The Bride Test (The Kiss Quotient #2)(44)

He dug the paperback out of his inner coat pocket and flipped through the pages with his thumb once before he caught himself.

“You’re kidding me,” Quan said, pinning a disgusted look on the book. “You’re going to read with her sitting there?”

“Yeah.” That had been the plan. Weddings were bad enough on their own, but watching Esme and Quan interacting like best friends was even worse. He didn’t bother analyzing why.

“Can’t you try to be nice to her? It’s obvious weddings are hard for her. She grew up without a father, and it has to suck seeing the bride with her dad.”

Khai frowned. He hadn’t made that connection earlier. Because of his stone heart. But now that he understood the reason for Esme’s sadness, he swore he’d go through the list of Phils one by one if he had to, and then he’d send her dad to her wrapped in a red bow like a Lexus on Mother’s Day. As for being nice to her, he recalled his brother’s weakness for orphaned anything—dogs, cats, tiny gangsters from school, you name it. “She’ll be fine with you there.”

“Are you … handing your girl to me? You’d be okay with me and her being together?”

It took Khai a moment to comprehend what his brother was saying, but then his muscles flexed involuntarily. No, he wasn’t okay with that. He didn’t want Esme for himself, but he didn’t want her with anyone else, either. He always pictured them apart but single.

“Because I’m interested,” Quan continued. “Those eyes alone would do it, but the rest of her …” Quan made hourglass movements with his hands. “Jesus.”

Listening to his brother talk about Esme that way was worse than hearing someone chew with their mouth open, and the unfamiliar desire rose to punch Quan in the nose. When Khai noticed he’d fisted his hands, he uncurled his fingers, appalled. He pushed away his violent thoughts and forced himself to be rational. When he thought about Esme’s needs instead of his own, one thing became very clear.

Quan was perfect for her.

His brother could give Esme the things Khai couldn’t. Quan could make her happy and understand her, and most important, Quan could love her. Khai wanted that for her. She deserved that.

“I’m okay with it,” he heard himself say. After clearing his throat, he made himself clarify, “I’m okay with you two being together.” Cold sweat beaded on Khai’s forehead as sickness swam in his stomach, and he swallowed a mouthful of his drink. He couldn’t remember what it was, but it tasted strong. He wished it was stronger. “I’m going to go read downstairs. Let her know, all right?”

Quan considered him for a moment, his gaze level and weighted. “Yeah, I’ll let her know.”

Khai tipped his glass in Quan’s direction and fled the banquet room, feeling like he was leaving something priceless behind.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN



When Kh?i left the banquet room with a drink and a book in his hands, the lobster in Esme’s mouth turned to chalk. It was the best lobster she’d ever eaten, the ideal blend of salty and sweet balanced with the freshness of ginger, but she was no longer hungry. He was abandoning her. Again. She swallowed with effort before wiping her hands clean and sitting back in her chair.

Quan took the seat next to her as servers cleared the table of dinner plates and placed fluffy slices of cake in front of everyone. She picked up her fork and considered her slice from different angles, trying to muster the enthusiasm to eat.

“What are you looking for?” Quan asked.

“It is too pretty to eat.” The frosting flowers looked like they’d been painted with an airbrush. Roses, hibiscus, a lotus blossom, seeds, all colors. Normally, she’d be excited to stuff them in her mouth, but not now.

Quan laughed and pushed his plate toward her. “I already made mine ugly. You can share with me.”

His offer brought a smile to her face despite her mood. He was one of the nicest people she’d ever met, and she was unspeakably glad he was sitting next to her. “Wasting food is bad. I will eat it.” She pierced her cake’s perfect surface with the tines of her fork.

As she took her first bite of airy vanilla cake, lightly sweet frosting, and strawberries, Quan leaned toward her and asked, “How are things with you and my brother?”

The cake went bland on her tongue. When she tried to wash it back with water, she found her glass empty and had to steal Kh?i’s. “Fine.”

“Really.”

She poked at her cake with the tip of her fork and lifted a shoulder, saying nothing.

“The dancing starts soon,” he said. “Want to dance with me?”

Her eyes jumped to his face. “You want to dance? With me?”

“Yeah, I want to dance with you.” His lips curved into a smile, transforming his face from severe and dangerous to wildly handsome. Oh, this man.

“I, um …” She put her fork down, sensing this was important. “It looks bad if—Why?”

“I don’t care what people think. It’s just a dance, Esme,” he said with a careless grin.

But it wasn’t just a dance. It was more than that. She was in this for marriage, and people would be vicious if they saw her flitting between brothers. C? Nga would be disappointed. Quan had to know that. Unless …