Page 122 of Satisfied 2X
Dylan followed us inside a few seconds later. He had parked her car inside the garage.
I reached for her hand. I wanted him to see it too.
âOut there, people might think you two belong together, but in here youâre ours.â I wiggled the diamond over her knuckle and off the tip of her finger. I placed it on the foyer table in a bowl made from Austin granite. âYouâre mine too, baby. Understand? That ring doesnât belong in my bed.â
She nodded. âIâm yours, Isaac.â
âGood.â
Dylan slammed the door. âWhat the fuck happened at that interview?â
I shook my head. âYou should have warned everyone about Chantel.â I eyed him.
We all wandered into the kitchen. Iâd made sure my house manager stocked the fridge and bar with plenty of wine for Vanessa. I had caseloads of Texas beer. I tossed one to Dylan. He twisted the top off.
âThat was a long time ago. She has a boyfriend. I donât know what the fuck her problem was.â
I showed Vanessa the different wines she had to choose from. She selected a white and smiled. âI like bubbles sometimes.â
I popped the cork off the bottle and poured a tall glass for her. It was some kind of Prosecco. I wondered if this was the gateway to me learning about wines.
She twirled to face Dylan. âSometimes women just donât like to see men with other women. Itâs that simple.â
His eyes widened. âReally?â
She nodded. âYep. Thatâs all it was. She was jealous.â
âWho the hell knew that,â he mused, chugging the beer.
âAt least we got that over with.â Vanessa sat on the tall wooden bar stool. âI didnât know where she was going with those questions. I was nervous. More nervous than I should have been with all that prep Steve did.â
; I leaned against the counter, pressing my leg next to hers. âWhat was that shit about your brother?â I asked.
The beer was cold. I was going to need more than one tonight. I had no plan of us turning in early.
Vanessa sighed. âDanny isnât coming back. Itâs not anything you have to worry about.â
âWhere is he?â
She played with the edge of her glass. âMy half-brother is probably partying in Paris. Hong Kong? I canât keep track anymore.â
âAre you kidding?â Dylan pulled up the seat next to her.
âNo. He dropped out of college and started the Danny McCade world party tour. That was eight years ago. He went through his inheritance pretty quickly. I donât know how much of it he has left.â
I rubbed the back of my head. âShit, Vanessa. Thatâs crazy.â
âDid you say half-brother?â Dylan asked.
âYeah. Same dad. Different moms.â She seemed nervous to look at us. âI never met Dannyâs mom, or mine. We were the products of some quick romances my father had. At least thatâs how my grandmother explained it.â She smiled nervously. âI know now that they bought us for exchange for their silence. My dad wasnât exactly father material. I shouldnât be surprised my brother is just like him.â
âYou donât know who your mother is?â
She shook her head. âNo. And thereâs no way to track her down. She could have been a waitress, maybe a Warriors dancer. Thereâs no telling. I used to pretend she was an artist and ran off to Paris to paint. It sounds better than telling people your mother was possibly a stripper.â
âDamn it, Vanessa. Thatâs messed up.â