Cruel Fortune (Cruel 2)

“My dad does,” I told him. “He still has a few from when he was in high school.”

“That’s the best part about vinyl. It ages well,” he said with a signature smile as he threaded each button into its hole. My eyes were struck by the strangely sexual motion.

“Like good bourbon.”

“You’ve got me there. Want a drink?” he asked as he moved toward a fully stocked bar. “I can give you a quick tour before we go.”

“Sure.” He poured us each a glass out of a bottle that I couldn’t help but recognize. “Jefferson’s Ocean?”

“I thought it was your drink.”

I broke out into a laugh. The first night I’d met Lewis, I’d plucked a bottle of bourbon out of the Kensingtons’ bar at the Hamptons home. I’d used half of it to light my rejection letters on fire, and the other half, I’d shared with the crew. I’d had no idea what I was drinking, but it’d tasted damn good.

“It is now. I’ll admit that I didn’t know what it was before I drank it that first night. I stole it out of the bar.” I shrugged with a wicked smile on my face.

“Scandal,” he said as he passed me my drink. “Well, you don’t have to steal this one. I got it for you.”

“Thank you,” I said softly. It was thoughtful in its own way.

“Come on. I’ll show you around.”

I took a sip of the bourbon, remembering the fiery flavor and all the memories that it dredged up. I hadn’t had it since that night. And for a second, all I could see was Penn’s face when I’d walked out of the ocean, naked. The way he’d looked at me, treated me, the stubborn, strong-willed grudge I’d held. The way he’d melted it.

I sighed heavily and hurried after Lewis. No need to think about things that didn’t matter anymore.

We looked into the guest bedroom and then into his office. It was more of a library than an office, and I was here for it. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases in a deep, rich mahogany covered three walls. His desk took up the center space. Every shelf was jam-packed full of books. I could live in this room.

“Gah,” I breathed. “It’s perfect.”

“I thought you might like it.”

“This makes the yacht look like a joke,” I said with a laugh.

“You should see the one my father has. It’s easily triple this size.”

My eyes turned into heart emojis with how much I wanted that. Lewis just chuckled and pulled me out of the room. He had a spare room filled with instruments that he claimed he could only half-play and a green felt poker table. A half-dozen baseball trophies sat on a bookshelf next to marathon medals. An impressive-looking digital SLR camera and lens sat next to a collection of framed pictures of family and friends. I hastily turned away from them before I could pick out the crew in the shots.

“You’re good at everything,” I told him.

He shrugged. “I like to pick up hobbies.”

“Like ice skating,” I said.

“Precisely.”

We moved to the other side of the apartment to what appeared to be the wing for his master bedroom. It was enormous, taking up the size of the other three bedrooms and baths combined. The bathroom alone was a sprawling complex with a jetted tub at the center, a giant walk-in waterfall shower, and a stage-level vanity. His closet was nearly as big as my entire apartment. And the man had more suits and ties than God.

“Well, the tour is a bit different than my place. My apartment could fit inside here,” I said, leaning against the bathtub.

He grinned, his eyes sweeping down my body. And I could see that his thoughts were far from pure. Thinking about all the things we could do in that bathtub.

“I’m second-guessing taking you out,” he said as he strode toward me in the flawless bathroom.

“That so?” I tilted my head up to look at him.

“I kind of like the idea of keeping you all to myself.” His hands slid to my waist. “Maybe we should stay in. I can get takeout, and we can use the bath. I’m sure I have bubbles somewhere.” He firmly pressed his lips to mine. “What do you say?”

“You drive a hard bargain,” I breathed against him. “I think you could convince me.”

He tilted his head against my forehead. “Fuck. I want that.”

“We can stay.”

“I have to meet someone there,” he said on a sigh. “It’s a stupid business thing. If I didn’t, then I’d say, let’s skip it. But we can make a quick appearance, say hey to Jane, and then disappear. Plan?”

I nodded. “Plan.”

There was a sense of irony to the fact that the “small” house party Lewis took me to happened to be for Harmony Cunningham. That was the party Amy and I had snuck into in Paris when we were eighteen. The party where I’d first met Penn. I hadn’t known it at the time. We’d only been there to meet up with Enzo. I thought it proved that their world was even smaller than I’d thought.