An Improper Deal(8)

“Nah. Have you?”

“No. I even tried calling his agent, but she won’t answer.”

“There’s a rumor that he fired her before the vanishing act.”

“Good god. Really?”

I nod. “But since I haven’t heard it from the horse’s mouth…” I trail off when our server returns with the wine and an appetizer of various thinly sliced sashimi-grade fish drizzled with ginger- and wasabi-infused sauce. The wine tastes like liquid gold, smooth and fragrant with oak, berries and a hint of roses. I’ve never had anything but the best at Mark’s restaurant. The man can tell the exact year and vintage of any wine from a single taste, so he’s pretty exacting about what his restaurants serve.

When we’re alone again, I resume our talk. “Regardless, Ryder’s fine. He’s always led a charmed life. Besides, he can smile his way out of anything.”

Elizabeth nods once. “That’s true…I guess. Paige’s gone to see him, so I’m guessing he’s probably too busy to get into trouble.”

I laugh. “Most likely.”

“But…I don’t know. He sent out cards canceling the ceremony. I mean, what does that mean?”

That gives me pause too. “No idea, but I hope he doesn’t screw things up with her. She’s actually good for him.”

“No kidding.” Elizabeth puts a piece of salmon in her mouth. “So…are you really going to marry a stripper?”

“Oh yeah. Bet on it. As a matter of fact, Ryder said he’s sending me the very best on my birthday.”

Elizabeth turns serious, and concern darkens her eyes. “You can have anyone you want, Elliot. You don’t have to settle like this.”

“It’s going to be for a year, not a day more. If I married an heiress or someone like that, she’d have, you know, expectations.” I shudder.

“Would that be so bad?”

“Yes.” I take a long swallow of my wine. “I want zero expectations. Well…except for sex. Gotta have the sex.”

As I expect, she makes a face and pulls away. “TMI.”

I chuckle. “Besides, worry about yourself.”

“Me?”

“You have to marry soon too.”

Fucking Dad. He got into a snit over us kids missing his Wedding Number Six. So he’s decided that we all have to marry within six months for at least a year or we can kiss our grandfather’s portraits of us goodbye. No way in hell am I gonna allow that to happen. The portraits are oil paintings, brilliantly executed by the only person in our family who gave a damn about us. Grandpa Thomas was a world-famous artist; he said the portraits represent us at our best, and that he wanted us to remember how worthy we are every time we look at them. Due to a clusterfuck situation with his will, they went to Dad instead. Damn it.

I bet he’s enjoying making us dance to his tune. He can’t stand us, me and my twin brother Lucas in particular. Our mom not only left him in order to marry his half-brother, but Lucas and I made our first billion in our twenties, while he wasn’t able to amass that kind of fortune until he was well into his thirties, and even then it was with his first wife’s help.

Jealous and petty. Dad in a nutshell.

“I’ll think of something,” Elizabeth says.

“Get some poor schmuck who will be grateful for a bit of your money, but won’t, you know, bother you for the other stuff.”

A carefully waxed eyebrow arches. “What, no sex for me?”

It’s my turn to make a face. “Ugh. No! You’re like Mother Teresa. You can’t do that kind of thing.”

She chuffs out a laugh.

Our server clears the table and brings out the soup. Mine is a lobster bisque, and hers is cream of crab. The bisque is damn good. If I owned a restaurant like this, I’d get fat. “Seriously. You’re a woman,” I say.

“Am I now? I hadn’t noticed.”

“What I mean is, you’re going to have expectations, you’re going to get vulnerable. Women just do when they have sex. They think it means something more than it should. And you in particular. You’re a nice person; it’s gonna happen. Plus, you haven’t dated seriously for what, five years now? It’s been a long ti—”

“Four,” she corrects, her voice suddenly brittle. “And I appreciate your concern, but I’m a big girl and can handle myself.”

Four years, and still she reacts like that. I shake my head. “I wish duels were legal.”

“I’m glad they aren’t. You would’ve been shot dead.”

I laugh. “No. I’m an awesome marksman. I’d kill anybody who hurt you.”