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Dylan followed us inside a few seconds later. He had parked her car inside the garage.
I reached for her hand. I wanted him to see it too.
“Out there, people might think you two belong together, but in here you’re ours.” I wiggled the diamond over her knuckle and off the tip of her finger. I placed it on the foyer table in a bowl made from Austin granite. “You’re mine too, baby. Understand? That ring doesn’t belong in my bed.”
She nodded. “I’m yours, Isaac.”
“Good.”
Dylan slammed the door. “What the fuck happened at that interview?”
I shook my head. “You should have warned everyone about Chantel.” I eyed him.
We all wandered into the kitchen. I’d made sure my house manager stocked the fridge and bar with plenty of wine for Vanessa. I had caseloads of Texas beer. I tossed one to Dylan. He twisted the top off.
“That was a long time ago. She has a boyfriend. I don’t know what the fuck her problem was.”
I showed Vanessa the different wines she had to choose from. She selected a white and smiled. “I like bubbles sometimes.”
I popped the cork off the bottle and poured a tall glass for her. It was some kind of Prosecco. I wondered if this was the gateway to me learning about wines.
She twirled to face Dylan. “Sometimes women just don’t like to see men with other women. It’s that simple.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
She nodded. “Yep. That’s all it was. She was jealous.”
“Who the hell knew that,” he mused, chugging the beer.
“At least we got that over with.” Vanessa sat on the tall wooden bar stool. “I didn’t know where she was going with those questions. I was nervous. More nervous than I should have been with all that prep Steve did.”
; I leaned against the counter, pressing my leg next to hers. “What was that shit about your brother?” I asked.
The beer was cold. I was going to need more than one tonight. I had no plan of us turning in early.
Vanessa sighed. “Danny isn’t coming back. It’s not anything you have to worry about.”
“Where is he?”
She played with the edge of her glass. “My half-brother is probably partying in Paris. Hong Kong? I can’t keep track anymore.”
“Are you kidding?” Dylan pulled up the seat next to her.
“No. He dropped out of college and started the Danny McCade world party tour. That was eight years ago. He went through his inheritance pretty quickly. I don’t know how much of it he has left.”
I rubbed the back of my head. “Shit, Vanessa. That’s crazy.”
“Did you say half-brother?” Dylan asked.
“Yeah. Same dad. Different moms.” She seemed nervous to look at us. “I never met Danny’s mom, or mine. We were the products of some quick romances my father had. At least that’s how my grandmother explained it.” She smiled nervously. “I know now that they bought us for exchange for their silence. My dad wasn’t exactly father material. I shouldn’t be surprised my brother is just like him.”
“You don’t know who your mother is?”
She shook her head. “No. And there’s no way to track her down. She could have been a waitress, maybe a Warriors dancer. There’s no telling. I used to pretend she was an artist and ran off to Paris to paint. It sounds better than telling people your mother was possibly a stripper.”
“Damn it, Vanessa. That’s messed up.”
