Page 57 of Sweet Wicked Vows
“Stop talking.” I gritted out. “I’m thinking.”
The youngest Dade smirked. “Don’t pull a muscle.”
Being away from the comforts of my own home and my office were getting the better of me. The house in New York was fine, quiet for the most part. Between thepetitgray gremlin who followed me from room to room and demanded that I stroke her with constant headbutts, and Poppy singing at the top of her lungs as she busied herself cooking and cleaning, I longed to be back in Ontario.
Hell, I’d settle for Monaco.
So, when Olivier messaged me asking to come and meet him at a jazz bar after dinner—my idea of fucking torture—I jumped at the chance to get out of the house.
The bar used to be an old deli place, bought and converted by some new upcomer in the city. Deep, red velvet lined the walls, instantly bringing my thoughts to Evelyn and her sun-scorched hair. Thick dark carpets, an old-style wooden bar, and staff who were illuminated by candlelight. There were booths lined up against the wall, curving around overly comfortable cushioned seats giving each table their own privacy.
Mercifully, a live band wasn’t playing. Soft jazz music floated through the bar from overhead speakers, making it somewhatbearable.
“The pieces aren’t going to move themselves, you know.” Olivier sipped a mouthful of’94 Buffalo Tracebourbon. “It’s okay to admit you’ve gotten rusty in your old age.”
The chessboard sat between us.
I was losing—pretty fucking badly.
“Maybe if they bothered to use actual lighting in here rather than candles, I might be able to see the board,” I grumbled between another hefty mouthful of bourbon. I was completely off my game, my mind preoccupied with trying to figure out the next move against Reynolds.
“Merde, you’re old.” Olivier’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Will I start measuring you up for a walking cane and some bi-focal glasses?”
“You’re hilarious,” I said, deadpan, finally making a move. “When did you start doing stand-up?”
Olivier was quick to counter the movement, settling back in the seat and nursing his glass with a hint of smugness. “It’s okay to admit you missed me. I bet life was frightfully dull being stuck with Freddie all the time.”
Dull was not quite the word I’d use to describe my time with our eldest brother.
Frederic, compared to the rest of us, was intense, unforgiving, and portrayed the exterior of blissful indifference. He truthfully was a machine whose cogs never stopped spinning.
When he decided to bring me in as his business partner, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do it alone, we were both so motivated to undo the wrongs of the past.
Our father’s mistakes were to be the steppingstones for our success.
The brutally long years spent climbing our way to the top, fighting tooth and nail to be the second largest diamond supplier, meant the relationship between Frederic and I changedalong the way.
We were no longer kin, only business partners.
It was hard to remember a time when we laughed together or talked about anything other than business and revenge. It was why I enjoyed these moments with Olivier, he soothed that darker side of me.
“You and Evelyn, eh?” Olivier drummed his fingers on the table.
I didn’t bother answering. The simple mention of her name plummeted my thoughts straight into the green and red of her abyss. I tried to refocus, staring at the dimly lit chessboard, willing myself not to allow her to consume my thoughts—again.
My body still clung to the feel of her latched around me on the back of my bike, reliving the sounds of her moans and gasps of excitement.
“What did you do to secure that one?”
Another chess piece moved. “What do you mean?”
“She’s beautiful, confident, and an all-round nice person.” He pressed a button on the edge of the table, sending another order to the bar. “You,mon frère,were always pretty open about your lack of interest in marriage or relationships. It seems sudden for your opinions to change. Plus, you are frightfully grumpy and pretty much her exact opposite.”
Two more glasses appeared at the table.
“I know her brother.” Olivier studied the chessboard. “We study the same degree. He’s a year below me atNYU, but I’ve seen him around. He requested one on one study sessions come the start of the semester. Flynn is pretty well known, a bit of a partier, but a nice guy.”
A liability, more like.