Headlines (Prime Time #3) - Ella Frank Page 0,49

love to,” I said before Sean had a chance to speak. “Thank you.”

Marcus raised his empty glass and nodded. “Perfect. I’ll see you both there.”

“Can’t wait,” Sean mumbled, making Marcus smile even wider, then his phone began to ring and he excused himself, heading off toward the French doors.

“The fucking symphony?”

Poor Sean. “Aww, it won’t be that bad.” I ran my hand down his chest and swayed in closer to him. The scotch I’d been sipping on all night had made me feel nice and relaxed. “And I’d love another chance to peel you out of a tuxedo.”

“Oh yeah?” Sean wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me in close to him, and I tipped my head up to brush my mouth across his.

“Definitely…” I sighed against his lips. When his tongue slipped out to tease me, I angled my head, and my eyes caught on Bailey across the room.

He was standing beside Henri, who was also looking in our direction. When Sean’s hand slid down to my ass, Bailey’s eyes narrowed, and he spun on his heel, about to book it out of there.

Shit. I put my hands on Sean’s chest and gently pushed him back. When he frowned, I held up a finger and then darted off in Bailey’s direction.

25

Sean

“BAILEY!”

THE SOUND of my brother’s name from Xander’s lips was enough to snap my brain into gear. Xander pulled away from me and started making his way through the crowd.

After their little chat earlier in the night, I’d thought it best to put some distance between the two of them before a second go-around. But somewhere after my third—okay, maybe fourth—drink, my watchful eye had turned into an appreciative one, and instead of making sure to keep my hands to myself, I’d given in to the temptation that was Xander.

Fuck. People moved aside as the birthday boy shoved his way through the groups of people. That was when I spotted Boudreaux exiting the room Xander was now halfway across, and headed in that direction.

I stepped into the hall and saw the three of them booking it toward the elevator, and I knew without a doubt what Bailey must’ve seen. There was only one reason he’d cut and run the way he was right now, and that was if he’d witnessed more than he was willing to see.

As I closed in on Xander’s heels, it didn’t escape me that people had stopped what they were doing and were watching what was unfolding, and I knew if I didn’t get to Xander in the next couple of seconds, they would be in for one hell of a show.

“Xander!” I called out, hoping to snag his attention, but it was well and truly fixated on Bailey.

“Bailey. Wait up a second, would you?” Xander’s request fell on deaf ears. Bailey kept on, clearly determined to get the hell out of Dodge. The problem was that leaving Xander’s fancy high-rise when people were coming and going via his private elevator wasn’t as easy as walking out the door.

Unless, of course, you felt like taking a hell of a lot of stairs down to the ground level.

When Bailey reached the elevator bank, he jabbed the button like he was mad at it, which might’ve actually been the case, now that he realized he was stuck.

But Xander wasn’t about to let him go quietly, and since I was still trailing behind, I had no hope of stopping the train wreck I knew I was about to bear witness to.

“Bailey, come on. Would you stop for a minute and let me talk to you?”

As if he only just now heard Xander calling out to him, Bailey looked in his direction and shoved past Boudreaux.

He stormed over to Xander and got right up in his face. “You know, it was hard enough to come here tonight knowing that I’d have to smile and pretend that I was okay with this when I’m not. But for you to just act like it’s all fine and there’s nothing fucking weird about you suddenly making out with my brother, who you barely tolerated two months ago? That’s not okay, Xander. None of this is okay.”

“I know.” Xander shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking, I just—”

“See, that’s the problem. For the past couple of months you’ve stopped thinking about anyone else, stopped using your brain. It’s like it just up and left your head.” Bailey’s voice was rife with judgment—and a whole lot of alcohol, by the sound of it. “I