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Adrian, Tim’s son, and James, Max’s son, are seated on the other armchairs, also holding beers. My eyes narrow when I realize my brother is too, but the legal drinking age here is eighteen, so technically, I guess they’re not doing anything wrong.
Mason spots me standing on the threshold, and I see the flare of panic in his eyes and the twitch of his hand when he realizes I’ve seen him drinking alcohol and probably tries to decide if it’s too late to try to hide it, but then he relaxes. He smiles instead, waving me in with his free hand.
“Hey, Livvy,” he says happily, blue eyes shining as bright as the sky outside. “Come join us. Do you want a beer?”
Adrian and James look up when he speaks, both smiling at me as well. Their king and ringleader over on the bed, however, tenses, and a deep scowl settles on his features as he sits up to glare at me.
“I’m sure Olivia has better things to do,” he says lazily, but the turbulence behind his aquamarine eyes gives him away. He’s trying to sound nonchalant about it, but that’s not how he feels at all.
Well, screw you. My brother’s already invited me in. You don’t get to say no for me. I hold his gaze as I walk into the room, waving casually at the others before I respond to Mason. “Thanks, but I’m okay on the beer. I’ll join you, though. What are you guys up to?”
He shrugs. “We can drink as much as we want here without having to worry about getting carded, so we’re trying to decide where to go later.”
Adrian wags his eyebrows at me as the corners of his lips curve into a smirk that makes him look exactly like the younger version of his father. “We’re going to set the town on fire, Liv. It’s going to be epic.”
My immediate instinct is to argue with him. I have to bite my tongue not to launch into a lecture about them being careful and the dangers ofsetting the town on fire, but since I’m angling for an invitation to go out with them, I know I have to keep my arguments to myself.
So instead of going with my gut like I usually do, I smile and take a seat at the edge of Vincent’s bed. Under normal circumstances, I’d rather chew off my own legs than have them touch any surface he’s defiled, but since we just arrived a couple hours ago, I doubt he’s gotten around to the defiling just yet. Besides, it’s the only seat left other than the floor, and since I’m in a skirt, that’s not an option—even if it is calf-length and I probably wouldn’t flash my privates. It’s just not a chance I’m willing to take.
“What do you guys have in mind?” I ask, trying to sound genuinely interested. “I’ve read that there are a couple good walking tours in the area. There are lots of sights to see, so that could be fun.”
Vincent uncurls like a jungle cat who’s just caught a glimpse of its prey. He’s grown tall over the last few years, and as much as I hate to admit it, he’s built now too. He spends a lot of time working out, which I only know because it’s a part of my job to know what everyone’s usual daily routines are, but he doesn’t look like some bodybuilder—or bodyguard for that matter.
Instead, his muscles are simply toned and defined, his body strong, everything seeming to ripple when he moves. I used to tease him about wanting to look like Maxim, but even I have to admit he’s come into his own.
His dark-blond hair is longer on top than at the sides these days, but only just. It’s also always just a little bit messy as though he just can’t seem to keep it in a neat style. Along with those unique aquamarine eyes that he inherited from his mother and his naturally tanned skin, he has what people online have referred to as aroguish appeal.
I’ve tried to keep denying it, but I’m not blind. Or stupid. I see it. I just choose not to let it affect me, but as he sits up and captures me in that stormy blue gaze, my heart speeds up just a little. It’s a purely physiological reaction, though. The product of being looked at by a boy who thinks of himself as an apex predator about to toy with his food.
“We’re not going on a walking tour,” he says with a decidedly condescending lilt to his deep voice. “That’s more your kind of thing. We’re starting the international part of our travels right with a pub crawl. Have fun seeing the sights.”
With those words, he dismisses me, but even though I know exactly what he’s doing, I don’t move. Screw him. Instead of responding with a snappy comeback, I force a bright smile to my lips and focus on the others.
“That sounds like fun. I’ll come with you.”
Ha. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Vincey.
A slight flush has appeared on his cheeks when I glance back at him, but James grins and mimes applauding me before Vincent can tell me off.
“That’s great, Liv. It’ll be good to have you come out with us for a change. You’re always holed up in your room or office. I worry about you.” He gives me a mournful look before he winks. “I can’t wait to see you having some fun for once.”
Adrian laughs, raking a hand through his hair as he shifts in his seat to face me. “You can help us keep an eye on Mase. Last time we all went out, I had to carry him home.”
My brother blanches, sending his friend a baleful look before he shrugs when he looks back at me. “Mom and Dad already know about it. They’ve already given me a lecture about drinking responsibly. If you’re going to come with us, you can’t be a wet blanket.”
Well, I can be, but I won’t.
Before I can say it out loud, Vincent scoffs and leans back, resting his weight on his palms with his fingers splayed open on the mattress as he makes a show of raking his gaze over me. “What he meant to say is that if you’re going to come with us, you can’t be dressed like a nun. There’s no way I’m taking you anywhere dressed like you’re going to a job interview with the queen.”
My hackles rise, and I only barely manage to bite back yet another retort that won’t get me anywhere with my assignment. I need to go out with them this evening and more evenings after that, and as much as the mere thought exhausts me, a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.
And since that’s what this girl has to do, I turn to face him, arching my brow when my gaze catches on his. “Don’t worry about me, Vincent. I can bring it.”
What I don’t say out loud is that I’ve heard the expression, but I’m utterly in the dark as to how one goes aboutbringing it. None of my clothesbringanything but comfort and cover to the table.
Once Vincent snorts in response to my statement and tips his head back to drain the rest of his beer, I glance down at my outfit. My shirt is a turtleneck that comes all the way up to my chin. The cardigan I’m wearing over it has these little buttons made of faux pearls, and I love it, but combined with the long skirt, he’s not entirely wrong about me looking like I might have a job interview with the queen.
Now that would be something, though.I’d love to go for an interview to manage security for a royal, but instead, I’m stuck providing a security blanket to the mother of a man who has proclaimed himself some kind of king in the court of public opinion.
