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“All right, darling,” she replied readily, giving my hand one last pat, putting it in my lap and rising with the grace of a ballerina.
She floated to Ian. He dipped down to get her peck on his cheek.
She turned at the door. “I’m truly so sorry, darling,” she said to me. “But as ever, tomorrow is another day.”
Trust her to quote Scarlet O’Hara and not sound like a twit.
“Thanks for checking in, Lady Jane.”
The ends of her lips curled minutely.
She closed the door behind her.
A glass of liquor I smelled instantly was whisky was shoved in my face.
I looked up at Ian. “I don’t like whisky.”
“Drink it.”
“I—”
“Drink it, Daphne.”
I gave him a glare and took the glass. Then I threw back the entire contents.
I nearly retched. I did breathe with my mouth open like fire would come out.
Whisky.
Bluh.
“I didn’t say chug it, for fuck’s sake,” Ian muttered, taking the glass from me and slamming it down on the table on top of some papers. “Up. In bed.”
I stood. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“I’m sorry about why you woke me up.”
“I’m sorry I woke your mum up too.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s over. Get in bed.”
“How did you know it was them?”
“You don’t make two billion pounds before you’re twenty-eight not knowing how to read people. Your sister has a nasty streak. Hence only two dates.”
And no fucking, he thankfully left unsaid.
“Thanks for…well…” I lamely threw out a hand to finish that statement.
“Daphne, get in bed.”
“All right,” I mumbled. “Thanks again.”
I started to the door.
His arm around my belly stopped me.
I looked up at him.
