The Lady of Royale Street

by Thea de Salle

  “Excellent.” Alex took it, eyed the list, and nodded. “Thank you again, Tara. We wouldn’t have pulled it off without you.”

  “Aww, yer sweet. Hope ta talk at yer folk on Monday!”

  “It’ll happen,” Alex promised. “You have my word.”

  “Did you do that for your brother or to your brother?” Theresa asked when they were safely in the car.

  “A little bit of both, to be honest.” Alex pulled on his seat belt. “Plus she helped the family. If she can’t handle Sol, Cylan will put her on the desk or in the office. Do a solid for a DuMont, we do a solid back, and at this point, Cylan’s an honorary DuMont.”

  “That’s sweet,” Theresa said. “It’s a little bit Mafia, but it’s sweet. I’m glad you thought to ask her about a job. It hadn’t even occurred to me.”

  Alex shrugged, trying to play it off as casual, but the red on his cheeks said he was flattered. Embarrassed, but flattered. “Being a bull in a china shop has some benefits. Not many, but some.”

  “Yes, well. I must like bulls. In china shops, even.”

  His flush darkened.

  Theresa unfolded Tara’s paper and eyeballed the names. She snagged her cell from her purse and pointed at the top of the list. “I’ll get started, see what we can do. No point in running around the city if we can just make a few calls.”

  “Sounds good. I’m thinking we can go pick up my tux, then swing around to Lucia’s for the dress? Two birds, one stone?”

  “More like a flock of birds, but yes, that sounds good.”

  Plan set, Alex got driving, Theresa got calling. The first shop on the list was Crescent Blooms, and a woman with a lovely drawl answered the phone.

  “Hello, I’m looking for Louisa.”

  “Speakin’! Who’s this?”

  “My name’s Theresa Ivarson. I’m calling on behalf of my best friend, Rain Barrington. Darlene at Weddin’ Kisses booked a wedding for this Sunday—”

  “It is y’all! Josephine! It’s for the Barrington weddin’! We were right!” There was a celebratory whooping in the background of the shop, excited chatter, and fumbling with the phone before Louisa returned to the line. “Girl, we got a six-thousand-dollar order of flowers here that we were worryin’ about. Darlene didn’t ever give us names, said it was top secret, but she paid us in full. We saw on the news about the weddin,’ and we guessed who it was, but we weren’t sure, and no one at Darlene’s number was pickin’ up.”

  Theresa smiled. “Mystery solved!”

  “Danged right. It all worked out okay!”

  From there it was Louisa confirming the order and Theresa advising of the venue change while Alex parked outside of the tailoring shop. The bridal party’s flowers would be dropped off Sunday morning at The Seaside. The centerpieces would be sent to the dock and loaded onto the Capulet along with white rose favors for the guests. Louisa was incredibly helpful, and when she asked if they could get photographs from the wedding to hang in the shop to show they’d been showcased at the Barrington/DuMont match, Theresa offered her own pictures.

  “I’m one of the photographers,” Theresa explained. “Maid of honor and a photographer. I’m a photojournalist by trade. I’ll double check with Rain, but I’m sure it’ll be fine as long as everything goes smoothly.”

  “Oh, it’ll go smooth. Someone’s gonna be fed to a gator if it doesn’t,” Louisa said.

  They both laughed, verified contact phone numbers, and hung up feeling better than they had before the conversation. Theresa was just sliding her phone back into her purse when Alex walked out of the store with a black garment bag. There wasn’t really a way to hang it, so he laid it out best he could in the back, smoothing the wrinkles so he wouldn’t have to contend with them later on.

  Theresa watched him with no small amount of dread.

  “How are we going to get a wedding dress in here without destroying it?” she demanded.

  Alex eyeballed her over the back of his seat and frowned. “Porsches suck.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  THERESA WAS NEUROTIC about the dress. Alex tried not to roll his eyes as she extricated all sixty miles of silk from the back of the car. While it was undoubtedly delicate work, he was pretty sure it wasn’t going to fall to pieces because the wind blew. A little bit of care he understood. Whatever was going on with Theresa was a different, somewhat ridiculous story. She treated it like the Holy Grail.

  Saying so, however, will get me on the proverbial shitlist, and things have been going great, so I’ll keep that thought to myself.

  She indicated he should take the bottom of the garment bag, which was tied off to protect the train, and the two of them headed inside, Alex holding the hanger with his tuxedo with one hand, the wedding dress with the other. They walked into the foyer, and upon seeing them, Dora motioned them over to the reception desk, barking at one of the bellhops to bring a suitcase caddy closer. They used it to hang the dress, Dora fussing over it almost as much as Theresa had.

  “I’ll get it up to their suite,” Dora said. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and broken blood vessels bloomed along her temples. Her pallor was a cross between old milk and pea soup. She hadn’t looked drunk when Alex’d given Michael into her care last night, but maybe they hadn’t stopped partying, or maybe she was one of those annoying drunks who didn’t wear her sloppiness on her sleeve.

  In either case, she was rough around the edges.

  He wouldn’t mention it. She’d murder him.

  “Rain and Sol are out to lunch with your mother and brother. They’ll be back at two.” Dora jerked her thumb toward the desk. “The programs were dropped off a little while ago by the printer. Any headway on the flowers?”

  “Crescent Blooms in the Tremé.” Theresa smiled. “All set and confirmed.”

  “Good.” Dora reached out to flick Alex’s tux. “If that’s your monkey suit, we’re set. Irene’s at seven. Sol said to remind you.”

  Yes, because I’m the irresponsible brother.

  “We’ll be there.” He glanced at the big clock suspended over the doors; it was just past one. They had six hours before they had to be anywhere else. “Are you hungry, Theresa?”

  “I could eat. Room service, though?” Theresa pulled her T-shirt out from her body and fanned it back and forth. “I need a rinse. It’s amazing how fast you get sweaty here. I’m moist all over.”

  “And not in the fun way,” Dora said.

  Alex eyed her.

  Theresa giggled.

  I think that was a joke.

  Smile so she doesn’t attack you.

  He smiled.

  “All right, see you at the restaurant. Hope your shift’s over soon,” Theresa said. “I’m surprised they’ve got you working the same day as the rehearsal dinner.”

  “I’m covering for Kell. He was too sick to report this morning. Lexi comes in for me at two,” Dora said, settling herself back behind the desk. “I’ve got this. Get out of here.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Alex eyed Theresa at her use of the familiar endearment, but she just cupped Alex’s elbow and led him toward the elevator. Alex punched in his floor so he could drop off his tux. He didn’t expect her to follow him to his suite, but she did, promptly performing an inspection of his décor. Her hand skimmed over the teal damask print of the silk wallpaper. She ogled the velvet couches and gold drapes and examined every picture on the wall.

  “It’s beautiful in here,” she said. “Someone could live here if they wanted to.”

  “I did for a while. The whole family did.” He tucked his tuxedo into a closet. “My parents had the big suite, and that was fine when we were little—the master suite has two spare bedrooms—but as we got older, it wasn’t workable. I moved in here when I graduated high school. Nash and Sol shared the one across the hall—it’s Nash’s alone now. Sol never rents them to anyone. He’ll let fr
iends of family stay in them when we’re not here, but he keeps them intact for nostalgia’s sake.”

  “I saw a nameplate for your mother when we were passing down the hall.” She grinned at him and poked her head inside of his bathroom. “Ooh. Jacuzzi tub.”

  The declaration was followed by the sound of running water.

  I see the bath is happening here.

  Not sad about it.

  Alex watched her back. At least, that’s what he convinced himself of as he actually watched her ass. “My mother got her own suite after Sol took over the penthouse. There are suites for the family lawyer, Brutus, and one for Cylan, too. There are two empty ones, but I suspect Vaughan will be getting one, given that he’s signed on—he’s on your floor for the time being.”

  “Nice.” She eyeballed first the tub and then him. “I’m going to run to my room to grab a change of clothes. Buzz me back in?”

  “Absolutely.” She brushed by him, her fingers grazing his wrist on her way to the door. It was reason enough to snag her and haul her close, one hand on the small of her back, the other sinking into her glorious hair. He leaned in to kiss her. She melted into him, soft, supple lips conforming to his. Before he could push it from playful to smoldering, she wriggled away from him, squirming and smacking at his hand when he trapped the back of her shirt.

  “I’ll be back. Don’t let my water run over,” she said. “You have to feed me before you fuck me, DuMont.”

  He grinned. “Oh, is that all? Well, that’s easy.”

  She snickered, so did he. It was good.

  Alex was eager for her return. The promise of sex was nice, but far more important was the pleasure of her company. She could make him laugh, which was a rare and precious thing. All the stress and strain he carried in his shoulders day in and day out—that same stress that could make him unpleasant and snappy—seemed to leak out of him when they were together. He was comfortable with her.

  It was something a man could get used to.

  He was smiling as he set up the lunch he’d ordered on a TV tray beside the tub. He didn’t need the soak, so he’d sit beside her and feed her if she’d be so indulgent. He even lit some candles and put on some classical music. It wasn’t a seduction scene so much as an appreciation scene. He wanted her to feel how she was making him feel: relaxed. Cared for and about. A little spoiled. They hadn’t known each other long, and it hadn’t been all good all the time, but the sweet outweighed the sour by a lot.

  I’m a little smitten.

  He was okay with it.

  Theresa returned a few minutes later with a tote bag full of toiletries, a dress on a hanger with her underthings looped around the wire top, a pair of shoes in hand, and her camera bag. She’d pinned her hair on top of her head in a lopsided bun that shifted sides whenever she moved her head.

  “No point in dressing twice. Figured I’d do the whole shebang if you’re okay with it?”

  She lifted the dress as evidence of the shebang. He crossed over to her and brushed his lips across her forehead before putting her clothes with his in the closet.

  “Bath is run,” he said.

  Theresa grinned, dropping her stuff on the desk and ducking into the bathroom. Seeing the full tub with scented salts, the myriad of candles, and her lunch platter, she squealed, her hand plunging into the water to test it. It must have satisfied because she stripped raw. He barely had the chance to appreciate her nakedness before she disappeared into the bath, submerging herself up to her chin like the world’s most enticing hippopotamus.

  “I thought I’d feed you,” he said, approaching the tub with his hands in his pockets. “If you’re inclined to be fed.”

  Contributing to the hippo illusion, she tilted her head back and opened her mouth.

  He peered at her. “Does this mean I should throw the food inside?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She never closed her mouth.

  He chuckled as he settled himself into a chair, removing the silver dome on her plate, and carefully forking jambalaya into her gaping maw. She responded with a string of yummy noises, which he almost echoed because his superior position let him look straight down into the water at her chest. Round, balanced breasts. Cherry-red nipples on pale flesh, pebbled and ripe for plucking.

  That’s a bit Sol-like, don’t you think?

  It’s not my fault. She’s that beautiful.

  “You know,” Theresa said, reclining and gazing at him. “The wedding’s almost here.”

  “It is.”

  “I think I’m going to be sad to see you go back to Dallas.”

  He hadn’t given too much thought to the impending forced separation, because he’d been busy with wedding hijinks, but now that she’d brought it up, a tight knot settled in his stomach. He didn’t love her, that wasn’t possible at a few days in, but he was growing fond of her. He liked the companionship. He liked . . .

  Not being alone anymore. The hope that maybe there was something more than 5 A.M. workouts, twelve-hour office days, and Mass by myself.

  “I did offer you that tour of my hotel, remember,” he said, forcing a smile. “If your schedule allows, I’d be happy to show you around whenever you’d like to visit.”

  “And what if I like it so much I want another tour?”

  He leaned down and pressed another kiss to her forehead. “I’ll have to offer another?”

  “Oooh. Good answer.” She grazed her fingers along his cheek before cupping his face and guiding him close. His mouth fitted to hers with a gentle, soft touch that left him breathless for more.

  It was a quiet, intimate lunch, the classical music and the soft whir of the Jacuzzi jets the only conversation they needed. When the jambalaya was gone, he moved on to a peach mousse he spooned into her mouth. She groaned in appreciation, sprawled across the tub back, her arms resting on the outer ledge of the bath.

  “That was perfect,” she said.

  “I’m glad. Should you choose to tour my hotel, I assure you personalized bath luncheons are one of the amenities.”

  Theresa giggled. “Do I get the Happy Ending Special from the manager himself?”

  “Only on days ending in Y.”

  They snickered and shared another kiss. Or four.

  They finished the dessert, him sucking the spoon clean before depositing it back onto the tray. He left her to soak as he cleaned up, bringing their dirty dishes to the cart and wheeling it back into the hall for pickup. By the time he returned to the bathroom, she was standing in the tub, water—glorious water—sliding down over all her hills and valleys. His eyes followed one particularly heroic droplet that started at her shoulder, curved down her neck, coursed over her left breast and nipple before plummeting to the bath below.

  She probably wants a towel, Alex.

  Right. That.

  He forced himself to look away and headed for the linen closet, pulling out a bath sheet so fluffy it could have been made of angel down. She smiled appreciatively and stepped into both it and his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her hair. She settled against his chest, fitted to him, the yin to his yang.

  “Alex?” Her voice held a quizzical note, and he pulled his head back so he could peer at her.

  “Mmmm?”

  “How experimental are you?”

  That is a loaded question. Like, if Sol asked me how experimental I was, I’d expect monkeys or clowns or alien strippers.

  “I’m not sure,” he answered carefully. “Probably not very, but that depends on the situation and who I’m with.”

  “Oh.” Theresa’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Okay, never mind.”

  “No, no. Ask me. What?”

  “It’s okay!”

  He hauled her close, dropping his mouth to the side of her neck and pressing a kiss to the crook of her shoulder. She lifted a hand to the bac
k of his neck to stroke, and he shivered against her.

  “Tell me. Please?” He peppered her delicately perfumed skin with soft kisses. She smelled like lavender bath salts and girl. He wanted to roll in that smell like a dog so he could take it with him everywhere.

  “Okay, fine, but you can say no. Maddy gave us more stuff last night, and I’m curious about one of the things.”

  That piqued his interest. He’d liked Murphy, had liked what they’d done with Murphy, and now she was teasing at other Maddy gifts?

  “I’m listening,” he said, though it was more of a growl as he nipped at her neck.

  She tilted her head back to grant him access to the column of her throat. He capitalized and licked all over her warm, moist skin, relishing in her gasps and wriggles. “Well, I’m curious about the butt plug, too, but that seems like advanced tactics. I’d rather start simpler,” she sniggered.

  He paused his ministrations.

  Work up to the butt plug.

  She really just implied . . .

  “I see,” he said, even though he didn’t really see, but he’d like to. “So there are other toys?”

  Theresa cast him a smile that was some parts shy, some parts devilish, before she headed over to ransack her tote bag. She rummaged through, giggling as she spun around with a pair of glinting handcuffs dangling from her fingertip.

  “I’m super, super curious,” she said.

  He eyed the cuffs.

  He eyed her.

  “So you want me to cuff you?” he asked, watching her saunter across the room. She let the bath sheet drop halfway there, leaving her gloriously naked as she slowly shook her head.

  “Oh. No, no.” She jangled the cuffs in his direction. “I want to cuff you.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  HIS EXPRESSION PROGRESSED from shock to fear to wary interest. When she walked up to press against him, the handcuffs resting against his bicep, he reached for them. She let him take them, watching him examine them, his eyebrows lifted quizzically all the while.