My teeth clench as I keep my gaze on my parents. I want to look. No, I have to look because it’s rude not to. Damn it, Kingsley, turn your head and see who’s speaking.
I don’t need to. I’d recognize that incredibly British tone anywhere.
Turning my head to the right, about six people down in the middle of the table, is the guy from the bar. The man with tattoos decorating his whole body and ocean-blue eyes. The guy with the odd name.
Rip.
Our eyes meet the moment I turn, and his stare makes my heart skip a beat. What the hell are the odds ofhimbeing the new job my parents have for me?
A sharp pain erupts in my side, and I turn to see my sister had elbowed me. She mouths,You’re staring.
“Oh,” I mumble. “Fun.”
Odette lets out a big-ass sigh.
“Are you good in front of a camera?” the guy beside Rip asks. Thomas, that’s what my dad called him.
I quirk a smile as best I can. “I’ve been in front of cameras my entire life.”
“Which is perfect,” Uncle Santiago speaks for me. “I think you boys will get along great.”
Rip’s lips pull into a closed-lip grin. “So do I.”
3
Rip
Skin some shade between tan and bronze—I can never tell where one begins and the other ends—tight, black twists in his head, and glistening gray eyes that sucked you in and never let go.
Being up close, in the light, I can see why people fawn over the son of Beaumont Grand—and why I can’t get caught up in him.
Kingsley sits at the table like he did last night. Detached.
He only tunes into the conversation when forced, and it’s painfully obvious he hasn’t been listening to a word anyone has said. He lulls off as if he had better places to be, and he turns his nose up at every meal the kind chef presents to us. I don’t understand why, because that was some of the best bloody food I had in forever.
It shouldn’t surprise me. Being the only son of an unethically rich, overly feared mafia boss probably does that to a guy. Nothing can touch him, so why care?
“So,” Xavier Beaumont begins, “how do you plan this will work with Kingsley? I’m sure you boys have talked over your plans.”
“Yes. We’ve already planned out a few videos around the resort, and we’ll let Kingsley know what he’ll need to do. We can coach him through it. Thomas and I have been fairly successful with every other business we’ve worked for, and I guarantee you will see results in two weeks.”
“Guarantee?” Xavier rubs his chin. “If you can produce outstanding results in that short amount of time, I’ll have to treat myself to a drink.”
“As if you ever deprive yourself, Xavier,” the older man across from me jokes. If memory serves, he’s an executive, but isn’t family to the Beaumonts.
“Would you if you had a wine cellar below your home?” Santiago asks the man as he lets out a low chuckle.
“I know I wouldn’t,” Thomas interjects, laughing along with them, not realizing he sticks out like a sore thumb.
The laughter ceases, and all eyes are on Tommy as if he’s said something off. I almost facepalm. He jumped into their conversation, trying to be all charming and smooth, the fool.
Mya Beaumont’s lighthearted giggle breaks the silence. “Thomas gets it.”
I see the relief in Tommy’s eyes, and I let out a breath of my own. I shoot him a firm, yet nervous glare. We want them tolikeus, not find us insufferable.
“That he does. If you boys ever want to try something from our wine cellar, let us know,” Xavier offers kindly.
A smooth grin forms. “Thank you.”
