Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance(119)

“Yeah. You?”

“Oh, this and that,” Jackson averred, crinkling his face into a humble smile. “Are you listing the house, Margot?”

“No, Margot and I are old friends,” Kevin answered. “I’m actually based out of San Francisco now.”

“Ah, San Francisco,” Jackson said, looking at me meaningfully. But the expression was gone in a flash. “Let’s get you a drink, Kev. What will you have?”

Ohhhh shit, I groaned inwardly, realizing Jackson had put it all together just like that: Kevin the ex-boyfriend, who I had gone to see in San Francisco, the night before I met the Burkes while wearing my trashy day-after outfit, and now I had invited him to dinner. God, you’re a jerk sometimes, Margot.

“Where did you come from!” I said with over-acted surprise as Bridget hobbled into the living room on red stilettos, clutching two bottles of wine. As per her usual, she had just let herself in. She paused for a moment and leaned back from the four of us, taking in the scene. Finally Kevin walked over to her and held out his hands.

“Malbec,” she drawled and stared at him like he smelled awful. Kevin took the wine with a perplexed expression and stalked back to the wet bar.

“Honey baby!” she cooed at me, throwing out her arms and leaning over in an air hug. “Oh look, we’re both wearing blue.”

“We sure are,” I agreed, checking out her skin tight Chinese silk dress. She may have been poured into it. “You can sit in that?” I whispered.

“I’ll just unzip it,” she explained.

“Huh.”

“Oh my god,” she whispered dramatically, staring at the gathering at the wet bar. I stood in front of her to block her access.

“Seriously, Bridge. I can have you killed.”

“Oh, you say that all the time.”

I watched her eyes but didn’t turn around, preferring to see my men through the expressions that flitted across her overly made up face. Her eyebrows arched as far as the Botox would let them but only at the outside corners, and her mouth formed a perfect red O of amazement. A flush started at her collarbones and marched straight up over her cheeks, gleaming pinkly.

“Please fix your face,” I hissed at her.

She blinked. Twice. Then she looked at me. Her kohl-black eyes shone brightly. Were those actual tears?

“Sweetheart, I am so filled with love for you right now, I just don’t even know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. Seriously, Bridge. Be good.”

Who me? she mouthed dramatically. I glared at her and pantomimed some kind of cruel punishment. It may or may not have made any sense, but I was under the gun.

I turned around to see what she saw. Declan and Jackson were standing casually with Kevin chatting like a trio of magazine models. Jackson wore a tight, black t-shirt that clung to his biceps, and Declan wore a raw silk jersey with the buttons half undone. Kevin had on his customary logo polo, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that.

All three looked at me at once, and a thrill whipped through my chest like a thunderclap. Jackson winked one bright blue eye. Declan started walking toward us.

“Declan,” she purred as she held out her hand, taking tiny, wobbly steps toward the bar.

“Wonderful to see you again,” he said suavely, picking up her hand and kissing the knuckles. She giggled and I tried not to roll my eyes. “You remember Jackson of course…”

“Of course.”

“And I’d like to introduce you to Anneka Torsson.”

“How do you do?” Anneka said graciously.

“How do you do?” Bridget said politely, then turned her head to me and blinked her eyes in a cartoonish expression that said perfectly: Zoiks. Get a load of her!

I loved her for that.

One of the white-coated chefs appeared at Bridget’s elbow and asked if we would like to start salads now, so we all meandered over to the table. Bridget staggered dangerously behind me and held her hands out stiffly from her thighs for balance. She took her seat at the head of the table and grinned delightedly while we all stared at the remaining chairs and each other, momentarily perplexed.

Jackson stepped forward and pulled out the chair next to Bridget for me and I sat, grateful he had taken the initiative. When his hip brushed mine, he nudged me just slightly. The silk slipped across my lace thong and ripples of pleasure flickered through my body. He slid in next to me as Declan led Anneka to the far side of the table, then sat across from me. Kevin scowled for a moment before taking the seat at the other end from Bridget.

“What we have here is a sweet pea tendril salad,” Mike explained as the plates were set before us, “with heirloom pear tomatoes and dungeness crab.”