Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(60)

She pulls out the second chrome wire shelf. “The main dish—slow-cooked lamb shank with a selection of three potato dishes.”

The Irish theme is for my County Cork born mother.

I inspect the dishes and nod my approval as the intercom buzzes.

“We’ll let ourselves out discreetly, Mr. Kane.” The caterer smiles at me as if we’re sharing some big secret.

I’m not sure why, I’m very open about the fact I don’t cook my own dinners. I often work twelve-hour days so the last thing I want to do is come home and spend an hour cooking. There’s no chance of the Kane ladies thinking I cooked any of this.

I walk down the hall to greet my guests and open the door for Danny, my mum, and my two sisters, Charlie and Callie. Callie, my youngest sister, sports one of those rings that goes right through her nose like a bull ring. We all hug.

Mum kisses both cheeks, leaving lipstick smudges I’m sure, and marches in briskly, peering over my shoulder. I know what she’s at, she’s scouting to see if Natalia, my housekeeper, is here. Natalia keeps my house in a permanent state of clean, the fridge stocked, my suits dry-cleaned and pressed and the bed linen changed at least once a week. None of this sits well with my mum who thinks that letting a stranger in to do your washing is vulgar. As far as she is concerned, it’s as bad as having a harem of women living in the house with me.

There are twenty years between the three Kane siblings. We joke that Charlie and Callie are accidents. In the seventies, Mum and Dad met in London when Mum was at nursing college and Dad was a labourer. They came from an era in Ireland when condoms were frowned upon, and the withdrawal method was the choice of contraception. None of us were planned, hence the age gaps. When I was fifteen, Dad decided he had enough of England and us, and skipped over the water to be with a woman from Kilkenny. A harlot, as my mother would say.

I spot Jack walking towards the house. Good timing. “Go into the bar area,” I instruct the others. “I’ll let Jack in.”

Off my kitchen is a custom-designed cocktail bar, one of two in the house. The second is in the cinema room downstairs. I’d spent a few million buying the house and the same again on the renovation job.

“Mate.” Jack grins as he approaches the door. He hands me a bottle of Scotch.

I spot the vintage and nod approvingly.

“You know I had to send my PA all over town because of your particular tastes?” He hands me his coat, and I lead him into the hallway. “She called five times in a panic. She said I can only find a twenty-five-year Glenfiddich vintage reserve. ‘Is that sufficient, Jack?’ I had to say, ‘No, Julia. It must be at least a Glenfiddich 1975 or older.’”

I shrug. “I have good taste and know what I like.”

We join the others in the bar area where Danny is serving up the drinks.

“Mrs. Kane, your favourite sherry.” Danny hands my mum her tipple, beaming at her. Lickarse. He’s even more attentive to her now he’s dating Charlie. “Sweetheart, what do you want to drink?” he asks, kissing my sister on the forehead as she pops herself onto a barstool.

I resist the urge to snap at him. While I’m delighted that my best friend and sister have found happiness together, the big brother instinct sometimes takes over.

When I found out about their secret relationship, things were rough between Danny and me. I knew Danny when he was working his way through every beautiful woman in London. That’s not what I wanted for my sister. It was a dark time when I thought I’d lost my closest friend, but Danny and I hashed things out when I realised he was serious about Charlie. In fact, we all spent Christmas in Danny’s holiday home in the Shetland islands.

Still, they are a new couple and it’s taking us all a while to adjust to the change in dynamics.

“Wine, please.” Charlie smiles back at him adoringly. “This smells amazing, Tristan.” Her eyes dance with mischief. “We hear you men had a lovely night out last week at the Regency.”

Danny flinches.

For fuck’s sake, he’s a leaking tap now he’s with my sister. Doesn’t he understand bro code?

Mum looks up sharply. An Irish mammy can sniff out a story that’s been kept from her.

“Ah, yes” Jack pipes up. “We met a lovely female lawyer that works for Tristan. Tristan knows her quite well, don’t you?”

“How well?” Mum asks briskly.

I grimace. “Not well enough to send me up an aisle, if that’s what you’re asking.” I take the canapes out of the warming oven.

Charlie eyes them suspiciously. “What are these? No surprises tonight, Tristan.”

I grin. “Smoked Gammon Ham with mustard glaze.”

She sucks in air. “Pig is out. Sorry, I just can’t.”

“I think you should write out menus for us,” Jack says, taking three. “Do you have any of those pork pastry things that you had last time?”

I skewer him with a look. “No, Jack, you slept with my last caterer, remember?” I shoot an apologetic look at Mum.

His brow furrows as he thinks. “Oh, yes! That’s unfortunate. If I knew I had to give up those pork pastries, I wouldn't have done it.”

I lead them into the dining room, where the caterers have set the table according to the menu, and then I return to the kitchen to fetch the first course.