Page 3 of House Rules
My gaze goes to the dancing brunette as I mull over the plan taking shape in my mind. I could pay the dancer to accompany me Saturday night. Let her know it’s just a business deal.
“Change of heart?” Dawson asks, his gaze leaving mine to take in the dancer.
“Nope, she’s all yours,” I say, still not sure what the fuck I’m going to do. One thing I do know is I’m not up for a private dance. At least, not from the brunette. Which is bat-shit crazy. Hell must be freezing over for me to turn down a woman.
Dawson rolls a shoulder and slips out of his jacket as he gestures to the manager and pulls out his wallet.
My phone pings and I pull it from my pocket to read the text from my sister.
“Hey, big bro.”
I stare at the phone and debate asking Olivia if she knows why Kennedy is in town, but decide against it. I can’t imagine Olivia would like me showing too much interest in one of her best friends. She knows my reputation and wouldn’t want me hooking up with any of the nice girls she associates with. And Kennedy is a nice girl, the kind of girl a guy brings home to meet his parents—not that my mind is going anywhere near that direction.
“What’s up?” I text back, happy that she and Gio have found each other again and she’s living with him in a Tuscan village.
“How’s London?” she asks.
“Fine.” My fingers swipe over the phone. “Just in a business meeting.”
“Carleton House?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure,” I say, even though she doesn’t have to ask. I might have been a bossy jerk when we were kids, but I’m protective of her and will do anything she asks, and she damn well knows it.
“Tomorrow night, nine o’clock. Can you be at the club?”
“Sure, why?”
“I have a friend who just joined and will be looking for a friendly face, someone nice to talk to.”
“What’s his name?”
“Oh, gotta go. Gio is calling.”
I stare at the phone, but no more texts come in. Talk about strange. Who the hell is this friend she wants me to entertain, and how the hell will I even recognize him? I power down my phone and shove it back into my pocket, my gaze going to the exit as the meeting ends. The men excuse themselves from the table, all seeking a private dance, and I slip away.
I step outside and look up and down the streets, searching for signs of Kennedy. When my hunt comes up empty, I walk back to the hotel, letting the rain pour over me. Maybe the cold droplets will help cool my heated skin. Or maybe I could find another way to extinguish the fire raging inside me—like go to Kennedy’s room and show her my thoughts are anything but brotherly.
If only she weren’t my kid sister’s best friend.
Chapter Three
Kennedy
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Head spinning, I take a deep breath, my heart racing so hard I’m sure I’m going to pass out. I grip the makeup table in front of me, glance around the changing room, and look at all the beautiful dancers as they apply makeup and style their hair. A hand lands on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Kitten,” Electra—the girl who first introduced herself to me when I entered the establishment—says as she gives me a once-over.
“My name’s not—”
She shakes her head to stop me. “Not here, Kitten. We don’t use real names.”
“Oh, okay,” I say, and shrug. “Kitten is good, I guess.”
