Page 13 of When the Last One Falls
Keris~
Though he couldn’t see me, I could see him clearly. I could also see the stunning blonde that walked in with him. Of course, I knew who she was. Though Portal Lands was a big enough city, the upper echelon of the city’s players always ran together at one time or another.
Rochelle Darling had been seen on Brantley’s arm many times before, though maybe many times was stretching it. At any rate, if Brantley Kingston had a relationship with anyone, it was with her. Tall, blonde, beautiful, refined, and built like every man’s dream, Rochelle Darling would make any power player the perfect wife. Why they weren’t a more serious couple was beyond me.
Four weeks later, he still looked as good as he did when he’d humiliated me during our vows. Trying to excuse his boorish behavior, his father had tried to explain to me that Brantley had flown to Central America to check out his latest acquisition-my words, not his-but I hadn’t cared about explanations. The tone for our marriage had been set, and I was just trying to do my best to keep up.
As for moving into Brantley’s house, that had been an impulsive move. Fearful that all of this could still blow up in our faces, I had moved out of my condo, letting Lindsey move in, though I planned on still carrying the mortgage on it. Assuming that Brantley’s home was mortgage-free, I figured that I could live there rent-free while helping my sister balance and grow her finances. Lindsey was very aware of the clusterfuck that our parents had created, so she’d been onboard with working together to make sure that we were both taken care of.
“The turnout is spectacular,” Faron said as soon as our latest art enthusiasts left to mingle elsewhere. I hadn’t told Faron about marrying Brantley, so he had come as my date, something that we often did when we were required to show our faces for the sake of the gallery.
“It is a bit crowded,” I agreed. “But that’s a good thing for the art world.”
“Absolutely.”
Turning away from where Brantley was with his date, I gave Faron my full attention. “Well, we better get used to it for the next few months,” I joked. “Charity season is upon us.”
It was true, too. There was an actual charity season when big corporations were nearing their end-of-the-year profits and looked to charities to help with tax write-offs. I’d been in art long enough to recognize and know this, and Faron knew it as well. The only downside was that we ended up attending more of these things than we liked. For all of Faron’s beauty and theatrical ways, the guy was a sweats and beer kind of guy at home.
“As daunting as these functions are, we need them,” he sighed. “No rest for the weary.”
“Isn’t that the wicked?” I teased.
He shot me a wink. “That, too.” Before I could say anything more, he said, “I see Lowell Higgins. I need to go stomach him for a few minutes.” Lowell Higgins was a known pervert, but his pockets were deep enough that people acted like he wasn’t. While it wasn’t right, everyone here was just trying to survive with what they knew, and what they knew was money.
“You won’t be mad if I take the coward’s way out and head to the bar for a fresh drink?” I asked, smiling way too big.
Faron eyed me. “You owe me.”
“All the damn time,” I agreed, then he kissed my cheek before he went to sacrifice himself on the altar of his love for art.
Iheaded towards the bar.
Once I got there, a lovely brunette bartender asked me what I wanted, and this event was too classy to ask for a whole bottle of tequila, though I was tempted.
“I’ll take a Greygoose on the rocks, please.”
“Coming right up,” she said, smiling, and even though this event was open-bar, I still pulled out some money to tip her. It didn’t matter that she was getting paid well for being here; tips mattered.
However, before I could pull some cash out of my purse, money was being slapped on the bar. I looked up into the face of my legally-recognized husband and my stomach did a quick somersault. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, addressing me in public, but I found it rather rude, considering that he was here with his girlfriend. What kind of asshole did that? Besides, I might not be as rich as I’d been four weeks ago, but I could still tip the damn bartender.
“I’ve got it,” I said as pleasantly as I could, going back to pulling money out of my purse.
“Over my dead body,” he replied evenly, and that made me look up at him again.
“Excuse me?”
“While I can see that you’re not wearing your wedding rings, you’re still my wife,” Brantley said. “So, that means that your financial obligations are mine, and that includes tipping the bartender.”
Before I could become a viral internet clip, the bartender came back with my drink. Looking at Brantley, she asked. “Is there anything that you’d like, sir?”
“Your best bourbon, please,” he answered, then I watched as he switched out the twenty for a hundred. He was going to tip her a hundred dollars for two drinks, and it was obscene. However, considering that he was now sitting on a billion-dollar island, I guess he could afford it.
I still had no idea how my parents hadn’t been able to borrow against the potential earnings of the island, but it didn’t matter anymore. I’d made a deal with the devil, and if he had any decency, he’d leave me the hell alone.
“So?”
“So, what?” I asked, no longer fishing money out of my purse.
