Camera Shy (Lessons in Love, #1)(52)
My chest tightens as my jaw twitches. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, please,” Avery says, then vibrates her tongue against her bottom lip. “I was confused for a minute, but it’s all making sense now. Your Rolex has diamonds on it,” she says, nodding to my wrist. “You pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from your wallet without flinching, so I’m assuming there’s more where that came from, and everyone who hears your last name is quaking in their boots. Plus, I lied to you earlier. I wasn’t looking up hippopotamus. I have an uncanny knack for spelling. I was looking up Harvey Griffin Senior who owns two hotels, a dozen restaurants, and several parking garages all on the Strip. Net worth roughly in the ballpark of a quarter billion. Is that true? Those online estimates online are never accurate.” She pumps her eyebrows at me. “They’re usually a lowball. How am I doing here?”
I match her stare. “Are you interrogating me?”
Her smile spreads. “Your wealth is not my business, Finn. But I do wonder why you’re mooching off Dex’s nice steaks and borrowing his hot tub. I get the feeling you could certainly afford your own.”
I could lie about this so easily. I do it all the time. It’s a secret I managed to keep from Nora. To this day, she thinks my grandpa is actually broke because of tax evasion and my inheritance won’t be enough to cover a Happy Meal. It couldn’t be further from the truth.
But this is Avery. Without a doubt, I know my money doesn’t interest her. She’s not exactly a woman after the finer things in life. Yet another reason why we get along so well.
“My inheritance will come in stages. Twenty percent when I turn thirty. Another twenty percent when I turn thirty-five. So on and so forth.”
“What?” Avery asks in a shrill voice. She clears her throat, her prior tone accidental from surprise.
“My grandpa is a level-headed man. He’s established trusts for all of his children and grandchildren, but he set up the disbursements to make sure we still had to work our way through adulthood. I was raised never to count on his money. Plus, there are all sorts of stipulations to get the full disbursements. We have to be married by a certain age, have children, or prove we medically can’t. We have to live in a certain radius. It’s controlling of Gramps, actually.”
It’s the only reason my dad married my mom. She married for love. He married for a payout. My grandpa thought he was doing his son a favor by trying to rein in his dickish behavior, but all he did was make my mom an easy target.
Before I can say more, Angelo, dressed in a full suit, tie and all, arrives at our table with a plate of steamed dumplings and spicy duck sauce. He looks like a walking contradiction. His jet-black hair is slicked back, pulled into a tiny knot on the nape of his neck, yet his three-piece suit is pristine. I can see part of a tattoo wrapping around his thumb. Angelo and I use the same tattoo artist. His big-boy job as Rue 52’s manager was only because of my insistent recommendation to Gramps. I stand by it. He’s a hard worker and a good guy.
“I am so sorry, man,” Angelo says as he slides the platter onto the table. Avery’s eyes follow the heavenly-smelling dish and she’s practically drooling. Poor thing was lying. She’s starving. It’s been nearly two hours since I picked her up and I bet she was saving her appetite.
“What’s going on? The bar is a mess.”
Angelo rolls his eyes. “I had two waiters call out on me ten minutes before their shift due to legitimate medical emergencies. My best busboy burnt the shit out of his hand, and my sous chef sliced his hand open on a bottle of merlot. It’s the house of fucking horrors in here tonight. I was actually back there washing dishes myself. I threw on this monkey suit to come apologize to you. Why didn’t you call me and tell me you were coming tonight?”
He holds out his hand and clasps mine in a brotherly handshake.
“I didn’t want to make a fuss, Lo. I’m simply taking my friend to dinner.”
Angelo gives me an impish smile as he turns his gaze to Avery like a hunter eyeing his prey. I’m not sure what his intentions are with that look on his face, but I’m either about to laugh or knock that stupid smirk right off his face.
His move.
“Where are my manners? Hello…”
Avery sticks her hand out in a hurry. “Avery. Nice to meet you.” She points to the dumplings. “These smell divine. You are the first person to bring me food all evening, meaning you are officially my favorite person in this restaurant.”
Angelo tsks his tongue but doesn’t take his eyes off Avery. “Shame on you, Finn. Starving your date like that. What’s your favorite kind of wine, hermosa? I owe you a bottle for making you wait.”
“Lo,” I gripe, “keep your wine and your compliments and just bring out the rest of our food.”
I know he’s messing with me. He used to do the same thing with Nora whenever I brought her around. A friendly pissing contest. Except when it comes to Avery, I’m not feeling very playful. Just protective. Angelo’s not good enough for her. He’s never going to take the time to appreciate all the layers—her humor, her charm, her elegance, and her flat-out goofiness. He doesn’t realize she has a secret weapon she likes to tuck away. That sweet pussy for starters. Bare, pink, and puffy—all my favorite adjectives for that part of a woman. But Avery plays the part of plain Jane because it’s comfortable for her. She’s trying to hide behind Clark Kent’s glasses. When they come off and she dresses up the way she is tonight, every man can clearly see what they are to her…