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“Morning, you two.”
“Otto’s in the gym,” Beau says nonchalantly, making her freeze in her bended position, armed with handfuls of knives and forks. She lifts her eyes. I raise my brows. Beau presses her lips into a straight line.
“Good for him.” She goes about her business, and Beau and I peek at each other, me warning her to leave it there. In all the years I’ve known Otto, I’ve never known him to be committed to one woman. I hate doubting that he has it in him, but I’m being a realist. We have a nice balance here, everyone gets along, and any fornicating could rock the boat. Danny and Otto are already at each other’s throats. This will end only one way. Blood. Because the chances of Otto settling down, and it would be settling down because Esther wants and deserves that and her son wouldn’t have it any other way, is about as likely as Beau becoming consistently submissive.
Of course, Beau doesn’t heed my warning. “Glad to be back?” She slips down off the counter and has another swig of the orange juice.
“Yes, I am, th—” Esther puts a pile of plates down, looking disgusted, and marches over to Beau, swiping the carton from her hands. “How many times do I need to tell you, don’t drink straight from the carton.”
“You’ve never told me that.” Beau laughs, claiming the plates and putting them away.
“I haven’t?”
“You definitely haven’t.”
“So many people in this damn house.” Esther tips the remaining juice into a jug and puts it in the fridge. “I need to call a family meeting. Remind a few people of the house rules.” She returns to faffing around the kitchen, and I jerk my head at Beau, telling her silently to move her arse.
She tilts her head. I tilt mine. She drops her eyes to my groin. I pout as she glances back up. I see hunger. Another jerk of my head. I need her in the best mood today, the most amenable mood. This is a good start.
Goldie walks in, stops, looks between us. “What’s up with you two?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing.”
Dubious, she goes to the fridge and pulls out the jug of orange juice, tipping it to her lips, still watching us. Beau snorts, I smile, and Esther yells, “Goldie!”
She jumps, sending the juice everywhere, mostly up her nose.
“How many times have I got to tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Goldie asks, between coughing and spluttering.
“My God.” Esther swipes the jug from her hand and wipes around the rim. “Use a damn glass!” she yells at the top of her voice, obviously hoping the whole house will hear.
Goldie looks thoroughly scorned, shrinking in her suit on the spot. It’s quite a sight. “Sorry.”
“Never mind,” Esther breathes, exasperated. “Eggs?”
“Please.” Goldie settles on the stool, peeking at us in question, to which we both deny any knowledge of Esther’s short mood. “Where’s Otto?” she asks.
Beau chuckles, exiting the kitchen sharply, and I’m soon going after her, eyeing her sweaty form as she takes the stairs, mentally ripping her sticky gym gear from her wet body as I tail her.
I reach for her wrist as we near the top and seize her. “Finally,” I whisper, hauling her around and up my body, taking her mouth. She wraps her limbs around me and devours my mouth as I walk us back to our room. Distract her with work, distract her with sex. That is my mission, and I choose to accept it.
“There you are.” Rose’s voice has Beau pulling away, and I groan my protest, looking up to see her pulling the door of their room closed. She looks like she means business, adorned in a cream silk floaty summer dress and enough gold bangles to stretch her arms to the floor. “Why aren’t you ready?” she asks as Beau slides down my front, rubbing me in places I shouldn’t be rubbed unless we’re alone.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “Ready for what?” Where on earth do they think they’re going?
“Shopping,” Rose says confidently, too confidently, fastening her purse as she comes to us, looking at Beau in disapproval.
“Shopping?” I snort. “I don’t think so.” But Beau and Rose leaving the mansion isn’t my main issue here. I have somewhere I need us to be.
“I have nothing to wear tomorrow,” Beau says quietly, losing all lightness.
Fuck. Tomorrow. And quickly, I’m reminded that distraction isn’t an easy feat when we are us and we’re in this fucking world. How do I play this? I tussle over that question for far too long, wasting all our times, because there is only one answer. Be reasonable. Ihaveto be reasonable. I turn to Rose. “How long will shopping take?”
She looks at me like I’m stupid. “How long is a piece of string?”
