Fall (VIP #3)(70)

He earns another ear flick. Whip is about to say something when the elevator door opens and two people get out, clearly arguing.

“The fact that I smiled at the Uber driver and wished her a nice evening does not mean I was hitting on her,” says a big, blond guy, clearly Rye Peterson. The sheer perfection of his thickly muscled arms is enough to identify him. There is a Tumblr dedicated to “Rye Peterson’s Arms.”

The woman with him is Brenna. Just like on the night of the party, her long hair is in a high, sleek ponytail that she flips over her shoulder. “The fact that you took her number makes you a total liar.”

His hands lift in exasperation. “What was I supposed to do? Toss it back to her? Then I’m all over social media as Rye the asshole who was mean to some woman. And you know it.” He leans in, crowding her space. “I mean, are you or are you not my publicist?”

Brenna gives him a cool look. “As your publicist, I’d advise you to keep your dick in your pants.”

His smile is dark. “Sounds a lot like jealousy to me, Berry.”

“Berry?” Whip repeats, breaking their silence. “You got a pet name for her?”

Both of them freeze, Brenna turning a shade of raspberry pink. I empathize. It sucks how easily we redheads blush.

Felix coos in the silence. Brenna smooths her skirt and heads our way, her heels clicking on the marble. “Felix Tiberius, my man.” She lifts his tiny fist and baps it against her palm.

John steps back from the doorway. “Can we take all the drama inside, please?”

“No drama,” Brenna assures. “Just dealing with someone’s big head.”

“Which head are you talking about?” Rye says with stage leer. “Because I have two heads, sweetheart, and they’re both big.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Brenna sing-songs as everyone files into the penthouse.

“Where’s Sophie?” John asks, cutting off Rye’s protests.

“Out with her mum.” Scottie makes his way to the Biedermeier sideboard that serves as a bar. “She sends her regrets.”

Before John can close the door, the elevator dings again, and a pretty woman with silver-blue hair steps out. She looks like a 1940s pinup but is dressed in blue overalls and red Chucks and is holding a large tin food container. “Freedom!” she cries in a very good Braveheart impression, hand held high in victory.

From the way Scottie and Felix both beam at her, I’m guessing this is Sophie.

John gives her a kiss hello on the cheek. “Thank Christ. I don’t want to deal with Scottie being in a mood because you’re not here.”

Scottie snorts. “For that, I’ll still be a moody git to you.” But to Sophie he smiles. “Darling, your men have missed you.” Felix squawks in agreement.

“My handsome boys,” Sophie coos, smothering them with smoochie kisses. Neither male seems to mind in the least. In fact, they both purr under her care. She turns to John. “I know you have dinner covered, so I brought some bibingka for dessert.” Her words trail off and her eyes go wide with some sort of internalized shock. “Holy hell, I’m becoming my mother. Quick, somebody take this damn food and perform an exorcism!”

John snickers. “Too late, the damage is done.”

“Oh, hush your evil mouth.” She swats his arm and then turns to me with a smile. “Hey, I’m Sophie. I’ve heard good things about you.”

“Really?” It comes out in an embarrassing squeak.

“Oh, yes. Gabriel says you’re driving Jax crazy.” She practically beams. “Which is a wonderful thing indeed.”

“Darling,” Scottie interjects smoothly, “leave Jax be. He’ll have a fit, and we’ll never eat.”

“Watch out, Stells,” John murmurs. “Apparently, I’m to have a fit soon.”

“At least I know I drive you crazy.”

“You already knew that, Button.”

True.

He closes the door, and I step close to him. “Who is Maddy?”

The extremely fond look in his eyes kind of makes me want to scream. Especially since it’s clear he knows I’m jealous. “Maddy, my dear sweet Stella, is our seventy-four-year-old neighbor who kindly lets me into her home now and then when I get lonely for company.”

I stare like a stunned deer for a second before my body sags. “Oh.”

He’s smug as hell and has every right to be. “I kind of love that jealous little growl you made, though.”

“I did not growl.” I wrinkle my nose when he stares me down. Okay, I might have growled. “Maddy is Mrs. Goldman?” What is her first name? Madeline? It has to be her. Though I can’t picture calling her Maddy.

John confirms it with a nod. “You’ve met her?”

“We had lunch together. She tried to play matchmaker between us.”

“Really?” He sounds pleased. “Well, that just proves she has great taste.”

“Don’t get a bigger head, John. You still need to fit through doors.”

Smiling, he touches my wrinkled nose fondly. “I was talking about her taste in you.”

Gah. He’s going to kill me with his charm. They’ll find me in a puddle of lust with only my panties floating in it.