London Dynasty (The Dynasties Book 1)

by Geneva Lee

  It had taken me nearly an hour to dress, so by the time, Giles went over a few more, important points and led me back downstairs to the library, I was starving and ashamed. I darted inside, the Chanel clutch under my arm. “I’m so sorry that I made you wait.”

  Iris looked up from the tablet she was holding—apparently, the hundreds of books surrounding her on the walnut shelves weren’t to her taste—and blinked. “I expected you to take longer.”

  I drove my lips into a smile and shrugged, realizing that Kerrigan wasn’t likely to apologize for taking too long getting ready. “I suppose I’m hungry.”

  “Well, our reservation isn’t for two more hours, but we could hit the shops near Hillgrove’s,” she said brightly. “But if you’re terribly hungry, I can call and have them move it up.”

  “I can wait,” I said. After visiting Kerrigan’s closet, I sensed she was unlikely to turn down a shopping trip.

  “Excellent! This is going to be wonderful.”

  Within an hour, I’d realized two things: Iris had meant everything she said about wanting to be friends and that I had never really been shopping in my life. Not by Belmond standards. When we’d reached Sloane Street in Belgravia, I’d recognized the designer names gracing the shop doors. Inside the first boutique, I’d made the mistake of peeking at a price tag and nearly fainted, uncertain if it was the item’s cost or the phone number to a helpline for shopping addicts.

  Iris seemed more suited to this life than I was. If she saw a piece she liked, she just picked it up and handed it to the shop girl charged with attending to the every need of the two of us.

  “Aren’t you going to get anything?” she asked me as we stood admiring a collection of silk scarves.

  “I don’t really wear scarves,” I said without thinking and instantly wished I hadn’t. Maybe Kerrigan loved scarves. There were several parts of her closet that I hadn’t seen inside yet.

  “They’re such lovely accessories,” Iris said, fingering the edge of one. She didn’t seem surprised by my proclamation. “You can never have too many.”

  “Which one should I get?” I asked her. The truth was that I had no idea where to start and without some help, I was going to just have to start pointing at random things and hope I chose wisely.

  “This is a lovely shade of blue,” she said, holding it up. “Your father mentioned it’s your favorite color.”

  I tucked that bit of information into my brain for safekeeping. “It is,” I agreed. “I’ll take this one.”

  “I’ll wrap it up for you, Miss Belmond,” the shop girl said, moving to place the scarf in an orange box.

  “You’ll have to show me how to wear it,” I told Iris.

  She beamed back at me. “I’d love to. I think—”

  Before she could finish the thought, a hand appeared on her shoulder as an older woman with silver-blonde hair cut into a short, chic bob stepped beside us. “Iris! What a pleasant surprise.” She turned and gasped when she saw me. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought I’d been found out. Instead, she reached to squeeze my arm. “And Kerrigan! Your father mentioned you were back in town, but I hadn’t expected to see you until tomorrow night. Spencer is looking forward to it.”

  “S-so am I,” I stammered as I started to piece together what was happening.

  “I wish we could stay, but I’m heading to lunch with my daughter at Hillgrove’s.”

  “Oh, we’re on our way there,” Iris said without missing a beat.

  “You must join us,” Spencer’s mother said, and my heart sank as she waved to a younger girl, who was examining a pair of sunglasses. “Evie would be delighted for the company.”

  For a moment, I considered faking a stomach cramp. I wasn’t ready. Giles had barely scratched the surface of what I needed to know. I wasn’t prepared to impress his mother or speak to his sister. Going with them now could only end in disaster, but before I could come up with an excuse, Iris grinned widely.

  “We’d love to join you.”

  Chapter Nine

  As soon as we reached Hillgrove’s, which proved to be nearly as posh as the nearby shops, I excused myself to the loo. Iris was busy seeing to a larger table than she’d reserved, and the Byrds would be joining us after they finished with their purchases down the street. I was hoping that might buy me some time to send a plea for help. Locking myself inside a stall, I sent a panicked message to Giles on the mobile he’d given me. I sank onto the toilet and waited. After five minutes I gave up. Placing my mobile back in my handbag, I reminded myself that this meeting was inevitable. So what if I was supposed to have one more day? Was twenty-four hours going to do that much to ready me?

  Gathering my lone shopping bag and purse, I reached to unlock the door as a sudden bang shook the thin wall shared by the adjoining stall. I bit back a yelp as a breathy giggle floated through the air.

  “Here? Someone might hear us,” the voice behind the giggle said.

  “I can’t wait,” a gruff voice, oozing with sex, replied. “I need to fuck you now.”

  I froze, too embarrassed to interrupt whatever was going on in the adjoining stall. The wall between us ran from ceiling to floor, but the material was flimsy enough that I could hear every movement. I wouldn’t be discovered unless I made noise and opening my door would definitely make noise. Clutching my purse against my chest, I sent up a prayer that someone else would walk in and scare off the couple.

  “They’re waiting for you,” she simpered but there was no fire behind her argument. She’d agreed to whatever he wanted from the moment they’d ducked into the ladies’ room.

  “And I’m so bored I’m about to fall asleep. I need to do something that gets my blood pumping.” The wall shook with a sudden jolt, and I heard the woman moan.

  “We need to hurry,” she whispered at the sounds of rustling fabric and ripping foil. Something slammed into the wall, followed by a throaty groan of pleasure that sent a gush of molten desire between my legs. I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear the slap of bare flesh colliding and the primal sounds of pleasure.

  A string of filthy encouragement started as the wall vibrated with their thrusts. “That’s right. Ride my cock. God, I love the way your tits bounce when I’m fucking you,” he grunted.

  “Oh my god,” she cried out, and suddenly I found my own hand reaching to unfasten the waistband of my trousers. I slipped a finger down the lacy knickers I was wearing, more delicate and sexy than any I’d ever owned before. Propping myself against the far wall, I closed my eyes and imagined I was the one with my legs wrapped around the stranger, taking his cock. I circled the swollen bud frantically, building alongside them, too desperate to soothe the ache ravaging me to feel ashamed for what I was doing.

  A choking sound, as though a hand was being used to muffle a scream of pleasure, pushed me over the edge, and I threw my own arm over my face, biting down on my skin to keep from being heard as I came on my hand. I rode out the lingering spasms in silence, my hips bucking wantonly to the sound of their final climaxes.

  “Whoa, steady there,” I heard a low warning as the sound of feet hitting the floor echoed in the otherwise empty restroom.

  “Just a little shaky. How do I look?” the breathy woman asked.

  “Like you just shagged a patron in the loo.” Arrogance replaced the gruff sexiness.

  I found myself wanting to see the man on the other side of the stall, wishing it was me in there with him.

  “Maybe you won’t be so bored at your lunch meeting now,” she said with a giggle.

  “Well, I won’t be complaining about the wait staff’s attention to detail.”

  Another giggle.

  It was a waitress in here, screwing a businessman. A surge of envy roared through me, unexpected and overwhelming. Why couldn’t I be that open and willing? Why was I the one afraid to get undressed in front of a stranger? Why was I the one pleasuring myself in muted silence to the sounds of other people’s orgasms?

  “Let me sneak
out first, and I will make sure you get that fresh bourbon you ordered,” the woman said. “Thanks for the shag, Mr. Byrd.”

  My hand was still in my pants when she said his name and I barely bit back a cry of surprise. It had to be a coincidence. I hadn’t just sat here and got off on listening to the man I was expected to court screwing someone else. I withdrew my hand shakily as I made to button my pants. I’d wait for them to leave, slip quietly into the restaurant, and casually ask Mrs. Byrd if her son was here. But would that give me away? Surely, she would say something. There had to be plenty of people with that surname in London. I’d almost convinced myself as I heard the door open and close. I waited for a moment and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Hello?” the man’s voice called, and I realized my error. The waitress was going out first, probably to avoid being spotted.

  I stayed perfectly still, hoping he let it go, and waited, but there were no sounds of footsteps or opening doors. It worked.

  “Once more unto the breach,” he muttered to what he must now believe an empty room. I held my breath, distracting myself by trying to place the quote. Just a few more seconds and he’d disappear into the busy restaurant and back to his business.

  Footsteps echoed in the air, moving toward the exit, just as a chime broke the silence, alerting me to an incoming text. I scrambled to get my mobile out of my bag and silence it but the damage was done.

  “I thought I heard someone.” There was a predatory edge to his voice now that made me want to be caught, followed by a low chuckle that made me shiver. “You could have joined us.”

  I bit my lip and kept my eyes clenched shut, clutching my mobile like a life raft.

  “I hope you enjoyed it, dirty girl,” he said before finally leaving me alone with my hammering heart and wet panties.

  Chapter Ten

  I was ravenous by the time I reached the table where Iris sat chatting with Mrs. Byrd and her daughter. The two had finished their shopping while I was trapped in the loo. They looked up at me as I joined them, and I did my best to act normally.

  “There she is!” Iris said. “I ordered you your favorite. At least, according to your father. I hope you don’t mind. I know I made you wait to eat.”

  “Thank you,” I said softly, taking the empty seat between Iris and Spencer’s sister. I had no idea what Kerrigan’s favorite was, and I prayed it wouldn’t turn out to be something disgusting like snails or whatever places like this served to people with too much money. Picking up the linen napkin at my place setting, I laid it on my lap.

  “I’m so chuffed to meet you. I’m actually shaking, see?” She held up her hand to demonstrate.

  “Oh! Me too.” I hoped that any lingering color on my cheeks would be excused as excitement or nerves.

  “I’ve always wanted a sister and—”

  “Evelyn,” her mother cut her off sharply. “Kerrigan doesn’t want to hear about that. There’s still a lot to be decided. Let’s give her a few hours to settle into being home again.”

  The youngest Byrd looked very little like her mother. Whereas the elder exhibited the poise of a woman accustomed to walking amongst the highest rings of society, Evelyn seemed about to bubble over at any moment like a kettle left on the heat too long. They shared the same fair skin, but age had hewn the older woman into sharp angles that were polished with expensive clothes and jewelry. Evelyn was curvy and round, her cheeks as rosy and warm as her artless smile. She wore a simple floral dress that had been chosen to flatter her ample figure but had none of the tailored couture of her mother’s structured, navy blue sheath.

  “I don’t mind, Mrs. Byrd,” I said, taking a sip of water from a crystal goblet.

  “Please call me Caroline,” she corrected me. “We are practically family.”

  “I don’t mind, Caroline,” I backpedaled, starting to feel as though I was suffering from whiplash. Things needed to be decided, but we were practically family? Next to me, Iris fidgeted in her chair a little as if she was thinking the same thing.

  “You must tell us what you’re wearing to the reception tomorrow,” Caroline said, tipping her chin as her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She was appraising me. It was the first day of class, and she was here presenting me with a pop quiz.

  “I haven’t really thought about it,” I admitted.

  Iris went rigid beside me, telling me that I had answered incorrectly.

  “But it’s tomorrow,” Caroline pressed.

  “Mum, let her alone.” Evie shook her head, rolling her eyes with the passion only a teenage girl could muster. “Not everyone cares about clothes.”

  “Someone must, Evie darling.” She turned to Iris conspiratorially. “If I didn’t put clothes in her closet, this one would go about naked—and that would be disastrous.”

  I saw the glide of her daughter’s throat as she swallowed the subtle insult her mother had lobbed in her direction.

  “I like clothes, but I prefer shoes,” I said, trying to shift the topic of conversation before Caroline could toss another dart at Evelyn. “I already chose those. I always start my outfits by choosing my shoes.”

  “Oh, I like that,” Evie said.

  “You and I should go shoe shopping,” I said. “What are you wearing tomorrow?”

  “Um,” she hedged, glancing toward her mother, “I was thinking about this rose-colored gown that—”

  “It doesn’t suit you, darling,” Caroline stopped her. “I had Lana steam that new black dress I picked up for you at Harrods.”

  Evie nodded, her smile cracking at the edges.

  “Perhaps, I’ll wear black as well,” I said, trying to lift her spirits without insulting Caroline. I was having a hard time not rounding the table and dumping my water over the woman’s head. She deserved it, but Kerrigan Belmond would never do such a thing. “We could be twins.”

  “Oh, I’ve always wanted—”

  “Black will wash you out,” Caroline said to me. “I was thinking something ivory or perhaps white.”

  Something bridal, I realized, because those colors wouldn’t wash me out.

  “Then we’ll contrast each other,” I whispered to Evie, and she grinned.

  “Of course, it would be nice if you’d gotten more sun while you were away,” Caroline continued, her eyes skirting across my arms. “You’re fortunate that you have that lovely olive undertone in your skin, but I would imagine it would be even lovelier if you sunbathed. I know I can never get enough sun when I’m in Cannes. That is where you went on your little pre-marital gap period?”

  I could almost swear I saw a glimpse of claws under her careful questioning. Kerrigan’s absence had been noted by the matriarch. What questions had that raised?

  “I was there for a bit,” I lied. I’d never been to France in my life. “But then I found myself just wandering where my heart took me.”

  “How bohemian.” To her credit, she managed to make this sound only mildly insulting. I had no doubt she’d muzzled her disdain.

  “I think it’s so smart for a woman to take time to get to know herself before she gets married,” Iris interjected. “Life changes so much after saying ‘I do.’ It’s important to know who you are before you make such an important commitment.”

  “I suppose that’s how it’s done now. When I married my late husband, I wasn’t even out of university, but that was ages ago. You should listen to your stepmother, she’s been down the aisle more recently than I.” She smiled at Iris, but no hint of the sweetness of her lips reached her eyes. They remained narrowed and wary.

  I was starting to understand the game we were playing. Caroline Byrd had positioned herself as the head of the table, a spot she intended to keep by bullying and making casually cruel remarks.

  “I will. Thank you.” I turned to Iris. “I really do want to hear all the details of what I missed while I was away. I’m still adjusting to father being married again.”

  Caroline snorted into her water goblet. “That man is a serial groom.”


  “He believes in love,” Iris said with quiet courage. “As do I. We’re lucky to have found each other.”

  I found myself wanting to know the man Iris had fallen in love with. Kerrigan’s father hadn’t struck me as a particularly sympathetic or loving soul, but Iris was one of the sweetest people I’d ever met. If she saw that side to him, might it be there?

  Our lunches arrived, saving us from more of Caroline’s passive-aggressive tactics. I breathed a sigh of relief when a simple omelet was put in front of me.

  “Would you like some bread?” the waiter asked, and I nodded. He placed a fresh roll on the rim of the china plate and turned to offer one to Evie.

  “No, thank you.” She kept her eyes trained on the filet of chicken and roast vegetables that had been placed before her.

  I looked over to Caroline who was watching the interaction like a hawk, prepared to swoop down and attack should her daughter make the wrong choice. She relaxed in her seat a little, opening her mouth to refuse the bread before the waiter had even asked.

  “Nonsense,” I spoke up, stopping him. “Without bread, how are you going to help me eat this butter?”

  “She makes a good point,” Iris said, latching on to what I was doing. “I’ll have two please.”

  Across the table, Caroline seethed quietly, shaking her head when the waiter finally asked her. The rest of the meal was fraught with a number of pointed questions and barbed remarks. I managed to dodge the traps she laid for me and began to perfect the art of subtly sticking up for Evie. It helped that Iris was there to back me up.

  “Thank you for inviting us to join you,” Iris said graciously as the waiter arrived. She beckoned for the bill.