“My half-sister,” Elliot adds, then addresses his sister again. “I see you already met Nonny.”
“Yes. She’s such a sweetie.”
Nonny flushes, then looks at me. “Did you know she’s Ryder Reed’s sister?”
Ryder Reed is her favorite actor. But then, he’s a lot of women’s favorite.
Nonny stops with a sudden gasp, her eyes going wide as she turns to Elliot. “Wait…that means you’re related to him too!”
“Yep,” he says.
His hand rests on the back of my chair, and the thumb is brushing against my bare shoulder. I suppress a shiver as heat starts at the contact.
“Show me the ring!” Nonny says.
“Yes, show them the ring,” Elliot says lazily.
Licking my suddenly dry lips, I extend my hand. Elizabeth nods with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Nonny squeals. “Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous!”
Forcing what I hope looks like a happy smile, I let her admire the ring for a minute or two before pulling my hand back. “We should probably order.”
Elizabeth and Elliot don’t bother to look at the leather-bound menu. It’s obvious they know exactly what they want, while my eyes cross at all the options. Even before everything tumbled down on my family, we never ate at a restaurant this fancy.
“I’ll have whatever you recommend,” I say finally, giving up.
Nonny’s shameless. “Does Ryder Reed come here a lot?”
“Fairly often,” Elizabeth says.
“Oh my god, that’s so cool! I’ll take whatever he usually has.”
“Fine, but no scotch,” Elliot says.
“Really? Is that, like, his favorite drink?”
I tense. She’s only fifteen, and she has no business talking about hard liquor with that kind of longing in her voice, even if it is her favorite actor’s poison of choice. “Nonny—”
“He rarely drinks,” Elizabeth says smoothly. “Alcohol is bad for an actor’s career. Makes you age prematurely.”
From the way Elliot snorts softly, I know she’s lying. But I’m grateful anyway. It’s bad enough that Nonny is at the age when she’s curious about stuff like this. I don’t want anything to encourage her in any way.
Our server takes our order and brings a bottle of a white wine I’ve never heard of. I turn it down, opting for sparkling water instead. Elliot cocks an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment.
When the food comes, it’s simply…exceptional. I’m not a big seafood eater, and the portions aren’t large, but everything melts in my mouth in an incredibly perfect blend of herbs and sauces.
“So…when’s the big day?” Elizabeth asks.
“ASAP,” Elliot answers. “Probably tomorrow.”
“Do you want me there? I can cancel my meetings.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Nonny looks at me. “I want to be there.”
“You have school,” I say.
A stubborn look enters her eyes.
“It’s going to be a very small ceremony,” Elliot says. “And since it’s happening so soon, I doubt anyone from my family’s going to show.”
“Not even Ryder Reed?” Nonny says.
“Especially not Ryder. He’s on his honeymoon in Thailand.”
Her shoulders sag in that dramatic end-of-the-world way only teenagers can manage.
“But when he’s in L.A., maybe we can see him.” Elliot winks conspiratorially.
I jerk at the unexpected kindness. I’m sure women want introductions to his more famous brother all the time, and he could’ve just dismissed Nonny. After all, she’s just extra baggage in this transaction of ours, and I’m not going to expect that he treat her as anything more.
But this…? I don’t think he did it out of calculation. He already has my signature on the agreement.
I frown at the sea bream on my plate. I don’t want him to be nice to us, and especially not to Nonny. She doesn’t understand what the deal is. I don’t want her to develop unrealistic expectations, which can be dangerous. She’s already experienced enough disappointments in life.
And I’m torn; he’s not acting like a moneyed and entitled jerk around Nonny. Nothing much can get to me, but kindness to my sister? There’s no weapon more potent.
He is probably too well-bred to blow her off, I tell myself. Despite his wealthy family, he doesn’t strike me as the type who grew up with everything handed to him on a silver platter. And he made his own fortune, separate from his father’s.
But he isn’t well-bred enough to keep his hands to himself. A small brush of fingers. The cool glide of his slacks against my bare calves as he shifts. The casual way he pulls a tendril of hair off my flushed cheek.