: Chapter 11

Everyone was already eating breakfast in the dining room when Sylvie and Connor appeared in the doorway. Sylvie tried to act casual, but Connor’s behavior made it obvious that something was going on between the two of them. He pulled her to his side, putting his arm around her. It wasn’t an act of affection, but rather possession.

Sylvie’s mouth was watering. Mrs. Cosgrove had outdone herself. What a spread! There were platters of scrambled eggs, pancakes, and eggs benedict. Plates of steak, ham, sausage, and bacon. Bowls of berries, melon, and home fries. Stacks of toast, English muffins, and bagels. And baskets of assorted pastries. She sat down to eat, suddenly aware that everyone was staring at her. Connor didn’t help matters; he kept leering at her. It was as though he’d hung a sign round her neck that said ‘I fucked her last night!’

Sylvie’s invisible status had suddenly changed! Everyone noticed her now.

Seanna looked pissed. Furious even! She was obviously not pleased about being bested by someone she considered a nobody, a nothing. What was Connor thinking? Who fucks the help? Incensed at this breach of protocol, her eyes were shooting daggers at her new rival. Looking at it from Seanna’s perspective, Sylvie could understand why she’d be mad. She was a world-famous model. Her face graced the pages of the most influential fashion magazines on the planet. The woman was absolutely stunning: tall and statuesque, with long legs and a wasp waist. She was the quintessential British beauty with a pale, porcelain complexion, long golden blond hair streaked with platinum, high cheekbones, aquiline nose, full lips, and the most dazzling ice-blue eyes fringed with thick dark lashes. She was model perfect: the makeup, the hair pulled back in a low ponytail with just the right number of wisps and tendrils framing her face, the expensive linen shirt unbuttoned halfway down her chest showing off the round firmness of her breasts. It must gall her no end to realize that after all her considerable efforts and despite last night’s brazen attempted seduction, Connor had chosen Sylvie’s company over hers. The look in Seanna’s eyes was more than anger. It was downright hatred. Sylvie had made an enemy.

Deidre was equally undone by the news; her bee-stung bottom lip protruding in a pout. She sulked, nervously fingering her copper-colored curls. A starlet whose specialty was small ingénue parts with an occasional modeling assignment thrown in, she didn’t like the fact that a secretarial-type interloper was making inroads among these wealthy bachelors. Deidre was already fishing these waters, trolling for a mate. If anyone was going to hook a husband or a sugar daddy here, it would be her, not some little upstart. It was obvious that she and Sylvie weren’t going to be friends either.

Bethany and Caris whispered to each other then wrinkled their respective noses in disgust. Bethany adjusted her long blond locks and fixed her green eyes on Sylvie. The look was disdainful, as though Sylvie was a smelly turd or a puddle of puke.

Caris was observing Sylvie too, and she didn’t like what she saw either. Connor’s employee was insinuating herself into their group. She wasn’t one of them. She shouldn’t be socializing with them. Her presence made everyone uncomfortable. What was Connor thinking? Someone should take him aside and tell him. Caris’ mouth was fixed in a strained phony smile as her fingers casually brushed aside her long brown curls. Someone needed to put that little poser in her place! Caris fixed her eyes on Sylvie. Her perfectly plucked eyebrows arched in disdain; her baby blue eyes flashed undisguised contempt.

Sylvie felt as though she’d landed back in high school at a meeting of the mean girls’ club. The ones who picked on shy girls, brains, the plain and inept, making their lives a living hell. She looked around the table at the other women in all their flawless perfection. What a bunch of vain, vacuous, snooty, stuck-up bitches! They were jealous! This was something new for Sylvie. Being envied. She liked it!

She couldn’t be sure what they disapproved of more, her or her breakfast. She was eating eggs benedict, home fries, pancakes, and sausage. They, on the other hand, were hardly eating at all. Seanna was the glutton of the group. She had three whole strawberries and a tiny piece of cantaloupe on her plate. The others were only having coffee. No wonder they were such nasty bitches, they were all starving!

By their hostile reaction, Sylvie couldn’t help but think they all had designs on Connor. She knew for sure Seanna did. Hell, could it have been any more evident? From the bits and pieces of conversation she’d overheard last night and the things Connor had told her, they’d known each other at least 10 years. Sylvie guessed Seanna thought she had the inside track with Connor and resented the competition.

Deidre, Bethany, and Caris were another story. Deidre was with Alex last night, Bethany with Nathan, and Caris with Sean; but from the ‘man talk’ she’d heard up on the mountain, these particular ladies, and she used the term very loosely, had at one time or another screwed most of the guys in the group. Evidently, they passed these women around like candy. Connor had laughed right along with the rest when they discussed Deidre’s penchant for screaming loud enough to shatter crystal when she came and Caris’ habit of wheezing when she gave head. They made the women the butt of their jokes. It was a shitty thing to do and Sylvie felt sorry for the women. The only one who didn’t boast about his conquests was Victor. He was a gentleman and kept his love life to himself. Looking around the table, Sylvie couldn’t help wondering…had Connor slept with all of them? Was that why they were so upset?

All the guys in the group were rich and good-looking, although she wasn’t sure which one was the richest. Sean, Alex, and Connor were all billionaires, but she thought Connor might have the edge on the others. In addition to the hundreds of millions he made from his writing and publishing, he had holdings in a multitude of companies, many of which he either owned outright or where he was the majority investor. That was certainly a significant inducement for the ladies. Who wouldn’t want to marry a billionaire?

In the looks department Victor took the prize. He was the tallest of the group, 6′ 4′ maybe, immaculately groomed, his curly brown hair never out of place. His thick brows shaded the most expressive blue-gray eyes. Connor came next and after him Drake. Actually, except for their heights, Connor and Drake were an inch shorter then Victor; their chins, Connor and Victor had dimples; eye color; and haircuts; the three of them could have passed for brothers. Drake had dark blue eyes. His hair was noticeably shorter than his two lookalikes. He was leaner too, with the body of a long-distance runner. The others were all blue-eyed six-footers. They were good-looking, but not in the same league with their male-model handsome compatriots. Sean was a carrot-top covered in freckles. Nathan had chestnut hair that was cut in a way that formed spit curls at his temples. This and his pale, freckled skin made him look like he belonged in the 18th or 19th century. He had a wide mouth with thick lips and a crooked, fleshy nose. The features were not attractive individually, but when put together they worked. The fact that he was worth a few hundred million didn’t hurt either. Alex was the only blond. He was certainly attractive, but his eyes were so intense and brooding, his demeanor so cold and distant, that he gave her the creeps.

She supposed the women fixated on Connor because he was not like his friends. Sure, he was a surly, arrogant prick sometimes; but he wasn’t inconsiderate, rude, or abusive. He wasn’t one to look down his nose at people. He was actually blasé about his wealth. His friends, men of privilege, movers, and shakers, captains of industry all, were not. They flaunted their money and their power. Connor competed with them to be the alpha male of the group, but it was really no contest. Unlike the others, he didn’t inherit his wealth. He’d made his money the old-fashioned way: he earned it! His father Byron had been a millionaire who owned a small but profitable publishing company. Compared to Connor’s friends, the Hudsons were barely getting by. Byron had owned a brownstone in Manhattan, a house in the Hamptons, and the publishing company. That’s what Connor inherited after his parents’ death. He managed to parlay it into a multibillion-dollar enterprise. His friends were unbelievably competitive with each other and Sylvie suspected they might be resentful of Connor’s self-made success.

Sylvie squirmed as 9 pairs of eyes bore through her. She kept her head down and tried to eat, but she was so nervous and uncomfortable she could barely swallow. Her hands were trembling. Seeing her discomfort, Connor grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. He put a protective arm over her shoulder, gave her a wink, and then slowly surveyed the table. He was offended by his friends’ behavior and the frown on his face made sure they knew it. Seanna looked away, unwilling to meet his gaze. Deidre played with her napkin nervously. Caris and Bethany focused on their coffee cups. Even the men were cowed, and turned their attention to a discussion of their upcoming cruise. Everyone except Drake. He wasn’t backing down.

‘I see little Sylvie was a busy girl last night,’ Drake teased, leering and giving her the once over, wondering what Connor saw in her. He supposed she was cute, and, with the right clothes and makeup, maybe even pretty; but she didn’t hold a candle to the girls Connor usually dated. He didn’t know how old she was, but she looked like a kid. One who hadn’t quite filled out yet. Her figure was boyish and lacked womanly curves. But he supposed, living in the mountains year round, Connor had to settle for whatever was available. The man was a hermit. He really only dated when he was in the city for business or a charity event. Oh he’d bed the occasional woman when he traveled or when his friends came up for a visit, but most times Connor lived like a monk. Dipping his dick into Sylvie was better than banging a local waitress he supposed. If nothing else, fucking his secretary was convenient!

Sylvie blushed.

Seanna smirked.

‘You’ve got to watch out for the shy quiet ones Con! They’ll be your undoing!’ Drake ragged on him.

Connor shot him a threatening ‘back off asshole’ glare.

Drake looked at Sylvie. ‘He likes them fresh-faced, smart, and bookish to boot. You better be careful Sylvie. Very careful! Connor’s a heartbreaker. A real lady-killer. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt. Isn’t that right Seanna?’

Sylvie could almost feel Seanna sharpening her claws. ‘Drake’s right about that,’ she purred nastily. ‘We wouldn’t want you to get in over your head, now would we?’