring me out, and I can’t have that. She’s too perceptive, and that could mean very bad things for me.
“Now that’s out of the way,” Jordan says, “how about we put a little wager on a fishing championship?”
“No way.” I shake my head. “You took one hundred and fifty dollars off me the last time we played that video game.”
“Now’s your chance to win it back!” Jordan jumps up and heads for the television. “Gabriella, you’re not afraid of a little video game too, are you?”
“Never.” Gabriella releases me to join Jordan. “Video games are kind of my thing.”
An hour later, Gabriella is counting the one hundred and eighty-seven dollars she’s won from me, Jordan, and Alex. My brother hasn’t been able to stop scowling at Gabriella since he’s never been beaten so brutally before.
“And here I thought I knew you.” I stuff my wallet back into my pocket after handing over my payout.
“What can I say.” Gabriella shoves her money i
nto her purse. “I’m a mystery.”
“How’d you learn to play so well?” Even Jordan seems shocked by Gabriella’s skill.
“Let’s just say there was a time when I spent the majority of my life in a room alone.” She smiles sadly. “Video games were a nice distraction.” She shifts uncomfortably and then looks at me as if needing rescue.
“I should get you home.”
Her expression relaxes, and she nods.
I thank my brother and Jordan for dinner, express again how exciting the magazine write-up news is, and say goodbye.
In the elevator, Gabriella watches me cautiously.
I don’t look directly at her for fear of what she’ll pick up. Did she see? Does she know?
We’re quiet the rest of the way to the car.
“I can take you home,” I say, hoping she’ll agree so that I can spend a little more time with her.
“I already requested an Uber to your place, but thank you.” She stares out the window for a few seconds, then at her lap before looking up at me. “I didn’t realize you weren’t happy at North Industries.”
“Does anyone really love their job?”
“Some do.”
“I doubt that.”
A few silent seconds stretch between us and fill the car with tension.
“They don’t know,” she says quietly. “Do they.”
I sniff, grip the steering wheel tighter, and keep my eyes forward. “Don’t know what?” I know. I just hope I’m wrong.
“That you’re dyslexic.”
Jesus. A tidal wave of heat rushes from the top of my head down. “I’m not.”
She must sense my discomfort because she turns her eyes to the road, giving me privacy. “In all the times we’ve shared a meal, I’ve never seen you even look at a menu. I’ve never seen a book, newspaper, or even a magazine in your place.”
I clench my jaw.
“At the art show, you refused to write anything. And what your brother said about the files and the reading.”
Fuck.
“Then, with the letter, it all clicked into place. I didn’t put it together until tonight.”
