Her husband grabs her hand over the table and strokes the back of it as he speaks. “Yeah, that’s why I asked. I have a few English friends and they’re famous assholes.”
“Really?” Kyle finishes his glass of wine and pours another. “Who?”
“Aiden King and Cole Nash.”
“The heirs to the King and Nash fortunes.”
“You know them?”
“Everyone in England does. Their companies are everywhere like cockroaches.” Kyle continues sipping from his wine, or more like gulping it down. “I have a personal acquaintance with Aiden’s father, Jonathan King.”
“What type of acquaintance?” Reina asks.
“It’s not the type to be brought up at family dinners.”
“I know what you do, Kyle.” She stares between the both of us. “This is a judgment-free zone. I accept my sister and her other half the way they are.”
Kyle scoffs at ‘the other half’ part, and I pinch his thigh under the table. He grabs my hand and gently pushes it away from his pants. My heart thuds as something hard and heavy clinks to the bottom of my stomach.
It’s the first time Kyle has rejected my touch. Usually, he would be the one all over me, teasing and making me squirm at Sergei’s dining table, and I’d be the one pushing him away.
What happened just now?
“Rai!”
“Huh?” I stare up at Reina, unable to focus. “Did you say something?”
“I was asking if you want a soda.”
“I’m good.” My gaze trails to Kyle, who’s downing his third glass. I lean in to whisper, “You’ll get drunk.”
“So?”
“You…don’t like being drunk.” He told me that once, said he rarely allows himself more than a glass because being drunk distorts his thought process.
“Maybe I do.” He barely spares me a glance as he pours himself another glass.
By the end of the evening, he’s well and truly drunk. Ruslan and Asher have to help me carry him to the back of the car.
I hug Reina, who came out to see us off. “I’m going to put guards on you for the next couple of days, so please don’t say no. It’ll make me feel at ease.”
“And you’ll visit more often?”
“I will.”
“Fine.” Then she whispers, “Remember, talk about it. I almost lost Ash because we didn’t sit down and talk, so don’t repeat my mistake, Rai.”
I rub her back once before I let her go, and get into the back seat. I wave at Reina, and she waves back as Asher spoons her from behind, removing his sweater and wrapping it around her shoulders.
Ruslan stays with them as guard, which reminds me to ask Sergei to send a few more to Reina’s side. He always wanted to put guards on her, but I respected her wishes of wanting to live a normal life.
As the car moves, I stare at Kyle, who’s passed out beside me. His head is slung back on the leather seat and his lips are slightly parted. The first two buttons of his shirt are open, revealing his taut skin and his lean, muscular build.
Was he always this attractive, or am I just too drunk on him as he is on wine?
I’m mad at him, I am, but I can’t resist it as I reach out a tentative hand and palm his cheek. My touch is soft, experimental. I’ve never actually touched him to my heart’s content before. It’s always felt as if he’s the one who does that and I needn’t do anything.
His head tilts until it falls on my shoulder. I suck in a deep breath, but all I manage to inhale into my lungs is his masculine scent mixed with the wine.
He wraps an arm around my waist, and tingles erupt under my skin. I slowly close my eyes, taking in the sensation. Why does it feel so good to be in his hold? It’s not even about sex. I just love being in his arms like this.
“Straight home, miss?” Katia asks from the driver’s seat.
“Yeah,” I say without opening my eyes.
“Since you weren’t able to do what you planned for the afternoon, should I clear your schedule for tomorrow?”
“No, not yet.”
I think I must fall asleep, because the next time I open my eyes, Katia is calling my name.
Kyle untangles himself from around me, and I try to ignore the loss. I expected that Katia would have to help me carry him upstairs, but he staggers on his own.
“Get some rest,” I tell her and follow him.
I try to hold his arm to keep him standing, but he pulls it from mine.
That’s the second time he’s done that tonight, and I can’t control the lash of my tongue. “I’m just trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” he slurs.
“Well, excuse me for trying.”
I stomp ahead of him toward the room and throw my bag on the bed as soon as I’m inside. My blood is boiling as I remain standing in front of the mattress.