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“I’m from Queens.” I offer her a tight smile, and she nods at me, her smile widening.
“Oh, I love New York. Queens issucha nice neighborhood,” she gushes, while I nod along with her, a smile plastered on my face.
“Not the part I’m from,” I mutter. Timothy, who is in the process of handing me a glass of champagne, smirks. Crap. I think he heard me.
“And where is that?” he murmurs back at me, his honey-colored eyes burning into my dark brown ones.
“Uh, Queensbridge.”
He blinks, studying me more closely. “The housing projects?”
This time it’s my turn to blink. Excuse me. There is no need for curiosity and censure in his tone.
“Yep,” I reply curtly, my lips popping on the “p”. He says nothing else, but as he retreats to stand with his brother and Robin again, his eyes don’t leave me. Yeah, he’s definitely one to tiptoe around if I don’t want to blow my cover. I offer another tight smile in his direction, cradling my champagne glass as I move to join Bill’s conversation with Beaumont. They’re talking about books. At least that will be interesting.
Timothy
Uncle Bill’s latest squeeze can’t be over thirty. She’s younger than me, for god’s sake. And she’s from the projects in Queens. I’m not sure where he found her, but she’s got the biggest brown eyes I have ever seen. I see what Sarah, Ryan’s airhead “girlfriend” meant when she said the woman looks Scottish. She’s got lily-white skin and masses of brown hair, though it’s currently pulled back into a sleek bun.
Angie keeps throwing uneasy glances at Uncle Bill, but he’s ignoring her and her looks. It’s a weird way to treat your girlfriend when she’s flown to the UK to join you on a family vacation, but then again, Uncle Bill’s always been an odd one. Dad and the other brothers did well for themselves, but Uncle Bill smashed it out of the park. He always says his first billion was the hardest to make. After that, the rest followed quickly.
Now he has five global businesses, and he told each of us when we graduated high school which company was meant for us and where and what we should study at university. Not to mention where we would need to live.I dutifully got my MBA from Wharton and moved to San Diego, where I run Haven Freight in all but name, along with being the second largest shareholder.
Initially, I was bummed that I got the freight company because I was hoping for the publishing company. But damn, Uncle Bill knew what he was talking about when he told me that Haven Freight would be a better fit for my talents. I love my job. It’s the logistics of everything. Learning how each country’s customs work is like crack cocaine to me. I don’t know why, because it sounds boring as hell, but I get off on it. The more complicated it is, the better.
A gong rings, drowning out yet another cutting remark that David’s date is directing at Angie. Thank god. It was starting to get awkward. The woman clearly has no sense of how things are. Even David was beginning to look uneasy. As he should. Why he let his date mouth off at Uncle Bill’s lover is beyond me. That’s asking for a dressing down no one wants to be on the end of.
Uncle Bill stalks out of the room, not looking in David and Robyn’s direction. His hand lands on Angie’s back, and he guides her in front of us through to the dining room. I’ve always loved Uncle Bill’s Kent home. I feel more at ease here than almost anywhere. I had my charger shipped over. Jasper loves running through this countryside even more than I do.
Beau falls in step beside me, raising his eyebrows and nodding at Uncle Bill and Angie’s backs. “She’s young.”
“I think she might even be younger than Ryan.”
“Well, she’s more mature than Ryan.”
“That’s not saying anything. A well behaved five-year-old is more mature than Ryan.”
Beau chuckles, draining his whiskey and leaving the empty glass on the side table as we move through the double doors into the sumptuous dining room. More like a dining hall. The long, polished medieval table seats twelve, with the sparkling chandelier a center point for the room. Uncle Bill immediately sinks into his seat at the head of the table, watching as Gladys escorts us to our seats. Despite the appearance of a casual family vacation, Uncle Bill plans everything to a T, including who sits where.
I take my seat, one away from Beau, and blink when Angie smiles at Gladys as she sinks into the chair between us. Beau’s eyebrows shoot up as he catches my gaze. The other three women are sitting with their boyfriends, so I have no idea why Angie is over here and not at Bill’s left, where Robyn is currently seated. Surely, after her display in the drawing room, Uncle Bill would have relegated David and Robyn to the foot of the table.
But I’m not here to ponder why Uncle Bill is treating his young girlfriend so poorly, so I shrug at Beau, turning to the other end of the table, where Uncle Bill is chatting with David and Robyn. She is alternatively staring at the artwork on the walls with a glazed look on her face or flirtinghardwith Uncle Bill. I have no idea what David sees in her, but I think it’s her cup size.
When I queried his wisdom in bringing her to thisfive-week-longvacation, he laughed and said that, of course he was bringing her. He wasn’t going five weeks without getting his dick sucked. That’s fair enough too. I thought he’d do as Beau and I plan to and sneak off to London occasionally.
“So, how long have you known Uncle Bill?” Beau asks Angie. She starts in surprise as though she didn’t think we’d talk to her about him.
“Uh, four years,” she mumbles, taking a large sip of her wine.
At this rate, she will be drunk before the mains are served. My surprise matches Beau’s. Four years ago, Uncle Bill was dating Moira Kline, a high-powered attorney based in New York, who would have been old enough to be Angie’s mother.
“You would have known your predecessor then,” Beau quips. I bite back a grin, but Angie looks confused.
“My predecessor?” She is compulsively straightening her cutlery, avoiding looking at us.
“Moira, the lawyer?” Beau prompts her. Angie blinks, wrinkling her nose. I guess she didn’t like Moira. No wonder she usurped her.
“Oh, uh, yes. I knew Moira. Uh….” Angie looks from Beau to me, her nose wrinkling again as a blush creeps over her cheeks. “You all think I’m sleeping with your uncle, don’t you?”
