Brothers of Paradise Series

Faye smiles back sweetly. “I’m not afraid. Henry has been nothing but a gentleman since we first met.” She turns those dark eyes up at me, pressing closer against my side. Playing the part effortlessly. “Should I be?”

“Afraid? No.”

She giggles, a sound I’ve never heard from her before, and turns sharp eyes on Avery. “He really is something special, isn’t he?”Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“You could say that,” Avery says smoothly, “if you enjoy a life of schedule and routine. Oh, don’t look sullen, Henry. Surely she already knows you’re not one for spontaneity.”

Faye’s fingers dig into my arm, but her voice is cool. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one. A man can be as organized as he likes, as long as he’s as good in bed as Henry. But I don’t need to mention that to you, of course.”

What? I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning. It’s beyond inappropriate, and judging from Avery’s bulging eyes, she has no idea what to respond. Beaten at her own game.

“Yes. Well. I think I’ll leave you to it, then.” She stops a few feet away, turning back like she wants to add something, but thinks better of it and strides away. Her high heels click against the marble as she disappears into the crowd.

Faye immediately drops my arm. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are filled with apprehension. “God. Was that too much? That last part…”

I can’t help it-I burst out laughing. This woman is insane, and spirited, and a fighter if I’ve ever seen one.

Her face softens. “She called me honey, and I saw red. I couldn’t let her win.”

“You certainly didn’t. Faye, can you accompany me to all these events? They’d never be dull again.”

“So I’m entertainment now, huh? I thought I was here to work.” Her smile still in place, she nods at where Avery ran off. “An old ex?”

“Yes.”

“I take it it didn’t end well.”

“Not particularly, no. She was more invested than I was.”

Faye nods. “I didn’t mean to upset her. But then she basically called you boring…”

“She’s not upset, her pride is just wounded. Don’t worry about it.” I certainly wouldn’t. Never had a woman defended me like that before.

Faye sighs and turns so that we’re side to side, watching the crowd mingle. “So, are you enjoying yourself?”

“Tremendously,” I say dryly. “Can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.”

She snorts. “I don’t think I can talk to another stranger.”

“Well, you make it look easy.” No one watching her work that floor would think anything else. Faye looks down, her long lashes sweeping over her cheeks. She’s wearing more makeup tonight than usual, I think. Her lips look luscious-deep red and full. It would be so easy to tip her head back and taste them.

I tear my gaze away and out over the crowd. I want to make her smile again-to laugh in earnest. “What do you think? These are the type of people you dragged in your cover letter, you know.”

Faye’s eyes widen. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Some of them rightly so, as well.”

“You think?”

“Yes,” I say, enjoying her surprise. “I wonder what other stereotypes we can find in here… Hmm. See at that couple, over there?” I nod discreetly at a bickering couple in the opposite corner. The wife is dressed up to the nines, her face partially taut in the way that indicates too much Botox. Her husband is looking at her as she scolds away.

“Yes?”

“He’s sleeping with the au-pair, and she with the pool boy.”

Faye’s lips curve into a wicked smile. “That’s a terrible assumption.”

“I know. Maybe they’re only arguing whether it’s acceptable to name their new dog Tripp the III, or if it would upset Tripp Junior.”

She laughs, amusement dancing in her eyes. “That guy over there has a house in the Hamptons, mortgaged to the brim, but considers it an investment in his brand.”

“The woman in the corner? Brown hair? She devotes her life to philanthropy, but if you’d actually investigate, over half of the donations go to her beauty treatments.”

“Mmm,” Faye murmurs. “And the people at the main table have all bribed Ivy League colleges to get their children with average grades and crashed cars admission.”

“Not bribed, Miss. Alvarez. Generously donated.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course. Forgive me and my rash, uncivilized tongue.”

“I’ll take it under consideration.”

Her smile softens again-something different from the megawatt one she can turn on and off at will. There’s genuine amusement in her eyes.

She enjoys the battle of wits as much as I do.

“You’re not what I expected,” she says.

“No?”

“No. Not at all.”

It’s hard, then, to avoid stepping closer, to run her hair through my fingers and see if it’s just as silky to the touch. To trace her teasing lips and tell her she’s nothing like I expected either.

“Well,” I say instead. “I live to amaze.”

Faye rolls her eyes again. The gesture has an odd effect on me; endearing, rather than infuriating. “Exaggerator.”

I offer her my arm again. “Once more unto the breach?”

“You’re quoting Henry the V now?”

“I knew you’d catch that,” I say, leading us through the main gallery. She’d majored in Architecture, but she’d minored in English Literature-I’d read her CV. We weave past another giant ice sculpture and stop next to the string quartet. Hands fly over instruments, and I’m struck, as always, by awe in the face of sheer talent.

“Imagine having to play for all of these guests,” I say quietly, “knowing none of them will really be paying attention.”

Faye doesn’t respond. Her arm is stiff in mine, her back straight as cardboard. I follow her gaze to the man standing opposite us in the gallery. His gray hair, the rotund build, the hooded eyes. Elliot Ferris.

For a second, I think Faye is afraid of him. But then I catch sight of the blush on her cheeks and the fire in her eyes. She’s not afraid. She’s furious.