Kiss the Sky (Calloway Sisters #1)(54)

Ryke rubs his lips in thought.

Loren glares at him like “you better not have fucking said her name”—but I think we all hear Daisy in his head anyway.

“Rose,” Ryke grimaces.

I laugh into my sip of champagne.

“Rose,” Connor says. “And then me, of course.”

“Top or bottom?”

Lo glares. “Top.”

Ryke shakes his head in annoyance. “I don’t care.”

“Top.” Connor grins. “Always.”

“Do you think Daisy is as sexually active as Lily?”

Lo’s eyes flash cold. He stands up. “I’m done with this sh*t.”

“What the f**k kind of question is that?” Ryke asks. He rises and chucks a pillow.

“No, she’s not,” Connor says definitively. He stands and buttons his suit jacket. “That’s enough for the day.”

While we go to commercial break, Daisy picks herself off the ground, her cellphone in hand. She tries not to make eye contact with any of the guys. It’s clear that the media is trying to determine whether or not my little sister will turn out like Lily.

And this fact only causes Lily to stay buried in Lo’s shirt, not only doused with shame but now guilt.

My chest hurts for both my sisters, but there’s nothing in my power that can reverse what’s happened. Maybe my clothing line isn’t worth this attention.

I scroll on my phone. My sales…they’re up by ten percent so far. The little ads that cut to the commercials must be helping. They say, Purchase the clothes worn by the Calloway sisters right now! And they show the links to the CC website.

I wish my body didn’t soar by the small success. A part of me wishes this reality show was a failure so I could easily choose my sisters’ welfare over my dream. I should do it. Two years ago, I think I would have. But I wonder if Lily would ever forgive herself for driving my company to the ground. I think she needs to know that my company is okay too—that she didn’t destroy everything with her addiction.

Daisy’s phone slips between her fingers and clatters to the floor. She bends down to pick it up, forgetting that she’s in a black backless dress I designed, short on her thighs. The dress immediately rides up, showing half her ass since she wears cut-off boy-short underwear.

My little sister has sufficiently mooned the crowd.

Ryke is the closest to Daisy. “Fuck,” he curses, quickly standing behind her. He grabs the hem of her dress and tugs down.

The three guys look over their shoulders at the nearest camera.

“Did they see her…?” Lo trails off, not able to talk about Daisy’s ass without cringing.

“That one did.” Connor motions to a photographer with horned-rimmed glasses, gesturing for him to come over to us. As the photographer nods and approaches, Connor pulls out his phone and makes a quick call.

Daisy struggles to pick up her cell.

“Daisy, grab the fucking thing,” Ryke tells her, having to literally tug her dress down three more times as she moves.

She finally snatches the phone and spins towards him with a large smile. “Got it!”

Ryke stares at the hem of her dress, making sure it’s not riding up. I should be the one doing it, but I’m slightly tipsy, and I fear moving the wrong direction in my four-inch heels. I already sway a little. If it wasn’t for Connor’s hand protectively on my waist, I would have stumbled by now.

“Are you checking out my ass?” Daisy asks with the raise of her eyebrows

“Yeah, so did the rest of the fucking party.”

“So what’d you think? On a scale of one to ten.” She grins playfully.

“I’m not rating your ass.”

“Will you ride it then?”

“Daisy,” I interject. Stop, I mouth. She pushes Ryke too far, and he’s not one to back down from these kinds of conversations.

Daisy’s smile fades. “Sorry…I was just messing around.” She flips her phone in her hand. “I’m going to go…mingle.”

Now I feel bad.

“No,” I tell her sharply. “You’re staying.”

“No, it’s cool. I need to go talk to Mom anyway.” She avoids Ryke who stares down at her with a strong gaze—filled with this unadulterated concern. It’s strange for such a hard-lined guy to have such potent empathy for others. But I’ve seen it come out on more than one occasion.

Connor speaks into the receiver of his phone. “Greg, you see this photographer nearing me?”

So he called my father.

Connor continues, “He has a picture of your daughter’s ass. I’m going to take the camera if you don’t send someone to do it.”

I hear my father say, “Which daughter? And I have someone on the way. Thank you.”

“Daisy.”

My father lets out a large sigh. “That one’s going to kill me.”

Connor’s lips slowly upturn, and his eyes glimmer with this unbridled longing. It’s powerful but barely visible. Fleeting. Like an eclipse of the sun.

He truly wants children.

He wants the challenges that each one brings.

He smiles as though he can’t wait for that day where he has to deal with the hard parental choices, the dilemmas, the chaotic situations he must calm.