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I draw a deep breath as I watch her walk away, ass sashaying like a tempting little morsel under that black skirt. Fuck. When she called me Daddy, even though it was obviously by accident…damn, I nearly came in my pants.
What the hell has this girl done to me? I’m so hard I could crack open bank vaults with my dick right now.
I turn away, grunting as I lose sight of her, and force myself back in through the doors to the ballroom. And immediately feel a hand on my arm.
I whip around, ready to hurt someone, but have to pull back when I see my sister.
“Reid! Oh my God, at last. You’re sooooo…late…” Stacie looks slightly annoyed, and more than a little confused at her own words, but too drunk to hold either emotion for long. “Where the fucksickle have you been, big brother? Everyone! This is my best…absolute greatest brother in the whole wide world!”
A few people glance our way, a couple chuckle a little at the spectacle. Nobody seems to know who I am, or to care, and that’s exactly the way I like it.
“Stacie. Congratulations,” I say. “Can I get you a coffee?”
Her brows draw together. “Coffee? What? No. Another one of these.” She holds up her cocktail glass, the dribble of liquid in the bottom sloshing over the sides, then raises her voice. “He’s paying for all of the drinks!” She cheers then cups her hand around her mouth, leaning toward me. “You’re paying for everything, sure, but they all don’t need to know that.” She ends on an exaggerated wink and the fireballs of anger start ping-ponging around inside of me again.
I’m not sure if it’s so much my sister’s narcissistic behavior. That’s not new and I’ve grown more indifferent and accepting about it over time. I think the anger is flooding back because Mildred is out of sight. I feel like when I can see her, touch her, she’s the antidote to my ever-present churning rage.
Stacie’s little announcement about the drinks gets the cheer she was hoping for, and she laughs on a dramatic bow, then raises her hand to her mouth, making a retching face, and I’m thinking she just threw up in her mouth a little bit.
Classy.
Before I can move back to the bar, my safe place at weddings, Martin sidles up beside Stacie, a look of confusion on his flushed face, as he struggles to stay at the helm of his wobbly legs.
“This…” Stacie says, grinning and throwing her arm over his shoulder. “This is my new husband. Of course, you already know that from the pictures I sent. Anywho, Martin, this is my big brother, Reid. He’s very successful. In business anyway. Love, not so much.” She laughs, pressing her nose into Martin’s cheek for a moment and they both sway, and I wonder if they both started to fall if I would try to stop it. “Honestly, a girlfriend or what do they call it now?” Martin looks at Stacie, but she is oblivious. “The girlfriend experience? Would do you good. Make you a little less…uptight.” She creases her face in thought, then just waves her glass up and down, indicating all of me.
Normally, I’d have a hard retort, storm off. But right now, the word girlfriend just sets my pulse racing as I glance around, wondering when Mildred will be back. I need her near me, I need to see her.
I need to make sure no other swinging dick is so much as glancing in her direction.
“Thanks, Sis, I’ve gotta—”
“Nice to meet you, Red,” Martin says, still frowning, and I don’t even care that he doesn’t know my name. “You need to meet my daughter, Milly. She’s around here somewhere. She’s been hiding in corners the whole night… She’s your new sister-in-law. Or is she your niece-in-law? Stacie is her new mom.”
He and Stacie laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and all I want to do is hire a team to comb the place and find Mildred.
Mildred.
I mean, what’s in a name, right?
But, Mildred? It doesn’t suit her at fucking all.
“It’s Reid,” Stacie says, pushing her face into Martin’s. “R—eeee—d. Not Red.”
“Sorry…son. Reeeeeed.” He grins.
“Yeah, hilarious,” I say, deadpan. “Look, I need a drink.”
“Me too!” Stacie cheers.
“Make that three,” Martin adds, but I spin on my heel, leaving them to deal with each other before I pop a rocker arm and ruin the evening for the newlyweds and everyone else within ear shot.
As I turn, a high-pitched squeal from the mic has people wincing, hands flying to cover ears as the room goes quiet. I’m still trying to weave my way to the bar but the guests sort of huddle into groups, looking toward the stage, blocking my retreat and it’s either stay where I am or start flinging them across the room like footballs. Right now, I could go either way.
