My mom and dad ended up spending the next month covering dry cleaning bills for my classmates’ stained clothing and apologizing profusely to my friends’ parents for my brothers’ colorful language.
After dinner ended tonight, I told them I was headed to Kerry’s apartment to catch up with her. I didn’t mention this small party or the fact that I would continue my birthday drinking binge without them.
I down the last few drops of my second martini when I feel Harrison’s gaze on me.
“Hello again, London,” he says in a deep tone.
My gaze flies up to meet his. “London?”
He glances at the bracelet on my wrist, which sets his eyes on a path up my body, finally settling on the vision of my perked nipples beneath the thin silk of the dress.
I should be wearing a bra, but my tits looked too spectacular in this dress to mess with, so the only underwear presently on my body is a red lace thong.
“London?” I repeat.
“Since you refused to give me your name, I’ve had to improvise,” he explains. “You love London, so I thought it was fitting.”
I love cotton candy, jazz music, and a nice big cock, too, but no one has ever christened me with any of those for a nickname.
“What are you drinking?” he asks before I can get a word in.
“Apple martini,” I say. “But that was my last. I’m calling it a night.”
“Like hell you are.” He motions toward the bartender as his gaze skirts over the collection of liquor bottles on a shelf above the bar. “Another apple martini and scotch neat for me, the best label you have.”
The guy nods, and when Harrison turns his attention back to me, I swear the bartender shoots him a look that could kill.
A smile creeps over my lips because I’ve seen that reaction when I’ve been out with Declan. There’s something certain people loathe about a rich man.
Harrison sits next to me, his gaze never leaving my face. “You seem surprised to see me here.”
“You pronounced shocked wrong,” I say.
That sends his head back in laughter. “Shocked?”
I nervously glance over his shoulder to where the few lingering guests of my party are.
Kerry is three stools away with her eyes pinned to the back of Harry’s head. It’s only a matter of time until she wanders over and says my name.
All I need is for Harrison to tell Sean that I was hanging out at a bar after lying about my plans.
It wouldn’t break our bond, but I know it would disappoint my brother, and if I can avoid that, I will.
“Full confession,” Harrison says as he watches the bartender. “I overheard you telling someone that you would meet them here tonight, so I showed up.”
I replay our elevator encounter in my mind. He’s the only person I talked to in that cramped space. “When did you hear that?”
“I was behind you after you left the building yesterday,” he confesses. “You took a call while you were waiting to cross the street a few blocks from there.”
My eyes widen with surprise. “Are you stalking me?”
His gaze drops to the front of my dress before he trails his eyes back up to my face. “Stalking is a harsh word. I was curious after you called me Harry, so I came here to find out more about that.”
It’s not as though it’s a deep, dark mystery.
If he kept his eyes on my face instead of sneaking glances at my breasts every five seconds, he’d put two and two together and realize I’m Sean’s younger sister.
The bartender reappears with a martini in one hand and a tumbler filled with amber liquid in the other.
“Since you’re footing the bill for everyone’s drinks tonight, do you want me to add this guy’s to your tab?” he asks me with a tilt of his chin.
Harrison glances around the bar again. “Everyone?”
“Yeah, everyone.” The bartender crosses his tattooed arms over his chest. “She said to run a tab for all of them, so I want to know if she’s covering your drink.”
Harry looks at me. “You’re buying drinks for the bar tonight?”
I nod nervously. “I’m generous.”
That lures the corner of his lips up into an almost grin. “I am too.”
Something tells me that he’s not talking about drinks anymore.
I need to stop this before he realizes who I am.
My hand dives into my clutch to fish out my credit card, but before I can get my fingers on it, Harry has his on the bar. “Charge everything to this.”
The guy grabs the card and glances at it. “Harrison Keene. I knew it was you.”
“Do we know each other?” Harrison shoots the bartender a smile, seemingly oblivious to the scowl on the guy’s face. “Remind me who you are.”
“You know who I am,” the bartender spits back.
The look on Harry’s face suggests he doesn’t. That’s no big surprise to me because he has yet to figure out who I am.