Benny first opens up a catalog to show me the tuxedos Mother wants us to wear, and yeah, it’s dope as hell, I can’t deny it. The moment I put the sample suit on, I feel like a fucking pimp, strutting out of the dressing room with my head held high, silently approving of the fit, despite how long the sleeves are on me.
“What do you think?” I hold my arms out for my brothers, standing proud.
Winston’s expression barely changes as he murmurs, “Nice.”
He returns his attention to his phone.
“Looks good,” Keaton agrees with a nod.
I saunter to the dais in front of the three-way mirror, standing on top of it as Benny brings out his measuring tape and gets to work. Winston’s head is bent as he taps away at his phone. Keaton gets a phone call and walks away to take it.
“Mother sent me a few of your engagement photos,” Winston says, gaze still glued on his phone.
I frown at my reflection in the mirror. “Why would she send them to you?”
“For my approval.” He lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. “I keep tabs on every Constantine as best I can. And I am in charge of this deal.”
Love how my future has turned into a business deal.
“Did they meet your approval?” I snap, wincing when Benny accidently sticks my wrist with a pin.
“They’ll do.” He hesitates for only a moment, his focus on his phone once more. “Your bride-to-be is stunning.”
“She’s—something else. A little bitchy if you ask me.” Benny sticks me again, and I wonder if he did it on purpose for me calling her that. “Ow.”
“Sorry, sir.” He doesn’t sound very sorry at all, but at least has the decency to keep his head bowed.
“Not easy and always agreeable like you?” Winston asks.
“Yeah, no. You’d probably love her. She’s mean. Thinks I’m ridiculous.” I don’t know if I would go so far as to call hermean, but she’s not particularly pleasant either.
“She’s a Lancaster. They’re either mean spirited or crazy.” Winston shakes his head. “Do you two at least get along?”
“I would hope so, since they’re getting married,” Benny mutters to himself, but loud enough for me to hear him.
Winston is annoyed by his commentary. Minus the sticking-me-with-pins part, I find it amusing.
“I guess,” I say with a shrug, causing Benny to grumble with annoyance as a pin falls to the floor with a gentle ping. He swoops down to pick it up. “We have nothing in common.”
“Do you need to?”
“I mean, we’ll want to talk to each other.”
“Really? Well, I suppose not everyone gets what I have with my wife.” His expression turns thoughtful, the lucky son of a bitch. “Considering your situation, I would think your new wife is useful for looking beautiful on your arm in public and welcoming your dick into her mouth or pussy whenever you want to fuck her.” Winston casts Benny an evil glare, just daring him to say something.
The wise man keeps his mouth shut.
“I don’t want to fuck her,” I say, though the words feel like a lie.
I just can’t imagine fucking her.
Yeah, no. That feels like a lie, too.
I can imagine it. But I don’t see her being particularly agreeable. And I like my women sweet in bed. I’m not some sick, twisted fuck like my older brother.
I’ve heard the stories. Witnessed enough interaction between Winston and Ash to know they’re up to some kinky shit.
I can’t imagine doing one kinky thing with Charlotte. Not a one.