Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men 9)

He didn’t even pretend to believe me. “Just don’t let Noel catch you. You know what a tight ass he’s been lately.”

I nodded and took another drink. Yeah, did I know. Our oldest brother had plenty of reasons to be losing his shit, but damn, I was beyond ready for his asshole to loosen again so that stick could fall out of it.

“I live with him,” I said dryly. “You don’t have to remind me.”

Brandt shifted closer, his gaze clouding with worry. “Aspen’s still not getting any better, is she?”

Bothering him with doom and gloom on his wedding day wasn’t what I wanted, but there was really no way to sugarcoat it. So I shook my head miserably, finished my glass, and then stole his, switching him out with my empty.

He didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he only looked more concerned as he watched me gulp from his champagne. “Has he taken her back to the doctor?”

Opening my mouth, I planned to tell him I didn’t want to talk about it. Tonight was for celebrating and merrymaking. We could go back to worrying about our sister-in-law in the morning. For one evening, I just wanted to forget about that shit. Aspen’s problems weren’t going anywhere; they’d still be there tomorrow.

But before I could try to distract him, Asher—Remy’s husband—joined us. “Man.” He bumped his elbow into Brandt’s. “Juli can’t stop staring at you tonight.”

“Juli?” That name perked me to immediate attention. “Julianna’s here?”

I followed Asher’s gaze to a dimly lit table in the back corner that bordered the dance floor. It was empty save for one individual, one of the loveliest individuals to grace the planet.

I have no clue how she did it, but Julianna Radcliffe always managed to look equal parts disdainfully untouchable and wet-dream sexy.

Tonight, her dress was pure sin. She wore a long, strapless light gray number that had a front slit, exposing a perfectly toned leg most the way up her thigh and a bustier top that hugged proud, ample breasts. The paleness of her dress made the tone of her skin appear even darker than usual, which made my stomach knot with tension because I yearned to investigate all that dark, dark skin, see how it felt under my hands, how it tasted against my tongue, how it trembled when I stroked it.

Yet I knew without a shadow of a doubt there was no way that would ever happen because that lady right there was a ball-breaker. You could tell it by the straight-backed, poised way she held herself as if she might as well be behind a boardroom table, doling out punishments to her inferior subordinates, and by the way she had no tolerance for stupidity or players. I swear, her stare alone could shrivel a guy’s family jewels to impotent nothingness. I usually had the itching urge to cover my junk whenever I talked to her.

And yet she was an irresistible challenge to idiots like me. Not just because she was model-worthy stunning, which she was. Nothing on her was ever out of place. But because her flawlessness always struck me with the urge to mess her up…in the best ways possible. I felt the need to be the exception to the rule, the one who got past her defenses and scaled that impossible mountain of poise and perfection.

“Fuck,” Brandt groaned.

I glanced at him, forcing my brain back to the problem at hand, that being Julianna and her inability to take her eyes off my newly married brother.

“Hasn’t it been months since you and she were over?” I asked, confused.

He sent me a sharp glance. “Over? We never started. There’s nothing to be over. Juli and I didn’t even finish the one date we went on.”

Asher sniffed. “Well, it looks as if she’s still willing to finish it.”

“Dammit.” Brandt glanced toward his wife. “I hope Sarah doesn’t see her watching me. I don’t want anything upsetting her on our wedding day.”

Asher shook his head. “So, why’d you even invite Juli?”

“I work with her.” Brandt moodily tugged at the collar of his tux.

It seemed odd to me that someone so classically beautiful worked in a nightclub as a bartender. To me, Julianna clearly belonged on a runway, displaying the latest fashion, or—

“It would’ve been strange to invite everyone else from the club and leave her out. Besides, we’re still friends. She’s probably my favorite coworker.”

“Hey,” Asher muttered, offended since he occasionally bartended at the Forbidden Nightclub with Brandt too.

Brandt rolled his eyes. “You don’t count.”

But that only seemed to confuse Asher more. “Why don’t I count?”

Ignoring him, Brandt brought his hand up to his mouth so he could chew on his thumbnail. “We need to distract her somehow. Someone needs to...” Trailing off, he turned slowly toward me, and the intent in his gaze was pretty damn clear.

I paused mid-sip. “Wait, what? You can’t possibly want me to distract her?”

“You’re the one who’s always flirting with her,” he hissed.