Page 12 of Forking the Billionaire

Layana and Morgan danced to the beat, following Esme’s moves. Half the crowd did, drawn into the chaos that was Esme.

“What’s Esme’s role here?” Jules asked. “Isn’t she part of the wedding party? Or…is she also with the band?”

“She’s being Esme,” I said. She was going to be a groomsman. She was probably part of the band, or if she wasn’t, she could be. She didn’t need talent in something for people to want her to be a part of it.

Jules made a sound of consideration, like there were implications in my words beyond what I’d said.

A man in an aloha shirt stepped up to me. “Mr. Carrington, correct?”

He had a curly mustache and a red ascot around his neck that seemed out of place with the island vibes.

“Yes,” I said. “Jasper Carrington. My brother Oscar Carrington is here, too.”

The man nodded. “You and your guest will be staying in the Hibiscus Suite….”

He handed me a pile of papers and two keycards. He kept talking, but I found it difficult to focus on what he was saying. I did catch the words “services” and “welcome” and a few other bits here and there. I was sure anything important would be in the paperwork.

My attention was stuck on Esme as she danced across the stage. It was frustrating. If astronauts could telescope-watch people anywhere on the planet, they’d be stuck watching her too. Getting ensnared in her web was a frustrating inevitability for anyone who made the mistake of entering her orbit.

As the song came to an end, Esme handed back the drum and headed toward the edge of the stage, pink-cheeked and beaming with confidence.

The band started another song. Esme squatted like she was going to jump down from the stage, then paused. All color drained from her face, almost like she’d been struck with a dire realization.

A tiny spark of concern rose into my throat.

Was it possible she’d suddenly grown self-conscious and realized she’d stolen the show from the bride and groom? No. That couldn’t be it.

She pressed her lips together and puffed out her cheeks.

Then she spewed vomit all over the ground.

I stood there, shocked. This was a lot, even for Esme. Given she didn’t look sick, and the fact that her dress was clearly on backwards, she had probably been up drinking all night and had overestimated her ability to hold it together this morning.

Gabriel rushed forward. He helped her down, his concern clear. The rest of us followed as a clump.

“Esme, are you sick?” Gabriel asked. “Are you all right?

“I’m great.” She twisted her lips and wiped her tongue on her wrist.

She didn’t look great. She looked green.

“I’ve been having a reaction to the water or something,” she said, plastering a smile back on her face. “It’ll be fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Gabriel said.

“Water troubles?” Morgan raised a hand to catch Esme’s attention. “Does that mean we need to stick to the bottled stuff?”

“Bottled water is always a good idea when introduced to an unfamiliar biome,” Gabriel said.

“Watch out for ice,” Oscar said. “We’ll brush our teeth with bottled.”

“There’s a top-of-the-line filtration system,” the man who had given us the welcome speech said. His nametag labeled him Stan. “All of the water on the resort is safe for consumption. We also keep bottled refreshments stocked for anyone who prefers.”

“I live outside of the resort. It’s just a me problem. You guys will be fine.” Esme’s eyes slowly widened, and she smashed her lips together like she might be sick again.

It sounded likesheshould have been drinking bottled water, at least that’s if her story was true. Big if.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later. Sorry to bail so soon,” she said.

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