Page 4 of Untamed Billionaire
“Touché,” Marco whispered, then laid his soup spoon down on his bowl.
Chloe almost laughed at the compliment, but pressed her lips together and laid her spoon down as well, indicating that she was finished.
The rest of the meal was less of a mine field. It seemed that everyone acknowledged that Marco was an acceptable dinner guest now that they’d heard of his friends, and Chloe was no longer going to take the zingers. Swords were sheathed and everyone relaxed and proceeded to get drunk on the expensive wine.
Everyone but Marco, she realized. Chloe never drank at these dinner functions. She merely tipped the wine glass towards her lips, then licked her lips as if she’d tasted something scrumptious. But it was a rare night when she consumed more than half a teaspoon of wine. She never wanted her guard to be down when around these people.
When the fruit and cheese course had been consumed, Jocelyn lifted her glass and suggested, “Shall we have dessert and coffee in a more relaxed area?” She asked the question as if it didn’t happen after every single meal at every dinner party. Hostesses all over Charleston would shepherd their guests into the living room, open up the doors to the patio and encourage the guests to mingle once again now that everyone was less inhibited. The men would eat the offered dessert and gulp down more bourbon or, for their less southern guests, scotch. The ladies would sip tea or coffee in delicate, bone china cups and politely wave away the decadent desserts. Some would laugh and explain that they never ate sugar. Others would pat their flat stomachs and joke about how full they were, even as their stomachs growled. Even after the meal, most of the ladies here would still be starving, having only nibbled at the elaborately prepared food, as was required by high society.
Despite the repetitive nature of the dessert protocol, everyone stood and filed out of the dining room, groups of two and three leaning together in order to gossip about the dinner conversation.
Chloe looked back at the dining room, something odd catching her eye. Normally, she would have kept her eyes forward, terrified of running into someone in front of her or tripping over an obstacle. But something, she wasn’t sure what, made her look back at the dining table. The servants were waiting near the door to the kitchen, every one of them eager to clear the table and get the kitchen cleaned up so they could finish and go home for the night. But one of the guests, Mr. Bingly, was lingering and…good grief! The man was chugging a leftover glass of wine!
She almost started to laugh at the man’s ruddy cheeks, most likely caused by an overindulgence in fatty foods and excess alcohol.
Chloe was about to turn away again but…no! No way! She clapped a hand over her mouth as she watched the honorable Mr. Bartholomew Bingly reach across the table and take her glass of wine! Since she’d barely touched it, so the glass was still full.
Surely, that would be enough, she thought. However, Mr. Bingly was not done. He then reached across the table and…yep! He downed Marco’s glass of wine as well!
“What’s so funny?” Marco asked, placing a warm hand over her fingers where they rested on his elbow. He had chivalrously offered his arm to lead her out of the dining room. It was the first time anyone had ever bothered to do so. Ever since she’d been forced to endure her mother’s tediously boring dinner parties, she’d walked out of the dining room alone. Walking out on Marco’s arm had been an exceptionally nice change of pace. Not just because she could feel the muscles flexing underneath the expensive material of his dinner jacket, but also because…well, the man was hot! Super hot! And he’d offered to walk her out!
His gesture made her feel like a princess, and Chloe hadn’t missed several of the envious looks from a few of the other ladies in the room.
“Nothing,” she replied to Marco as she turned away from Mr. Bingly’s wine-fest. She just hoped that he had a driver for the evening.
“Chloe!” her mother called out.
Groaning, Chloe turned and pasted a polite smile on her features as she turned, bracing herself for whatever horrible task her mother wanted her to perform.
“Yes, Mother?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows as if she cared about the next chore.
“Chloe, would you mind…”
“What the hell!” Mr. Bingly cried out.
Everyone turned, staring at the florid faced man as he grabbed hold of the doorframe. His normally red cheeks were…they were a much brighter red now. Chloe was just about to walk over to offer her assistance when the man bent and…threw up all over the dining room floor!
There was a stunned silence then. Anyone who hadn’t just witnessed the horrific barfing was now turning, trying to see what everyone was looking at. But Mr. Bingly had stumbled back several steps and was throwing up again. And again! He leaned over, gripping two of the dining room chairs as he heaved again.
Always the perfectly correct hostess, Jocelyn quickly moved to the doors of the dining room, pulling them closed, then turning to the guests. “I apologize for the disruption,” she announced to everyone and there was a slight murmur of laughter at the spectacle of a vomiting dinner guest being referred to as a “disruption”.
“Please, let’s all just move out to the patio for coffee and tea.”
The guests hurriedly moved away from the dining room, no one wanting to endure the smell of the incident for fear that it might spoil their dessert.
“That’s going to be a mess to clean up!” Chloe whispered.
“Indeed,” Marco replied, then pulled her away as if protecting her. She laughed slightly, and once again, Chloe was touched by his protectiveness.
“I wonder what caused him to lose his dinner in such a violent manner,” Marco speculated.
Chloe tightened her hand on his arm for a brief moment before relaxing once again. “I saw him lingering behind the other guests and chugging some of the leftover wine.”
They stopped suddenly right in the middle of the hallway leading to the living room. When Chloe looked up, she was startled by the intensity on his roughly handsome features. “Whose wine?” Marco demanded, his eyes becoming hard.
Chloe was startled by the question, but she shrugged lightly. “Well, his own, then he reached for mine, and then yours. He must have realized that we barely touched our wine so…” she left the last part unspoken.
Marco didn’t say anything for a moment but she could see the wheels of his mind processing that information.
