Page 28 of Covetous

Is he for real? “Why didn’t you?”

He darts that tongue out again, wetting his bottom lip. “I wasn’t…” He sighs, shaking his head. “I thought I had time.”

My heart squeezes in a vise grip.

“But I guess…I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

“No. I wasn’t it,” I say, returning his sad smile.

The front door opens suddenly, snapping my and Victor’s attention away from each other to Isabella, who barges through, apologizing profusely.

Chapter Ten

Isabella’s apologies stop short, along with her footsteps, before she walks the rest of the way to the kitchen. A fleeting question flickers in her eyes as she surveys our empty beverages, but it vanishes before I can interpret it. “This is for you,” she says, handing me what looks like a gift bag from the spa.

“Thanks.” I open it, going through all the goodies with a smile, while Victor moves from his seat beside me, taking his glass to the kitchen sink.

“I thought you already left.”

“Not yet,” Victor says, turning on the faucet, not looking at either of us.

“What time are you leaving?” Isabella asks.

He shrugs, drying his glass and putting it back with the others. “Not sure.”

I rise from my stool, gathering the ingredients to make another batch of daiquiris for me and Isabella. “Liv went to Hawaii with her parents this weekend, so you and Esme will have the place to yourselves.”

“I’m not going over to Esme’s tonight.” Victor grabs a water from the fridge. “I’m going out with the guys.”

“Is Smith back from college? Will he be there?” Isabella’s giving nonchalance but doesn’t quite pull it off. From the looks of it, she’s purposefully trying to get under her brother’s skin.

It works. Victor’s bottle pauses halfway up to his mouth. “Why?”

She shrugs with a sheepish smile. “No reason.”

“Leave it alone, Izzy.” He shakes his head at his little sister even as an exasperated smile curves his lips.

I wait until he leaves to get ready for his night with the boys before asking about Smith. Since his upstairs bedroom technically has no walls, thanks to its loft-style configuration, I turn on the blender to help mask my voice. “Do I know Smith?”

“Oh, you absolutely know Smith. He ran track with Victor. Smith Manchester?”

“Which one was he?” I search my memories, trying to place him. I’ve never missed a single track meet, but I still come up blank. As was the norm back then, I had tunnel vision whenever Victor was concerned. He was a glorious sight in his track uniform—his long, muscular legs pumping with speed and strength as he outdistanced his competitors.

She sighs. “He was the tall, tanned, and gorgeous one.”

“Can you be more specific?” I fill our glasses with the strawberry daiquiri mixture, adding whipped cream and sliced strawberries on top.

“He has blond hair, a buzz cut, the most beautiful sand-colored eyes, and golden-tanned skin.” A shiver visibly shakes her body. “He’s so fucking hot.”

“Now I remember him. Anything ever happen with you two?”

“Nah. As hot as he is, I would never hook up with any of my brother’s friends. Plus, Smith’s the guy my dad wants me to be with, so naturally, I can’t let that happen. I don’t believe in arranged marriages.”

“Marry. Are you serious?”

“You remember Quentin’s first wife—Amy Manchester? She’s Smith’s older sister. You would think after their arranged marriage went to shit, my dad would leave it alone.”

A few magazine covers stand out in my memory, displaying their gorgeous faces. One of their wedding and a couple of tabloids highlighting their bitter divorce. “Vaguely, but I never met her. What about Victor?” Is that what his family wants for him? An arranged marriage? And would he be up for that?

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