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“Do you remember when we first came to the Bridgemont for our honeymoon?” the woman asks with an exaggerated sigh,folding herself across the piano like a weeping damsel in a storybook. “Why don’t you ever do nice things for me anymore? Why don’t you ever put your arm around me? Claim me? Fight for me? Do you not love me anymore?”
“Helena…” The man heaves out a ragged breath as he watches his wife take a long drag of her cigarette.
Smoke wafts in the air in a dark-gray cloud.
Freddie’s eyebrows twitch at the blatant display of rule-breaking, but he doesn’t comment.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Helena tells us with another dramatic sigh. “Because once you get to our age, you’ll find that you can’t stand being in the same room with the one you chose to marry.”
This is punctuated with a pointed look at her husband, who has turned red in the face—though I can’t tell if it’s in embarrassment or anger.
Um…okay, then.
Never marry, and remain a black widow forever—duly noted.
“It was nice meeting you,” Jackson says cordially, lifting his hand in farewell.
Helena eyes him coyly from beneath the rim of her hat.
“You too, darling. We’ll be seeing you around.” She thrusts her hand out in her husband’s direction and snaps out, “Toby! Help me down!”
He scurries towards her with his metaphorical tail between his legs.
“Oh god,” I murmur to no one in particular as we move away from them. “Please don’t tell me all marriages end up like that. I would rather pluck my own eyes out.”
“I remember when you used to be a closeted romantic,” Jackson quips, filing into the tiny elevator and stepping so close I can feel the heat his body emits in palpable waves.
“And I remember when I was able to rely on you three to always be there for me,” I retort dryly. “My, my…how times have changed.”
Orion flinches nearly imperceptibly at my words, his black-painted nails coming down to tap against his thigh. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed about Orion—even in high school, he always decorated his nails.
The memory conjures a smile to my face…but that smile immediately fades when all of the Bellua brothers crowd in around me.
Ugh. Why do they have to smell so good?
And why can’t I resist the urge to sniff them?
Dammit, Lily! Do better.
Freddie moves to the front corner of the elevator and presses the button to the very top floor.
“The honeymoon suite is on the twentieth floor,” he says conversationally as the box begins to rise.
I try to focus on his words. I honestly do, but my entire attention is fixated on every single spot my skin connects with one of the Bellua brothers.
Brooks’s arm caressing my own.
Orion’s breath on the back of my neck, his hand lightly grazing my waist as if he means to keep himself steady.
Jackson’s fingers brushing mine—so lightly I might believe it to be accidental if his eyes didn’t repeatedly flick in my direction, sparking with liquid heat that shoots straight to my core.
Nope.
Not falling for their bullshit again.
Steeling my heart against these idiotic boys, I turn towards Freddie.
“So how long have you been working at the hotel?” I question curiously as the display at the top of the elevator showing us what floor we’re on steadily increases.
