Page 8 of Privilege
“Possessive little thing, aren't you?”
She shrugs. “Not really. I just don’t like assholes.”
“No girls like anal.”
“You’re doing it wrong, then.”
I nearly swallow my tongue.
She lifts her drink at someone, like she’s pointing. “That’s the Queen Bee, I assume?”
Her voice is a little sharper, this time, but I can barely hear her over the buzzing in my ears:You’re doing it wrong then. Jesus. I follow where she’s pointing and frown. Ah yes, Jamie.
“Good eye,” I mutter.
“His ex?”
I exhale. “The one and not-only.”And she’s got her paws on Rich’s chest.
Jamie’s always been his kryptonite, has always known exactly what to say, what buttons to push. He’s no good on-the-spot, and she tugs his strings like a marionette.
I sigh again, because even though Cara appears to have a good head on her shoulders and the unique ability to conduct herself with decorum, my sweet brother Dick is clueless and going to fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
Dane to the rescue. As always.
I sling my arm around Cara’s shoulders, pull her in close, and rub her upper arm with my thumb. She turns her head sharply, glares up at me and tries to step out of my embrace but I grip her tighter. I can feel the shift in Rich’s attention—I’ve always known when Rich’s eyes are on me—so I sink my fingers into her skin and grin when Rich shoves Jamie out of the way.
There ya go, brother… Better late than never.
“What do you think you’re doing!” she hisses.
“Taking care of things,” I say.
She pauses, eyebrows drawing down, striking blue eyes boring into mine while she considers my words. My stomach flip-flops. Her gaze is too sharp, too shrewd, and Idon't fucking like it.But I’m spared the indignity of looking away first because Rich steps between us, eases her gently backward, and then gets right up in my face.
“It’s been an hour, man. One fucking hour and you’re already moving in on my girlfriend?”
We’re chest to chest and his face is liquid fire. He's spitting fucking mad, the kind of mad that has marinaded for a long, long time.
Go ahead and hate me, Rich. It’s better for everyone this way.
The air blisters with tension. I am suddenly achingly aware of the pressure of his chest on mine and my heart thumps so hard in my ribcage it bumps up against the bones.
Rich looks older, somehow. Like he grew up.
And I missed it.
His face softens a little, but then someone gently grips my arm and I jump. Rich and I both look down, where Cara has put one hand on each of us, her eyes wide, glancing back and forth between us like she’s trying to figure something out.
Good luck with that, Cara.
I step back as Rich slides his arm around her waist, drops his mouth to her bare shoulder and kisses her without looking away from me.
It’s a clear warning, a territorial display very out of character for my notoriously neutral brother. I smirk and salute him, spin on my heel, and head back towards the bar. My work here is done. I’d forgotten what a thankless job it is looking after him.
The unmistakableglacialgaze of my step-mother hits me like a cold wind. Nobody can shrink your balls like Evelyn van der Beer. But it’s too late—the damage is done and the rumours will fly, butreally? They’d fly either way. May as well give them something juicy.
The slicked back ponytail girl appears in my path holding another Negroni, and I try to picture her without the tinted eyebrows and fake eyelashes. It’s hard. She kind of reminds me of the actors in that Shakespeare play they do in Central Park. The one with all the fairies where everyone fucks.
