Chapter 123

Jerome and I get Daniel into the house with relatively little trouble, though Daniel’s loud humming of the Gilligan’s Island theme song has me looking anxiously up the stairs. The absolute last thing I want right now is Natalia coming out of her bedroom to scold me for getting her baby boy drunk.

“Come on, Danny,” Jerome whispers as we work our way up the stairs, the nickname making me burst into a ridiculous smile. “Help us out a little, here,”

But Daniel patently refuses, dragging his feet and making us work for every step. I’m panting a little when we get to the top of the stairs, which makes Jerome raise a critical eyebrow at me. “A little out of shape, Fay?”

“Hey,” I return, glaring at him. “You didn’t have to do it in heels.”

Jerome laughs a little and starts towards Daniel’s bedroom. I go with him but he stops and shakes his head at me. “I got it from here,” he says, giving me a small smile.

“Are you sure?” I ask, unlooping Daniel’s arm from my shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jerome says, turning his head to look at his boyfriend. “Trust me. I’ve got it.”

And so I watch them go, a little jealousy curling in my belly at the intimacy between them. It just seems so simple, in this moment – how good they are for each other, even though their situation is impossible. How well they just…fit. Despite the impossible odds.

And suddenly, as I turn into my own room and press the door shut behind me, I want a drink. Very badly.

Because while everyone else spent the evening enjoying their wine, and then getting obliterated at the bar so they didn’t have to feel their emotions –

I spent my night watching Natalia’s every move and then babysitting Daniel.

So now? It’s my turn.

And I know precisely where I’m going.

Smiling a little, and feeling a little dangerous, I bend down to quickly peel off my shoes, tossing them on my bed before heading directly for the wardrobe.

I regret that move, a little bit, by the time I get up the stone steps to the door which leads to Kent’s room – mostly because my feet are freezing. I hop from one to the other as I hesitate outside his room, suddenly wondering if this was a good idea. I mean, should I have texted first to check and see if he was free, or even awake?

What if he’s not even there? Or – I gasp a little as I realize that he might not be alone –

What if – what if Natalia is in there – trying to seduce him –

Oh my god, what if she succeeded and I walk into…

Dying, suddenly desperate to know, I press as lightly as I can on the door, which swings open the barest crack on silent hinges.

But I scowl as I’m greeted with the sight of Kent, sitting in his bed with a book open in his lap, looking directly at me over the thick black frame of his reading glasses.

“Seriously?” I sigh, pushing the door open and leaning against the frame. “You knew I was here?”

“Did you think you were quiet?” Kent asks with a smirk.

“Well, kinda,” I reply, rolling my eyes a little.

“Stomp, stomp, stomp, pant, gasp, sigh,” Kent says, laughing. “Don’t expect to be hired to my stealth team anytime soon, Fay.”

“Don’t expect me to apply for it, Kent,” I shoot back, narrowing my eyes at him a little. But then I find myself starting to grin with glee as I take a good look at him sitting there all sexy in his underwear, reading his book.

“What?” he asks, frowning, suspicious of my change in mood.

“You have reading glasses?” I ask, my smile growing wide.

Kent smirks and pushes them back up on his nose, looking at me through them now. “Don’t try to shame me about these, Fay,” he commands, his voice low and rough enough to make my stomach twist with anticipation. “I look damn good in them.”

“Oh,” I say, flicking my hair back over my shoulder. “I would never shame the elderly about their age-related impairments. My daddy raised me right.”

Kent laughs at this, really laughs, a sound that makes me stand straight and truly smile now as he reaches out a hand to me, beckoning me forward. I swiftly cross the room to Kent, thinking that it’s a little ridiculous and unfair, how happy it makes me to be able to make him laugh like that. Kent Lippert, laughing. I may be one of only a few people to have ever heard the sound.

But as I put my hand in his and let him pull me across his body, I also think that he usually finds ways to make it worth my while.

“Baby Fay,” he murmurs, smirking down at me, “making fun of this old man.” He considers me for a moment and then says, quite seriously, “I could have you killed for that.”

“Oh, come on,” I murmur, curling my body close against him. “You can think of a more creative punishment than that.”

“Damn right I can,” he growls as he tucks his face low against my hair, making me laugh now.

But before I can retort, Kent pulls away from me a little and looks at me seriously again. “How are you?” he asks. “And Daniel? Are you two all right? I know tonight was…” he lets his sentence trail off, just shaking his head. But I don’t mind – we both know precisely what he means.

“We’re okay,” I answer softly, looking up into his dark green eyes. “Well, Daniel is stupid drunk, but –“

“What?” Kent asks frowning, and then he looks towards the main door of his bedroom as if he might get up and check. “Why did you let him –“

“Excuse you,” I say, putting a hand up to his face and forcing him to turn back to me. “Why did I let him? Do you think I have any control over what your son does?”

“More control than me,” he replies, raising his eyebrow. “Especially since you two skittered out of there and went out partying, letting me deal with the fallout –“

“Well one,” I say, holding up a single finger against his lips, “the fallout was happening in Italian, so I am useless there. And two,” I say, adding another finger, “our escape plan had drinks. So, yeah. We were out.”

Kent kisses my fingers and shakes his head at me, letting the subject drop as he tightens his arms. “I’m glad you came down, Fay,” he murmurs, bringing his face close and nudging my nose with his. “We should talk about what happened – come up with a plan -”

“Nope,” I sigh, stretching my arms over my head and smiling a little wickedly at him.

“What?” he asks, frowning at me even as he lets his hand on my back drift lower, his fingers grazing the top of my ass.

“Not tonight, Kent,” I murmur, taking his face in my hands and pressing a long kiss to his mouth. “I spent the night playing chess with Natalia and therapist to Daniel. Now? With you?” I grin at him, shaking my head a little, “I want a date.”

“A date, hmm?” he says, dipping that hand lower to take a firm grip on my ass, using it to pull me closer to him. “Why would I take you on a date?” he asks, bringing his mouth again close to mine but teasing me, not kissing me, not yet. “When I’ve already got you in bed?”

“Come on, Kent,” I whisper, biting my lip a little. “Can’t you get a girl a drink? I know you’ve got a bar in here,” I say, glancing around and then gesturing towards the paneled walls which I know hide all sorts of secrets.

“I’m a very serious man, Fay,” Kent says, shaking his head. “I would never keep liquor in my bedroom. So crass.”

“Liesss,” I whisper, and then I laugh as Kent slides himself out from beneath me, leaving me in a heap of sheets as he moves over to the wall across from us, one panel away from the secret coffee bar he showed me this morning. And then I bite my lip in anticipation of being proved correct as he looks back at me and, shaking his head, presses the panel.

I let out a little victorious squeal of delight and fall back against the pillows as the wall spins, revealing a very cute, very well-stocked mini bar. “I was right!” I cry, laughing.

“It was barely a gamble,” Kent murmurs, smirking and turning away from me and taking two glasses down from the little hanging rack at the top. He jerks his chin towards the closet as he gets started making two cocktails. “Go get changed, Fay,” he says with half a sigh. “I’m not letting you have cocktails in bed while you’re wearing Oscar de la Renta.”

“Oscar wouldn’t mind,” I say, pulling myself out of bed and passing behind Kent on my way to the closet, trailing a few fingers across his ass as I go.

And then I let myself into the closet, wondering what the hell a girl does wear to a cocktail date in bed.