Page 16 of Married to the Beasts
In the end, she and I both order lobster tail, which is served with a baked potato and asparagus. Conal and Rafe get steaks, while Bron is served the fanciest burger I’ve ever seen, made of wagyu beef and topped with caramelized onions and truffle aioli. He offers me a bite, but I decline on behalf of my stomach, though it does look good.
Sure enough, Bliss and I are given bibs. Bron helps my friend with hers, while Conal ties mine at the back of my neck, his fingers lighting me up when they brush against my bare skin.
The food is incredibly delicious, and I’m grateful that I can enjoy it, even though my stomach still feels a bit hesitant.
As we eat, servers quietly come and go through a sliding panel door, but when we’re almost done, there’s a loud knock immediately followed by someone opening the door with rough haste.
As a lean man with thick blond hair comes in, Conal jumps to his feet. “Alan, we’re having a private meal here.”
“I see that. Is this why you’ve been too busy to take my calls or answer my texts?” He looks around the room with a fake smile fixed in place. His eyes pause on both me and Bliss, and he gives us curt nods of greeting.
“It’s a holiday, Alan, and not only that, you’re interrupting ourweddingbrunch. I’m sorry, but you’re not invited.”
The man hesitates, mouth open, and I’m sure he’s about to argue, but Conal starts toward him, and one of the security guys appears in the doorway, placing a hand on Alan’s shoulder.
“Fine. I’ll leave, but I expect a call early tomorrow morning. I’d like you all to be on it.” He aims this demand at Conal, Rafe, and Bron, who appear unconcerned.
Once he’s gone, Conal apologizes for the interruption.
“Who was that, your manager?” I ask.
“PR manager. He’s a prick.”
“Is something wrong?” As soon as I ask, it hits me. “Oh, is he upset about the marriage?”
Conal waves away my concern. “Don’t pay him any attention. He’s always like that. Who wants dessert?”
I don’t order anything, but all three brothers end up sharing a taste of theirs with me.
First, Conal offers me a raspberry from his fruit cocktail, which is so far from the canned version that it’s laughable. He plucks a bright red berry from the dish of artfully arranged fruits, some of which I can’t even identify, and holds it up to my mouth, not letting go until my lips wrap around both it and the tips of his fingers.
I pray my cheeks don’t turn as red as the fruit.
Next, Bron gives me a bite of his cheesecake. Some of it ends up on my lips, and he watches closely when I use my tongue to collect it.
By the time Rafe feeds me a spoonful of the creamy chocolate concoction he’s eating, I’m nearly ready to combust, and I don’t dare glance at Bliss, because I can only imagine what she’s thinking.
Right after lunch, Conal suggests we go shopping, and I get an earful from Bliss as soon as she and I are alone in the dressing room of the clothing store.
HAZEL
For me, clothes shopping means going to a big discount department store with coupons in hand, maybe a small shop at the mall, or an online deal. Sometimes thrifting, if I’m in the right mood.
Shopping with the Black Pythons is something else entirely. We take a limo to a building only a few blocks away that’s so shiny in the sun, I have to shield my eyes. Several security guys surround the group of us as we walk in, and I feel more conspicuous than I ever have in my life.
Many of the other shoppers don’t take notice, but several gape, and as we approach a group of younger people, things get hectic. Women scream the men’s names, shove their phones out to take pictures and videos, and when they try to get too close, the security team keeps them at bay.
Last night, we were partying in very private and exclusive spaces—as far as I recall—so we didn’t experience much of this. The attention from strangers comes as no surprise, but it’s odd, nonetheless. It must get tiring for the men, but they don’t seem bothered.
Conal leads us to a store where we have to be admitted past an actual velvet rope, and inside, instead of racks full of clothing for us to sift through, individual items are displayed on shelves and hangers as if each of them demands a specific amount of personal space, free from visual clutter.
I would never walk into a place like this by myself, assuming I’d even be allowed in, and I’m at a loss for how to shop here. Everything looks far too expensive to even touch, much less buy.
Luckily, the men seem right at home, and as their security team stays near the entrance ensuring we have privacy, the Curran brothers, especially Conal and Rafe, who seem more interested in clothes than Bron, select things for both me and Bliss to try on.
Something else that comes as no surprise: they have good taste. Rafe picks out a couple of black and dark neutral items, while Conal chooses clothes that are brighter or patterned.
A very serious looking sales associate collects the clothing and escorts us to the fitting area, offering us water, wine, or champagne on the way.
