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Now Mallory is wearing that stupid fucking smirk too.
“Mr. and Mrs. Smith are business associates of Henry’s, and lastly—” She turns to the other end of the table. “You know Dean.”
Yes, I know Dean. The idiot who’s sitting by himself and throwing back a shot of amber-colored liquid. Top buttons of his shirt undone. Legs sprawled like he couldn’t care less about being here.
No one stands. No one says hello. It’s simple nods of acknowledgment before returning to their previous conversations. Tonight, Kennedy dropped the bomb that she’s married and no one seems to give a fuck.
Well, no one but Connor, who I spot watching us out of the corner of his eye as we take our seats. So I make sure to drop a chaste kiss to the back of Kennedy’s freckled hand before I let it go.
His jaw works.
I fucking love it.
This is going to be fun.
The conversation continues at the other end of the table. Something about hotels, expansions, and franchising. It doesn’t take long for me to figure out that Kennedy’s family owns a hotel chain. A big one that most everyone has heard of and one I’ve stayed at on multiple occasions.
All those zeros listed on our post-nuptial agreement make a whole lot of sense now.
Henry constantly pulls Connor into the conversation. They tag team kissing the Smiths’ asses. Apparently, they’re trying to buy an inn that the Smiths own in Midtown and convert it to a high-rise.
Mr. Smith doesn’t seem ready to make any decisions, so Connor orders a bottle of red wine for the table.
A two thousand-dollar bottle of red.
Dean orders another Macallan single malt neat and shoots it back as if it were Jack or Jim and not a seventeen-hundred-dollar bottle of Scotch.
“What?” he asks when he spots me watching him. “Want one or something?”
“That’s like a two-hundred-dollar shot.”
“Three hundred, but Daddy’s paying so go ahead and order one.”
Henry shoots Dean a dirty look from the other end of the table. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out those two don’t get along.
He’s always harped on my lack of family but I’d take Kai any day over whatever the fuck you’d call the group in this room.
“Go ahead, Rhodes. It’ll impress his clients. Show them how much money he has to throw around.”
“Dean,” Jennifer scolds from the other end of the table. She then sends that same dirty glare in Kennedy’s direction for no reason, as if silently reminding the two of them that they’re the family’s biggest disappointments.
One is a fucking doctor and the other is a professional baseball player, which only speaks volumes to the priorities this family has. If you’re not in the family business, or contributing to the family business through marriage, you’re not important.
“I’m good,” I say quietly to Dean before checking in on the redhead at my side, who is very much not doing well.
No one else has spoken to her or her stepbrother.
Dean, I understand because he fucking sucks, but Kennedy... I can’t imagine not having all my attention on her.
She sits primly at my side. Listening intently to the conversation in case she’s needed. The perfect daughter. She nods and smiles, but no one has noticed her.
Mallory has, I guess. Connor too. Why else would they suddenly be all handsy with each other, as if they’re giving her a show to tell her what she’s missing out on.
The smallest entrée I’ve ever seen is served on the plate in front of me, and I catch Kennedy watching them throughout the course. Each bite is accompanied by a subtle glance to her stepsister, tracing the way her fingers toy with the ends of Connor’s hair. The way Connor turns and whispers into Mallory’s ear, earning an overacted laugh. The way he runs his palm up and down her leg.
Kennedy’s stare is full of... longing.
Is she jealous?
