by Elle Berlin
My cheeks lift to smile, curling slowly to let his eyes linger on my mouth as it blooms to full force.
“Ned,” I say, deliberately using his name as I place my palms on his lapel and straighten out the suit that’s worth more than half my staff’s pay. He stiffens, having far more tells than he’d like me to realize. “Your brother has told me very little about you, other than the fact that you bailed him out of the worst mistake of his life and—oh yes, you think I’m a demon like Zariah.”
That gets his attention.
His eyes narrow as he steps back to get away from all the barbs I’m sprinkling. Only, I have his lapels in my hands, and I don’t let him.
“Ned, Ned, Ned,” I coo, watching his face frown and turn hard; it’s a move he must use in the courtroom, because frankly it’s terrifying. But we aren’t in the courtroom, we’re in Flambé —my house, my rules! “You know, you’re right,” I continue, watching him try to intimidate me with his dark scowl. “I am a demon.” I look down the racy dress that glitters with sequins. If Lucifer was a woman, this dress would be her uniform. “But I’m not the lying, manipulative, back-stabbing bitch kind of demon.” I smile sweetly as his eyes darken even more, not sure what to make of me. “I’m the kind that knows everything you think about your brother is a complete load of shit, and if you gave him half a chance to surprise you, you wouldn’t have that ugly frown on your face all the time.”
“You sound exactly like Zariah,” he says smoothly, moving in with his mental chess pieces to surround me.
“That’s unfortunate,” I say, and he nods, glad I agree. “Oh no.” I shake my head. “I mean you. It’s unfortunate that you think anyone who believes in your brother is out to ruin him. That pretty much means you’ll never believe in him. I know I haven’t met the rest of the family, but from what I’ve heard, I guess that means the apple—” I indicate Ned “—doesn’t fall too far from the tree, now does it?”
“You don’t know anything about my family,” Ned says, that frown a permanent fixture on his otherwise good-looking face.
“No, I suppose I don’t,” I give in, realizing he isn’t going to bend from simple wordplay. I pluck up the end of his necktie again and flash him a mischievous smile. “But you did show up to check in on him, so why don’t I show you how well your brother fits in here with all us demons?” I tug on the tie, making Ned grunt. “Did you know your brother can make a drink so good that it will make you cry? You will in a minute.”
I turn on my heels and pull Ned forward from his tie like a dog on a leash, leading him toward the bar. Ahead, past the swarm of women at the bar, I can see Connor is busy pouring, and mixing, and lighting things on fire. He’s as precise and elegant as a well-oiled machine, both powerful and efficient. Those are things I’m sure his brother respects, if he only realized the talent and attention to detail it takes to create a mouth-watering cocktail in thirty seconds.
“Ashton.” I motion to our back-up bartender and ask him to cover Connor for a minute. It isn’t until Ashton walks behind the bar and nods in my direction that Connor sees me leading his brother over—leash and dominatrix style.
All the color drains from Connor’s beautiful face.
“Ned,” Connor says tentatively, approaching us as we reach his station. “You came.” I watch Ned’s scowl inch deeper into his features without saying anything, and how that reaction shoots a fluster of nervousness through Connor. “And uh, I see you met Arie.”
Connor wrings out a dish rag as his brother frowns. “I did,” Ned says darkly, pulling his tie back from my grip and looking at Connor unimpressed. Frankly, I want to deck the man now. First, for making Connor feel small; second, for acting like I’m a two-bit hooker that’s far beneath him. I’m about to breathe fire, but Connor cuts me a look that pleads for me to keep the dragon from storming.
“Well, uh, this is the place,” Connor says, gesturing awkwardly toward the dining room. “Have you had a chance to try the food yet? We can get you a table and—”
“I think I’ve seen all I need to,” Ned cuts him off, effectively making Connor’s face fall even further. Then, Ned’s eyes shoot to me and I realize—it’s me that Ned came to see. The demon. Zariah incarnate. The succubus that’s come to steal his brother’s soul and bring on his downfall. Ned didn’t come to see the restaurant or to support his brother. Oh no, Ned didn’t have any interest in giving Connor a chance to show him what he’s really about.
Nope.
Ned came to confirm I’m everything he thinks I am.
“Wow,” I say, turning to face Ned, my skin coating over with ice as I place myself between Connor and his brother. “You’re a real piece of work, now aren’t you?”
“Arie—” Connor warns, but I’m not listening anymore. Ned’s eyebrows rise as if he expects me to explode in demon fire and make a scene. In fact, I almost think that’s what he wants to happen, so he can prove to Connor that I’m pure napalm.
“I’m sorry that I don’t fit into your perfect golf-club version of how the world is supposed to work,” I snap. “I’m sorry that you think I’m the problem, when it’s clear you don’t give a crap about how talented your brother is. Or the fact that he works harder than all your pension-fund buddies combined. Or that he’s been essential to making sure this place runs as smoothly as it does.”
“What? I’m supposed to be proud?” Ned tosses back. “That my brother works in a circus where women can gawk at him while he lights things on fire?” Ned glowers, showing how he truly feels, and nodding to the women behind me as if they’re part of my menagerie of hungry tigers.
“Spectacle is part of the experience,” I say darkly. “You aren’t really in the position to judge it when you haven’t even had a drink yet or—”
“I had the experience of you soliciting me when I walked in the door,” Ned interrupts, the crease in his forehead deepening. “You think I need to have a drink to know what you’re selling?”
“Ned, this isn’t a—” Connor tries to interject, but Ned silences him with a frown. It’s unsettling to see how much power Connor’s brother truly holds over him.
“You think this is what I wanted for you?” Ned asks, the condescension in his tone indicating both me and the restaurant. “You think this is what I lent you my apartment for? You think this is what I talk about when I spend hours arguing with our father over your virtue? You have so much promise, which is why I bailed you out, why I put my neck on the line—so you could get past this phase of your life and become the man you’re supposed to be. Not throw your life away again over some cheap slut who runs a late-night pleasure—”
Crack! Connor’s fist crashes across his brother’s face!
I yelp, completely shocked.
Did Connor just—? He did!
Ned stumbles back, clutching his bleeding nose—only, he smashes into one of my waitresses! No, not just one of my waitresses, but my sister, Esme, who was kind enough to lend an extra hand today. Ned’s back crashes into the flaming tray of desserts Esme is carrying, causing everything to go flying. It’s like a prat fall in a movie, everything bursting upward in flames and cherries and crème de menthe. Food, fire, Ned, my twin—it all goes crashing to the floor in a symphony of broken dishes that blast through the whole restaurant.
Everyone turns to look.
My sister yelps, tossing fire and food off of herself. Ned violently untangles his limbs as he kicks and curses, his nose bleeding as he barks obscenities.
“Oh my God, Esme!” I reach for her. “Are you—?!”
Ned slaps my hand away, thinking I’m trying to help him. Blustering like a lumbering rhinoceros, he rollicks awkwardly to avoid the heap of flaming food that blazes in the mounting chaos.
Hamblin’s eyes are wide.
Simon jumps to his feet and rushes to us.
My sister pats down the flames that have caught on her dress, the entire room gawking. We’re surrounded by a crowd of staring beasts with their eyes glowing yellow from the gro
wing flames and insanity.
I grab the nearest fire extinguisher and shower the floor with a spray of white foam, coating the flames and my sister completely. I’m going to owe her big-time after this. Connor’s behind me somewhere, when I hear—
“Dad?”
I look up sharply at the sound of Connor’s voice.
Towering opposite us, with a mayhem of food and foam at his feet, stands a grey-haired man that looks distinctly like both Ned and Connor. I can only guess this is their father. He looks just the way I imagine him, an impeccable man of power and money, without a single hair or thread out of place. Except for his face: his face is out of place, wrought with such disgust it makes my stomach unsettle. And that disgust, it’s angled at Connor, at his son. That look of repulsion turns Connor to stone.
“Well,” the man growls, arsenic in his roar. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Ice shoots from his glare, before he looks away from Connor completely and bends down to help up his other son, the good son—Ned. The two of them make a show of brushing off burnt food and ash from their expensive suits as Connor is left speechless.
“Everyone is all right!” Simon says loudly, suddenly at my side with his hands up high to reassure the crowd. Simon continues to address the whole restaurant, going on and on about how no one is hurt and everyone should go back to their meals or some-such company line. At some point he stops talking and hisses at me to take Connor in the back while he deals with this mess. Magically, Simon turns into Mr. Fix-it, apologizing profusely to Ned and his father as he escorts them to the front of the restaurant and out of view. I bend down to help up Esme, who looks like this is the last time she’s doing me a favor, and two of my other waitresses start cleaning up the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologize to my sister. “I didn’t mean to get you caught up in this clusterfuck of family drama. I—” I look back at Connor, who’s cradling his hand—the one he punched his brother with—and looking like the world just turned upside-down. “I, uh—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Esme says, surprisingly calm for just being on fire. “You should make sure—” She nods to Connor and I thank her a thousand times with my eyes, promising to make this up to her soon. I grab Connor by the elbow and pull him back through the kitchen and toward my office.
The tiny room is suffocating, but it’s all I have. I push Connor inside and lock the door, strutting over to the window on the far wall to crack it open and get some airflow. Connor cups his hand and sits down on the Victorian loveseat, hanging his head.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I know this was your big night and I just started a brawl in your dining room with my—”
“Asshole of a brother,” I hiss, dropping down onto the couch next to him. “Yeah, I’m charmed to meet the bastard.”
“Sorry, really. I just … I thought he would finally see—fuck, I don’t know what I thought. I ruined your event. Tonight was so important and I—”
“Shut up, Connor,” I clip out, taking his curled hand in my own. “I don’t give a fuck about the opening.”
“What?” His head snaps up to look at me, dumbfounded. “How can—”
“A little blood and fire isn’t going to ruin my party. This is Flambé. It’s inevitable that someone or something will go up in flame. Sure, I didn’t think it would happen at the opening, but—it is what it is. Everything has been going wonderfully—thanks to you, I might add. A brawl is only going to add to the excitement.”
“You’re taking this far too well,” he eyes me suspiciously. “Did I just get you mixed up with your twin again?”
“Whatever happens, I’ll deal with it,” I assure him. “Simon, Hamblin, whoever. You just punched your brother in the face defending my honor. In front of your father, no less. First, that was super-hot. Second, what I actually care about is if you’re all right!”
He stares at me like I’ve contracted mad cow disease, the shadows on his face long and frowning.
“Connor? Hello?” I snap my fingers in front of his face, but he’s like a ghost, unmoving. “Hey,” I soften. “Did you know your dad was coming?”
He shakes his head slowly. “I haven’t seen him in … two years.” His breath wavers. “Not since we settled the lawsuit and I was forced to leave the firm. And now …” His voice trails off, haunted.
I reach over and cup his face, holding him softly. “Hey, you’re more than what they—what he—thinks of you. Okay?” I try to reassure him. “Trust me, you’re—”
Connor stands, brushing my hands away and letting my words fall flat.
“My father isn’t even supposed to be here,” Connor says, starting to pace. “He lives on the mainland. He hasn’t come to Hawaii since … since Ned allowed me to move into his second apartment. This doesn’t make sense. Unless …” Connor’s fists ball up again, his face wincing in pain as he does.
“Unless?” I ask, not sure what he’s piecing together.
Connor turns to me with a face that’s pale and hollowed. “Unless Ned thinks this is another big mistake like before with—”
I swallow hard. “Zariah?”
Connor nods. “Ned must’ve called Dad because he thinks this is just like before and I’ve—”
“Have you?” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, and my chest tightens. Connor’s gaze flicks up to me, sad and stung, but I lean back against the green velvet of the couch. The open back of my gown presses my naked spine into the softness, but I want something harder under me, something solid and dependable. Too much softness feels weak and indulgent.
Vulnerable.
“Is this a mistake?” I ask, pressing onward. “Working here? Defying your family? This between …” I motion to him and me.
Connor quiets, looking at the floor. I’m not sure what I want him to say. I only know that asking the question feels too raw, and for me this is definitely … more.
I stand up, delicately, my dress swishing against my skin with a touch that’s too yielding. He doesn’t move as I take his face in my hands and kiss him softly. It isn’t passion. It isn’t our normal spark and heat. It’s a simple kiss. Asking … or absolving.
“I don’t want to get between you and your family,” I say quietly. “I mean, take my sister, she means the world to me. If something happened between us, I … I don’t know. I’d probably never forgive myself.”
His hands wrap around my waist.
“You know what I’m trying to say,” I continue. “Take the rest of the night off. Go talk to them, or…”
“They don’t listen.”
“Maybe not,” I brush my lips against his. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t at least try to talk to your father. He did come here, didn’t he?”
Connor’s hands dig into my hips, angry and not wanting to hear me.
“This job will still be waiting here for you tomorrow,” I explain, not letting him off the hook. “Or … if you need to quit, you can.” Those fingers tighten. “No job is worth losing your family.”
“But—”
I kiss him, harder this time, more determined, bending his weight and will to me. He gives in without fighting.
“You don’t have to keep the job,” I repeat. “But you can still come to my apartment tonight … even if you quit. You can still come back every night … if that’s the part you want.” I can’t even look at him after I say that. It feels too heavy, too unguarded. I may as well have handed him my heart and told him to press it against the grill, searing the skin till it’s hard and burned. “I’ll text you my address,” I press on. “And you can decide. Later, not now. Whatever you want to do.”
I unwind myself from him and find my cell phone on the desk, pull up his number, and start typing. I hit send, before I can second guess this and back out like a chicken, my heart suddenly hammering with the possibility that he won’t choose either—me or the job.
I smile weakly and turn back to him. “Go talk to your brother. Okay? Your dad. Decide what you
need. All this …” I make a weak gesture to the restaurant behind my closed office door. “It’s just, it’s not your family. It’s not your dream. It’s inconsequential, compared to—”
I lose my words, my throat tightening.
He stares at me like he doesn’t understand what’s happening. Who is this kind, understanding, self-sacrificing woman in front of him? I throw him a smile to mask the way my heart is hammering.
“Hey, don’t worry about me.” I jut my chin out and toss my hair to the side. “The restaurant will be fine. More than fine!” I walk up to his side and unlock the door to my tiny office. I force a laugh. “You can leave knowing that no one will ever bang me in this office the way that you did. There’s only one man who would ever dare give me a wall banging.” I smile mischievously, giving him my naughty bedroom eyes to lighten the mood. “No one else has the balls to defy the dragon.”
Connor’s expression is sad, and maybe proud, but nothing in it tells me whether or not he’ll come back into work tomorrow or take me up on the apartment offer.
“Maybe I’ll see you later,” I say, kissing him softly on the cheek. “Or maybe I won’t. Either way, it was unforgettable.”
I slip out of my office and head back toward the patrons in the dining room; my head is throbbing like I’ve drank too much bubbly, but everything else is heavy and aching. I tell myself to think about the desserts and the main courses that have yet to go out. Focus on the food and on making everything beautiful. After all, there’s one thing in this world that I love more than anything, and it’s cooking—cooking should take my mind off the man I may have just said goodbye to. Cooking should fill that void nice and fine. But of course, I know better, and right now, even cooking seems trite.
35
Connor
I hop in an Uber and ride to my brother’s second condo, the one he lives in while I’ve been residing in his place on the beach. Arie’s right, I need to talk to my family. I need to stop stewing over the past and get everything out in the open. Only, the last thing I expect my family to do is actually listen. After all, they didn’t even give Flambé a chance. Oh no, cheap-shot number one was calling Arie a slu—