The Worst Best Man(92)
“Yes!” Jacqueline announced gleefully. “Like father, like son, I suppose. They both have a thing for the help.”
“Was Cecily a waitress too?” one of the other women demanded.
“Almost as bad,” Jacqueline continued. “She was a secretary or something at the interior design firm he hired to do the house in the Hamptons. Can you imagine? Poor dear always thought we were friends. But that’s what you do to help. You pat them on the head and tell them they’re doing a good job and then count the silver when they leave.”
They cackled like a flock of chickens.
“There goes the bloodline,” someone sighed.
“I suppose I should have told my daughter to get a job at a fast food restaurant or as a janitor when she wanted to catch Aiden’s eye all those years ago.”
Frankie was amazed that the tray didn’t snap in her hand from the pressure she was applying. She did a rapid calculation. Exactly how bad would the consequences be if she beaned the soon-to-be ex-Mrs. Kilbourn in the head with this tray?
Crap. Pretty bad. She seethed. Okay, physical violence was out. But she wasn’t about to let this go.
Frankie grabbed a cocktail toothpick off of the bar and walked into the midst of the hyenas. “There you are, Jackie. You’ve got a little spinach stuck in your dentures,” she said handing over the toothpick. “I’d hate for everyone to be laughing at you behind your back.”
The laughter screeched to a halt. Jacqueline stared at her coldly.
“Oh, and I’m so proud of you for making an appearance tonight. I can’t imagine showing my face in public after my husband dumped me for a woman fifteen years younger. Good for you, sweetie. Will you be at dinner tomorrow night to meet the new Mrs. Kilbourn with the rest of the family?”
Jacqueline’s mouth was hanging somewhere down around her augmented tits when Frankie breezed away.
Okay, it wasn’t as satisfying as popping her one in the face. But it felt good enough.
She stormed back into the kitchen, took a two-minute breather, and then plastered a professional smile on her face and returned to the thinning crowd. Jacqueline was gone, and it looked like she’d taken most of her cronies with her. Probably to prove she wasn’t wearing dentures.
Everyone was looking at her, though, and laying on the profuse thank-yous when she passed with the tray. Ugh. She preferred it when they were too important to look at her. Word traveled fast in high society. Aiden Kilbourn’s girlfriend was slinging apps in an apron on a Friday night. What was the world coming to?
“I’d love a piece of whatever it is you have.” The voice was smooth with a practiced flirtatiousness that immediately put Frankie’s back up.
“Stuffed mushroom caps?” she asked, shoving the tray between them.
He was leanly muscled and slight of frame, close to her own height. She guessed that she outweighed him by a good ten pounds.
There was something insolent about the way he perused her tray before popping the mushroom cap into his mouth and making a show out of licking his fingers.
“I’m Lionel, by the way.”
“Hi, Lionel,” she said, not interested in continuing the getting-to-know-you portion of their evening.
“I’m sure Aiden’s mentioned me before. I usually beat him on the polo field,” Lionel said, tossing his mop of blond hair off his forehead. “We like to compete against each other in everything.” He lowered his voice as if he were imparting a secret.
“Good for you,” she said side-stepping him. But he followed her, blocking her path.
“You’re very beautiful, you know. I saw you from across the room and just couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“Cut to the chase, Lionel,” Frankie demanded with the minimum of politeness she could muster. She hated being restrained by the required professionalism of her current role.
He reached out and traced a knuckle over her cheek. “I think you’d like being in my bed better than Kilbourn’s. What do you say?”
Fuck off. Go fuck yourself. Go slather yourself with ground beef and walk into a grizzly bear den. “No thanks.” There was enough chill in her words that Lionel should have gotten frostbite.
“Maybe you need a little convincing. I like it when a girl plays hard to get.”
“Are you talking to me like this because I’m the help or because your wallet says you can?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “What a wildcat you are. Come on. Forget Kilbourn. Have a drink with me. I’ll pay you for the rest of your shift.”
Lionel made a fatal mistake by grabbing her wrist and giving her a tug.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Aiden frowned at the text from Frankie.
Frankie: Can’t make it tonight. Raincheck?
The last time they’d talked, they were both looking forward to a night together. Aiden drummed his fingers on the desk, a dread growing in the pit of his stomach. Had Elliot actually carried out his threat? Had he underestimated his sniveling, lazy coward of a brother? The fact that Elliot needed money was obvious. But as for the why? It was still a nagging mystery.
Aiden’s investigation had barely begun, and he had yet to dig up any connection between Elliot and Donaldson.
He’d assumed it was an empty threat. Elliot was many undesirable things, but his quest to be an important asset to their father was equal to no other goal. And Aiden was counting on that consistency to buy himself some time. He needed to figure out just how to break the news to Franchesca that he’d caused their best friends years of misery.