Page 90 of Bittersweet Revenge

“Don’t you have some meeting with the douches of St. Esperance?”

I looked at my brother for an explanation.

“St. Esperance is an elite private school here in Manhattan. They are our debate team’s rivals and we crushed them. When father was quite reluctant to let me come on this trip, I arranged a meeting with the team he couldn’t refuse.” He turned back to Caleb and added, “And it’s tomorrow, but thank you for the concern.” His voice was laden with sarcasm.

I reached over and patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, Archibald Forbes, you are totally welcome to come with us. You all are,” I added, meeting Taylor’s eyes in the mirror.

“Sorry, best friend, but it’s Fifth Avenue shopping for me. You’re welcome to join, but–”

“I’ll pass. I can go shopping anywhere. I want to visit!

Taylor sighed. “Oh, Esme, no you can’t. Fifth Avenue shopping is a bit like Rodeo Drive shopping – you can’t really do that everywhere.”

I nodded. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe never,” Archie whispered, making us both chuckle.

“I heard that!” Taylor shouted as my brother grunted. I was sure she’d punched him.

“Finally,” Caleb sighed as he stopped in front of an old-looking building. A man dressed in a red jacket with big brass buttons opened the car door and gestured for me to come out. “Madam, welcome to the Ritz-Carlton.”

I got out, quickly followed by the others as a similarly dressed man opened the trunk of the car to get our luggage.

Caleb gave him the keys of the car along with a fifty-dollar bill.

Who the hell tipped a Grant just to park a car? Forbeses, Astors, and Oppenheimers, that was who.

Caleb took the lead to reception. He had always been the leader of the pack. Even when we’d been enemies, where it was him and the other kings as one, it had been obvious. Not that Archie couldn’t take the crown if he wanted to, I was sure. At the very least, he could have threatened Caleb, but I believed that deep down, Archie hadn’t wanted it.

“Astor, Forbes, St-Vincent, and Oppenheimer,” Caleb announced as he reached the desk.

“Oh, of course,” the woman at the VIP front desk fluttered. I wasn’t sure if it was due to Caleb’s cold command, his striking good looks, or the powers that all of those names put together entailed, but the little jealous voice in me made me stand beside him and reach for his arm.

He looked down at me, his eyes shining with humor. He was not fooled for a second by my reaction, but clearly he was pleased by it.

“Oh, Mr. Astor, sorry, but I have nothing for Oppenheimer. I can–”

“There is no need,” Antoine stated, wrapping his arm around Taylor’s shoulders. “St. Vincent room for two,” he announced, winking down to Taylor.

Archie scowled, his nostrils flaring, but he looked away.

“Ah,” she nodded. “Perfect. Mr. St-Vincent and Mr. Forbes, your rooms are on the eighteenth floor with a view over the park. Mr. Astor, your suite is ready; it’s on the twenty-second floor.” She extended a gold card toward him. “This card will take you to your floor.” She pointed to the elevators. “Your luggage will follow in the next few minutes.”

“Thank you.”

“You went for the suite?” I asked Caleb as we walked toward the elevator. “Don’t you think it’s a bit much for just one night?”

He glanced behind us at the three bickering about something new. “To get away from them and be sure not to be interrupted for what I have planned for you tonight?” He grinned. “Absolutely not.”

I blushed and nudged him playfully. “Wait until you see what I packed.”

His pace faltered as he glanced at me, his eyebrows raised with surprise. It was true that I was not playful with him, but I liked how it felt. Now I almost wanted to stay locked in the room all afternoon.

Archie gagged behind us, killing the mood. “Please keep the sexual banter for your suite, guys.”

Antoine rolled his eyes. “Stop being a sourpuss because of your blue balls, bro. Call the club; they’ll send you a lovely lady. I mean, don’t pretend like you don't know. You two used to be VIP members.”

“Like a prostitute?” I glanced up at Caleb, who was throwing daggers at Antoine, his lips pursed. I could see he was contemplating murder.

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