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smilingformoney · 1 month

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For the Love of Books | Sinclair/Betty (OC)

X. The Lion's Den

Summary: Betty and Sinclair attend a party.

AN: Now with added Lionel :D

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

Betty had never been one for adventure. She preferred to stay in and read about other people having adventures. Moving all the way to London from Falmouth to open her own bookshop had been a terrifying prospect, and certainly the most daring thing she’d ever done.

Learning to drive, being in a relationship, having sex - these were all things that most people did as a normal part of life, but they’d passed Betty by. Then came Sinclair, bringing all these adventures into her life, showing her new ways to experience the world. She loved the adventure that was being with him, and she happily agreed to any crazy idea he came up with.

But even so, his latest idea had taken some convincing and a lot of puppy dog eyes. For there was no way Betty could ever understand the appeal of rollercoasters, yet eventually she caved and agreed to go to Thorpe Park with him.

Leaving Goldie in Mei-Li’s care, Sinclair drove the two of them in the Accord to the theme park, which was only a 20 minute drive away but it felt like an eternity to Betty, especially when the tallest rollercoasters loomed on the horizon as they got closer. Sinclair, of course, told Betty all about the theme park that had opened 13 years ago, and he assured her that the rides were safe.

Sinclair practically bounced out of the car and Betty had to jog to catch up with him at the park entrance. His enthusiasm was admittedly infectious, and Betty thought that some of the rides might be fun, so long as they weren’t too fast or too high.

Somehow, Sinclair convinced Betty to go on the ‘Flying Fish’ ride. He was practically vibrating with excitement when they got off, ready to go another five times, and he turned to Betty to suggest that they go again when she dashed off into the nearest bush and promptly vomited.

“Betty!”

Sinclair quickly ran to her side and gathered her hair in his hand to hold it back from her face. With his other hand, he rubbed her back soothingly as she vomited again, then after a few moments she straightened up and Sinclair offered her his handkerchief.

“I’m never doing that again,” she mumbled as she wiped her face.

“Definitely not! Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and have a sit down.”

Ten minutes later, Betty emerged from the toilets feeling as clean as she could having used a public toilet, and found Sinclair at a picnic bench, tucking into some no doubt overpriced food.

He swallowed his mouthful of hotdog and said, “I bought you some fries in case you’re hungry but if you still feel sick and you don’t want to eat that’s okay. How do you feel?”

“Better. When we have kids, you can take them here, I’ll stay home with Goldie.”

“…When we have kids?”

“Well, I fully intend to get married and have kids and grow old with you. You’d better tell me now if you don’t want to, before I get invested.”

Sinclair smiled and wriggled happily in his seat. “I’d love that. Let me just get divorced first, though. Speaking of how much I love you - it’s a lot, by the way - Valentine’s Day is next week.”

Betty popped a fry into her mouth. She was hungry, but she didn’t want to upset her stomach again.

“Yes, it is. Did you want to do something for it? I’ve never had a Valentine’s Day before. What do we do that’s so different to every other day?”

“Well, I was going to offer to take you out somewhere nice to eat, but last night my cousin called me, he’s having a party on Valentine’s Day. He’s no romantic but he’ll take any excuse to throw a party. Would you like to go? He always throws the best parties, he’s got a huge manor in the countryside and all the food and drink is free!”

“You want me to meet the family already?”

Sinclair waved a hand. “It’s only my cousin. Neither of us had siblings and we’re the same age so we’re the closest either of us has to a brother.”

“Big manor in the countryside? Is he rich too, then?”

“Oh, very. Much richer than me.”

“Richer than you, eh? Is he single?”

Sinclair’s eyes widened as he bit into his hotdog, and Betty laughed.

“I’m kidding, Sinclair! Your cousin could be the richest man in the country and I’d still rather be with you.”

“Goo’cuseis,” Sinclair replied with his mouth full of hotdog.

“What?”

Sinclair swallowed, then repeated, “Good, because he is!”

“He is what?”

“The richest man in the country. He’s a billionaire, I’m just a humble millionaire. Only the Queen is richer than him.”

Betty thought back to last year’s Sunday Times rich list for a moment, then dropped a chip in surprise.

“Your cousin is Lionel Shabandar?”

Sinclair nodded, as if he hadn’t just dropped a huge bomb on her.

“So do you want to go? It’s okay if not, we can stay in or we can go to a restaurant —”

“No, no, I’ll go,” Betty said quickly. “I’d like to meet your family. I want to hear all the stories about what baby Sinclair got up to. I bet you were so cute!”

“What do you mean were?” Sinclair asked in mock offence.

“Well, of course you’re still cute now. What do you want to do for the afternoon?”

“Oh, don’t you want to go home? I thought you might not want to go on any more rides.”

“No, I don’t, but I don’t fancy a car ride either. I’m happy to watch you go on the rides. Plus there’s other stuff we can do. I’d love to go to the petting farm!”

“Yes, let’s do that! But don’t tell Goldie we’ve been petting other animals, he might get jealous.”

Betty decided not to mention that Goldie couldn’t understand English, and if he did he probably wouldn’t be jealous, and instead she fished out the park map to find their way to the farm while Sinclair started listing all the animals the farm had.

“I heard they have ponies, do you want to pet the ponies? And sheep and goats too, but I don’t think I’ll pet the pigs, although they are still very interesting so I’d like to see them.”

“I want to see all of them, and maybe once you see how sweet pigs are, you’ll stop eating their brothers and sisters,” Betty said with a smirk, looking up at Sinclair, who had finished his hotdog and was now licking the mustard from his fingers. He looked at her with alarm.

“Do you think they’ll be able to tell?”

“Well, I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out if one of them jumps at you.”

Betty stood up and Sinclair followed her, eyes wide with worry that an angry pig was going to tackle him.

“Can pigs jump? I have no idea if pigs can jump. Maybe we should ask someone there, just in case —”

Betty laughed and took Sinclair’s hand as they meandered through the crowds towards the ferry station for the farm. “Relax, Sinclair, they’re not going to be able to tell you’ve eaten pork.”

“Do you want me to stop eating pork? I can stop if you want, although I’ll miss the pork sandwiches that David does, but your halloumi burgers do look really nice.”

“Just pork or other meats too?”

“All of them! I’ll stop eating meat from right now. That hotdog was my last meat ever! Oh, no, but I have some chicken in the fridge… well, I’ll finish that off, then I’ll stop.”

Betty stopped walking suddenly, and Sinclair skidded to a halt when he realised she’d stopped, her hand in his preventing him from moving any further.

“You’d give up meat for me?” she asked with a frown.

“Of course,” Sinclair said with a shrug, as if it was a trivial thing. “It makes you uncomfortable so I’ll stop. Besides, when one of us cooks we always eat vegetarian so it’s not like - mmhm!”

She interrupted him with a kiss, which he happily reciprocated, and when they separated Betty was looking at him with such sweet adoration in her eyes that Sinclair wanted to melt.

“You never cease to amaze me with how sweet you are, Sinclair,” Betty smiled.

“I just want to make you happy, Betty. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, come on, let’s go pet some ponies.”

---

The following Friday, Betty stepped out of her dingy London flat feeling like an absolute imposter, dressed in a gold dress and heels to go to a party at the home of the richest man in the country. Not only that, but she was attending as the date of said richest man’s also very rich cousin, who had managed to avoid mentioning in the last four months of knowing her that his cousin was Lionel Shabandar.

Sinclair was waiting outside, and they both equally gaped when they set eyes on each other.

”Sinclair - a limo?!”

”Betty… you look amazing.”

She blushed. She’d closed the shop early and spent all afternoon and far too much money at the salon getting her very curly afro straightened and the money she had left after that had gone towards her dress. She knew that the type of people she’d meet tonight were the type who could tell if she wore a dress from Primark, and would judge her hard for it.

”Thanks,” she said with a smile, fiddling with her hair nervously. “You look even more handsome than usual. Have you combed your hair?”

”Have I —? Never mind my hair! Look at yours! I almost didn’t recognise you! Oh - before I forget - since it’s Valentine’s Day…”

He produced a bouquet of roses from behind his back with a grin, and Betty blushed even harder.

”Sinclair! You didn’t have to go to all this trouble…”

”But it’s Valentine’s Day!” he said with his best puppy dog eyes. “And I have the best date in the world!”

”You’re so cute.” Betty leant up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. Let me just put these upstairs —“

”It’s okay, there’s a vase in the limo! It’s so much fun, there’s a mini fridge too, and a TV, and —“

”Are we going to a party at a mansion or in the car?”

”Both! Come on - here, let me help you in.”

Sinclair opened the door for her and helped her in like a proper gentleman, then he tucked the roses into a compartment and instructed the driver to take them to his cousin’s mansion.

”Clair, be honest, do I look okay? I don’t want to stick out like a sore thumb among all these rich people…”

”You look so beautiful, Betty! I mean it. How did you get your hair so straight? That must have taken ages.”

”Oh, it took all afternoon. Straightening an afro isn’t an easy task, I wouldn’t dare to try it myself, I had to get someone to do it. It’s why I don’t straighten it often, it’s far too much effort.”

”It looks amazing. So beautiful. I’d love it if you were able to magically straighten it so you could have it like this more often. Not that I don’t love your curly hair, I adore your curly hair, but I love this too. You’d look good with any hair. Or no hair! Please don’t try that, though. And the dress is amazing! Gold suits you. Any colour suits you, but I really, really like this one. Do you want to see what’s in the mini fridge? I had a little peek on the way over, but I haven’t had any of it yet. Only the snacks. There’s still some crisps left, I think, but I ate most of them, sorry. There’ll be loads of food at the party, and loads of drinks, and they’re all free! Lionel really goes all out for his parties. He goes all out for everything. You think I’m rich, wait until you’ve seen his place. He has artwork worth millions of pounds, just sitting there!”

”Is that any different to your cars just sitting there?” Betty interjected.

”My cars aren’t worth that much!” Sinclair insisted. He was pouring the champagne into glasses now, and shooed Betty’s hand away when she tried to help. “Okay, a few of them are worth millions, but not nearly as many. Natalie always said I had more money than sense, but if anyone does, it’s Lionel. Here you go!”

He finally stopped to breathe as he handed her a glass of champagne.

”Happy Valentine’s Day to the best girlfriend ever!”

Betty laughed. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Clair. I love you.”

His eyes lit up as if she hadn’t said it a thousand times before. ”I love you too!”

They clinked glasses and drank, and Betty swore it tasted just the same as a £20 bottle from Somerfield, but she was sure the price tag was significantly higher.

”So, you just kind of dropped the bomb on me the other day that your cousin is Lionel Shabandar,” Betty said as she leant back into his arms on the double-wide seat. “Do you know him very well? I barely know my cousins.”

”Yes, we’re the same age, so we grew up together and went to Winchester at the same time. We were both very interested in business, and obviously we’re both rich and successful, but he’s even better off than I am because he invested a lot of his money whereas I’ve always loved spending. Then he bought all these media companies and put them into one big company so he owns most media companies in the country now and he can afford to spend even more than I ever did.”

”Yeah, I know he’s got a huge publishing house. Most of my stock is published by Shabandar Books.”

”Not just books! He owns TV channels, magazines, newspapers. I keep telling him he needs to invest in the internet, all my research at work says it’s the next big thing.”

”What’s internet?”

Sinclair’s eyes widened in the excited way they did when he realised he could explain something new to her, and so Betty spent the rest of the trip listening to him explaining some miraculous technology that let computers talk to each other even when they were miles apart. She was so focused on listening to him that she almost didn’t notice the limo slowing to a stop as they approached the mansion, and she almost jumped when the driver got up to let them out.

”Wow.”

It wasn’t eloquent, but it just about summed up Betty’s feelings when she stepped out of the limo - aided, of course, by her very gentlemanly boyfriend - and saw the mansion before her.

She clung onto Sinclair’s arm and let him guide her down the path. The gardens were packed with partygoers, and Betty didn’t want to get lost in the sea of people.

Sinclair was narrating as they walked down the path, pointing out stories behind statues, most of which seemed to be, “Lionel likes lions because of his name so he buys anything with a lion on it.”

“Oh, there he is!” Sinclair exclaimed. “Lionel!”

A man turned around, around the same age as Sinclair and bearing a strong family resemblance. He smiled and went to greet Sinclair with a handshake, but instead Sinclair pulled him into an embrace.

”Good to see you, cuz!”

”Ah - Sinclair. Good to see you too,” Lionel said with a restrained smile. He endured the embrace until Sinclair let him go. He turned to Betty and smiled very differently - warm, welcoming, and his eyes looked her up and down. “And who is this lovely lady?”

“Elizabeth Bennett,” Betty said, holding out her hand to greet him. She blushed when, instead of shaking her hand, Lionel took it gently and kissed the back of her hand as if the sound of her name immediately turned him into Mr Darcy.

”A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Lionel Shabandar.”

”Yes, I… know who you are.”

Sinclair wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side. Lionel raised an eyebrow and dropped Betty’s hand.

”Betty’s my date for this evening,” Sinclair said firmly. “And every evening.”

”Oh, is that so?” Lionel replied, though he didn’t take his eyes off Betty for an instant. “You’re not tired of my cousin talking your ear off yet?”

”Of course not, I love listening to him talk.”

”Well, someone has to, I suppose,” Lionel shrugged, then turned his attention back to Sinclair. “What happened to that wife of yours? Natasha, was it?”

“Natalie. We’re divorcing. Didn’t your mum tell you?”

”Oh, probably, I don’t really listen when she starts talking about family drama. Well, I’m glad for you, Sinclair. She was such a bore. I’m sure you’re much more engaging, aren’t you, Elizabeth?” Lionel said, turning to Betty once again.

”I hope so.”

”She’s amazing!” Sinclair gushed. “She’s so smart, she owns a bookshop that she runs all by herself, and she used to be a librarian so she’s read almost as many books as I have, and she’s great at memorising things like the Dewey decimal system, cooking recipes, and she can recite most of Shakespeare by heart!”

Lionel chuckled. “A literature lover, I take it? I’m quite partial to paintings myself, and they do say a picture can paint a thousand words.”

”A thousand words isn’t actually all that much. Especially not when you’re dating Sinclair. He can say a thousand words in one breath.”

“She’s right, I can!” Sinclair grinned. “And she’ll listen to every one of them. Or at least pretend to. Say, Lionel, why don’t you show Elizabeth some of your artwork? She didn’t believe me when I told her you had paintings worth millions.”

“Yes, of course I will! But it’ll have to be later, I have rounds to do. Excuse me.”

Lionel took Betty’s hand to kiss it again, then sauntered off to speak to some other important rich white man.

“Well, he’s… charming.”

Sinclair sighed and shook his head. “That’s one way to put it. I should have known he’d try to flirt with you - he loves beautiful things, and you’re the most beautiful thing here. Not that you’re a thing - I mean because you’re beautiful. More beautiful than anything or anyone here.”

Betty laughed and leaned up to kiss Sinclair on the cheek. “You said the food here was free. Shall we go feast?”

Sinclair’s eyes lit up. “Yes, let’s!”

It soon became evident that getting some alone time with Sinclair was going to be impossible. He was constantly running into people he knew, greeting them like seeing them was the best thing ever, then proudly introducing Betty as his partner. The reactions were mixed - some were surprised or confused that he was with someone other than Natalie, some seemed happy to see him rid of her, and one or two looked at Betty like she really shouldn’t be there. Those people, as soon as their faces fell, Sinclair quickly turned cold to and made an excuse to get rid of them.

Sinclair was deep in conversation when Betty finished her food, so she excused herself to get some drinks. On the way back, she saw from afar that Sinclair was already chatting to someone else and was nearly finished with his food, so she stopped at the buffet table to grab him some more as she knew he’d be torn between continuing his no doubt very interesting conversation and eating more food.

She arrived at the table with a plate of food in one hand and drinks on a small tray she’d borrowed from the bar in another. She placed the drinks tray down first, followed by the plate of food, and Sinclair looked at the plate in surprise, then up at her, and his eyes lit up when he realised she’d brought him some more food.

“Ah, more drinks, excellent,” said the man Sinclair had been talking to, an older man in a suit as fancy as everyone else’s there. He helped himself to one of the drinks, and Betty frowned at him.

“Hey, that was mine!”

The man frowned at her, as if surprised she’d said anything. “Excuse me, young lady, these drinks are for guests.”

Betty froze. She didn’t want to cause a scene, not in front of Sinclair. It was their first fancy event as a couple, and she didn’t want to embarrass him. But she knew exactly what the man meant - he thought she was a server.

Sinclair, it seemed, had clocked too, because he straightened up and shot an icy glare at the man.

“I think you’ll find there are three guests at this table, Mr Benson. I did say my partner had gone to get drinks.”

“Well, then, she’ll have to fetch her own, won’t she? Rather than sending a server to bring them over.”

“I am the partner, dickhead!” Betty hissed.

The man looked at her with shock, as if the concept of his fellow rich white man dating a black girl was unprecedented.

“I’ve changed my mind, Mr Benson,” said Sinclair coldly. “I don’t think I have capacity to take you on as a client after all. I think you should leave now.”

“Well, I never!” Mr Benson spluttered, before standing up and storming off.

Betty felt her shoulders relax and she took her seat next to Sinclair.

“I’m sorry,” they both said in unison, then laughed.

“Don’t be sorry, Betty, you handled that very well.”

“I called a potential client a dickhead.”

“Well, he was being a dickhead. Besides, I don’t want someone like him as a client. You’ve just saved me a lot of trouble. I’m sorry you had to go through that at all."

Betty shrugged. “It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be used to it!” Sinclair insisted stubbornly. “People like him are morons. I can’t believe anyone would look at you and think anything other than, Wow, she’s so beautiful, I can’t believe how lucky Sinclair is.”

“Yeah, well… I can’t believe anyone would be married to you and think, Hey, maybe I’ll fuck my brother. There are some strange people out there.”

Sinclair laughed. “We must be the only sane ones!”

“We must be.”

She kissed him chastely on the lips, not wanting to be too affectionate in public, and he responded by squeezing her hand under the table.

“I can’t believe you brought me more food without me even asking!” Sinclair said with a grin when their lips parted and his attention turned to the food in front of him. “You’re so amazing. Here, why don’t you have the drink Benson didn’t touch?”

“That’s okay. Actually, it’s getting a bit crowded in here for me. Do you mind if I go for a wander? You can stay here and mingle, I just need a bit of quiet for a bit.”

“Mmm-hmm!” Sinclair replied, his mouth already full of sandwich. He swallowed, then said, “Of course you can, Betts! Maybe see if you can find Lionel and get that tour from him!”

“Good idea. I love you.”

“I love you too!”

She kissed him on the cheek and left him to his mingling, and she was barely on her feet when he was already waving over someone he recognised.

The crowd thinned when Betty managed to squeeze out of the gazebo, but with so many people she didn’t know it was still quite overwhelming, and she was relieved when Lionel emerged from the crowd and greeted her.

“Elizabeth! There you are. How would you like to have a look at my artwork now? I’m desperate for a break from all this chitchat.”

“I was just looking for you to ask that myself.”

“Perfect timing, then. Come along.”

Lionel offered her his arm and she took it gratefully, glad to have someone to anchor herself to in the busy crowd, and she felt like she could breathe again as they left the chattering people behind and approached the front doors to the manor.

Betty followed Lionel inside, eyes wide and mouth agape as she stared at the incredible architecture - and this was only the reception hall. The walls were adorned with painting after painting, and Lionel steered her into a hallway, where more paintings stood proudly on display between lion statues.

”You certainly seem to like lions,” Betty commented.

”Well, they’re the kings of the jungle, aren’t they? And the business world is a jungle in itself.”

”And you fancy yourself the king of it, do you?”

Lionel smirked at her. “I am the king. Come along.”

He placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her down the hall, naming each painting and its artist as they passed it, and Betty wondered how much he’d paid for each one of them. The insurance alone was probably more than she’d make in a year.

”You know, king of the jungle is a misnomer,” Betty commented as they turned a corner to be greeted with yet another lion statue. “Lions don’t live in the jungle. They should be called the king of the savannah if anything.”

”Actually, jungle is a Hindi word for a place uninhabited by humans - such as savannahs.”

Betty glanced at him, surprised, and he shrugged. “Sinclair isn’t the only person who knows things. So what do you think of my collection, Elizabeth? Quite impressive, don’t you think?”

”There’s certainly a theme,” Betty said, glancing between two of the many paintings that depicted naked women.

”Well, I also have a collection of landscapes, but I must admit that I have a penchant for the feminine form. This one seems to have caught your eye.”

She felt more than heard him come up behind her as she examined a painting labelled Otahi .

”What is it about this one that intrigues you, Elizabeth?” Lionel asked softly. “Is it the way she sits? You know, this particular painting was considered rather controversial when it was painted. The way she sits… ready and waiting… exposed. Do you feel an affinity to her, Elizabeth? Does this particular painting arouse something in you?”

When had he got so close? Betty suddenly felt very aware of Lionel’s breath on her neck, his hands on her hips - when had they got there? - and when he pulled her back slightly to press against him, she felt a bulge on her lower back - just where —

“Lionel —”

”Hmm?” Lionel replied absentmindedly, his lips by her ear, the gap between them growing ever smaller as he leant his head down towards hers —

“I’m here with Sinclair.”

”Are you? I don’t see him anywhere. He seems to have abandoned you.”

”You led me here…”

”You were all alone.”

”He was talking to someone…”

”He’s always talking to someone. Gets distracted so easily. But don’t worry… my attention is solely on you, dear. Let me kiss you, Elizabeth. I sorely want to kiss you…”

Can I kiss you? … I’d really like to kiss you now … Can I have another kiss?

Sinclair’s voice rang in her head, and Betty felt as if she’d just been jolted awake from a hypnotic state. She tried to pull away from Lionel, but his arms were wrapped around her torso tightly - when had that happened?

”No, thank you,” Betty whispered, her voice hardly audible. She could hardly believe she was turning down the richest man in the country, but as much as he looked like Sinclair, he wasn’t Sinclair, and she only wanted Sinclair.

Lionel only chuckled. “Must you play hard to get, darling? It’s Valentine’s Day. A day for lovers… for making love…”

“Thank you for the advice. I’d really prefer to make love to my boyfriend.”

”And who says who that has to be? Hm?”

”Lionel —”

”Betty?”

Lionel let go of her as if her skin had burnt him. Betty took a sudden, deep breath, as if he’d been suffocating her. Maybe he had been. She turned to see Sinclair standing at the corner of the corridor, looking between them both.

”Sorry, I interrupted,” he said in a cold, detached voice, unlike anything she’d ever heard from him. “Don’t mind me.”

Sinclair turned and left, and Betty followed him as quick as she could.

”Sinclair, wait!”

He left through a side door that led to a quieter part of the grounds, and she jogged as fast as she could to catch up with him.

”Sinclair - come on! I can’t catch up to your long legs in these shoes - ow!”

She hissed as she stumbled, twisting her ankle to the side, and she grabbed onto a nearby lion statue to steady herself. She hopped to a bench and sat herself down to take her shoes off, but before she could do so, Sinclair was suddenly on his knees in front of her, unstrapping the shoe from the ankle she’d rolled.

”Thanks. I don’t think I’ve twisted it. Sprained, maybe.”

”You shouldn’t be running in these,” Sinclair muttered, not looking up at her as he eased the shoe from her foot.

”I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t run off like that.”

He looked up at her, his eyes full of anger and hurt, and it broke her heart to see it.

”What was I supposed to do? You clearly needed your privacy —“

”Sinclair, stop it,” Betty snapped harshly. “I’m not Natalie. Okay?”

”Am I supposed to believe that was innocent?”

”From him? No. Maybe I should have told him to back off more firmly, but… I didn’t know what to do. We were just looking at art and suddenly he’s got his hands on me and I can’t make a scene, not with someone like him, not in his own house, so I just… froze. But I said no. He asked for a kiss and I said no. Then he said it’s a day for lovers so I said the only lover I wanted was you and…” She sighed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let it get that far. Maybe I should have seen it coming when he pulled me away from the party and started showing me his collection of paintings of naked women, but I’m an idiot, okay? I thought he just wanted to share his art. I forgot men are pigs.”

Sinclair didn’t say anything at first. He just held her ankle gently, looking at it as if it held all the answers. Then he looked up at her meekly.

”Not all men are pigs,” he muttered. “You always said I was more of a puppy.”

Betty smiled. “Yeah. You’re my puppy.”

”You know, dogs can get very possessive. They growl at people who try to take what’s theirs. And what’s a little puppy compared to a great lion?”

”Hey.” Betty stroked Sinclair’s cheek softly. “I’d choose my puppy over a lion any day.”

Sinclair’s eyes shone a little more hopefully then. “Really?”

”Yes, really,” Betty laughed. “I love you, Sinclair. Do you really think I’m gonna sneak off to shag your cousin?”

Sinclair shrugged dejectedly. “Better my cousin than your brother, I suppose.”

”Oh, god, don’t even joke about that,” Betty gagged. “Will you get up here and cuddle me already?”

Sinclair got up from his knees, ignoring the grass stains on the knees of his very expensive suit, and sat next to her on the bench. She wrapped her arms around his waist and cuddled up to his warmth.

”I’m sorry,” Sinclair mumbled into her hair.

”Don’t be. At least now I know you don’t want to lose me.”

”Never! I never want to lose you, Betty. You’re everything to me.”

She leant up to kiss him, and he finally smiled.

“I love you, puppy.”

”I love you too, kitten.”

“Do you wanna dance?”

Sinclair’s eyes lit up. “You said you hate dancing!”

“Yeah, well, you have a way of making me see things in a new light. I think I might like dancing if it’s with you.”

“What about your ankle?”

Betty gave it an experimental flex. “It’s okay. I think I was just being a bit dramatic.” She leant down and slid her shoe back on, then stood up, cautiously putting weight on it. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she concluded. “Come on, Mr Bryant, ask the cute girl to dance.”

Sinclair immediately stood and straightened his posture, and Betty laughed when he gave her a little formal bow.

“Miss Bennett, would you do me the honour of accompanying me in a dance?”

“Why, Mr Bryant, I’d be honoured!”

She took his proffered arm and let him guide her back towards the party, which was still in full swing, with plenty of other couples already dancing, but Betty was pretty sure none of them were as in love as she and Sinclair were.

“You’ll need to lead me, I have no idea how to do anything other than the robot,” Betty admitted.

Sinclair spun her around suddenly, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her up against him, their noses almost touching, and Betty felt a blush rise to her cheeks.

“Focus on me,” he said softly. He was quiet, and the music was loud, but Betty still heard him, because to her there was no one else in the world.

She looked at him, his sweet amber eyes alight with excitement, and nodded.

Betty hated dancing because it made her self-conscious, but for the first time, she felt she could move without fear of being watched. Maybe she was being watched, maybe her dancing was terrible, maybe people were laughing. What did it matter? She was with Sinclair. She was holding him, being held by him, their bodies moving in tandem, perfectly synchronised and so clearly made for each other.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” Sinclair murmured in her ear. Betty blushed, shrinking in on herself slightly, and Sinclair gently lifted her chin back up to look at her. “I mean it, Betty. I think you’re even more beautiful than…” He thought for a moment. “Julia Roberts.”

Betty laughed. “Julia Roberts?!”

“She was voted People Magazine’s most beautiful woman last year. And she is beautiful, I suppose, but she’s nothing compared to you.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s your favourite thing about me?”

Sinclair, whose hands were currently around her waist, reached down for a cheeky butt grab.

“This!”

“You can’t say my bum! Or my boobs. Or my heart, that’s such a cop-out.”

“Okay, okay!” Sinclair returned his hand to her waist and grinned down at her. “I love your eyes. I love how they sparkle when you laugh or smile, and the way your pupils dilate when you look at me. And I love your smile too, you have so many different smiles, but I think my favourite one is when you’re trying not to laugh. And your nose is so cute too - and I love your hair, of course. Can I just say everything?”

“Sinclair, saying everything is your whole thing.”

“That’s true! If you think I don’t shut up now, just ask me to list everything I love about you, I really won’t shut up then!”

“If we ever get married, you might well set the record for longest wedding speech ever.”

“If I was on Mastermind, my specialist subject would be you.” Sinclair gasped. “I should go on Mastermind! I’d be great at it! I don’t need the money, I’d probably donate it to charity, or just spend it on you. Not that there’s anything I wouldn’t buy you anyway. Anything you want, I’ll get it for you, Betts.”

Betty bit her lip thoughtfully. “Well… there is one thing I’ve always wanted to do but I’ve never been able to afford it.”

“Anything!”

“I’ve never been abroad.”

Sinclair was so shocked that he stopped moving, and Betty almost stumbled.

“Never? Surely not. Not even to France?”

“Devon’s the furthest we ever went for holiday.”

Sinclair shook his head stubbornly. “Devon’s not a holiday when you live in Cornwall! That’s just going up the road! No, that’s it, we’re going on holiday. Let’s find a travel agent tomorrow and book somewhere. We could go to the Caribbean, the Maldives, Hawaii… what kind of holiday do you like? I suppose you won’t know, will you, if you’ve never been away… do you have a passport?”

“Yeah, I needed one to get the shop set up. I don’t need to go somewhere fancy, Sinclair, but it’d be nice to go somewhere just the two of us, no work or Natalie in the way —”

“We need to bring Goldie!”

“Can’t Mei-Li look after him?”

“Well, yes, but she deserves a break from us too. Think about where you want to go and we’ll go! Somewhere dog-friendly with lots of fun things we can do!”

“I can think of some fun things we can do wherever we go,” Betty said suggestively, her eyes alight. “We wouldn’t even need to leave the hotel room…”

Sinclair blushed and glanced to the side, as if checking for anyone who might have overheard. “Betty…”

”Mmm?”

“Be careful what you say… you’ll make me want to whisk you off to one of Lionel’s many spare rooms.”

“Is that such a bad thing? I don’t think he’d mind…”

“I’d much rather get you home where we can cuddle and sleep afterwards.”

Betty laughed. “Sinclair, if we wait until we get home, it’ll be another hour before we leave while you say your goodbyes to everyone.”

“I… don’t have any condoms with me.”

“I bet Lionel does.”

“You’re determined to have sex in my cousin’s manor, aren’t you?”

Betty grinned. “What can I say? I waited a long time for you. I’m gonna savour every moment.”

She trailed a hand down his chest, stopping just a few inches shy of his waistband, her fingers teasing at the buttons on his shirt.

“What d’you say?”

Sinclair glanced around. No one was paying either of them the slightest bit of attention. He grabbed Betty’s hand and led her away from the dancefloor, away from the crowds, and no one noticed them slip away into the manor.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Betty giggled five minutes later as Sinclair hastily unwrapped a condom he’d snuck out of a drawer in Lionel’s study.

“It was your idea!”

“I thought we’d go to a bedroom, not Lionel’s personal art gallery!”

Sinclair grinned cheekily, a twinkle in his eye. “I thought it’d be more fun. We can go somewhere else though if you want —”

“No, here’s good, I don’t wanna wait.”

Betty hitched up her skirt around her waist as Sinclair unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out to roll the condom down.

“You don’t wanna go on the bench?”

“No, wall’s good. C’mon, Clair, I need you —”

“I love it when you’re desperate.”

Sinclair gently pushed her thighs apart, then tugged the fabric of her soaking wet knickers to the side and began teasing her entrance with his tip.

It was easy to forget their height difference when they were in bed, but it was glaringly obvious now as Sinclair loomed over her, and though she knew he’d let her go if she asked, she liked feeling enveloped by him, as if there was nothing else in the world except the two of them.

“Arms around my shoulders,” Sinclair instructed her. She obeyed, and he lifted her thighs up with his large hands, wrapping her legs around his waist to allow him to slip inside her.

“Fuck , Clair…” Betty sighed with relief as he sandwiched her against the wall, pushing himself past her walls and settling in comfortably.

“Sinclair, please… please fuck me…”

He kissed her cheek and smiled.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

Betty had never in a million years expected this, yet here she was, getting fucked against the wall of a rich man’s personal art gallery, in the arms of her best friend, the sweetest and most loving man she’d ever met, who apparently had a daring sexuality with a bit of encouragement.

She felt completely safe in his arms, physically and emotionally, knowing he would never do anything to hurt her, that he loved and accepted her even with all her flaws.

“I love you, Sinclair,” she murmured against his ear, and Sinclair whined in response.

“I… I love you too, Betts,” he panted. “Mhm - fuck - this is really hot, but can I put you down?”

She giggled.

“Yes, I know I’m probably quite heavy. Wanna move over to the bench?”

“Yes, please.”

Sinclair put her down and pulled out of her, but he was back inside her within seconds when she bent over the bench and spread her legs for him.

He gripped her hips firmly as he thrust into her, and though he preferred to see her face, he did love the sight of her arse jiggling with each thrust, and he could see her hands holding on to the edge of the bench, trying to hold herself steady as he thrust inside her.

Betty knew that if either of them put a finger anywhere near her clit, she’d be done for. The sound of Sinclair’s moans, the slapping of his flesh against hers, filled the large, empty room, echoing back to them, and neither of them cared much that at any moment someone might decide to have a break from the party to have a look at some art.

They were so lost in the moment that they didn’t even notice the door open partway, only to close again as soon as Lionel realised he’d found where Betty and Sinclair had snuck off to.

Sinclair leant forward, his torso pressing against Betty’s back, and with her hair straightened he was able to pepper the side of her neck with kisses, alternating between kisses and murmured words of adoration, reminding her how much he loved her, how happy she made him, how much she’d changed his life in just a few short months.

“Clair… Clair, touch me, please, I need you…”

“Yes, yes, of course, anything for you, Betty…”

He reached around her body to rub at her sweet spot, and his expert fingers quickly had her cumming hard around him, her shouts of his name echoing around the gallery, and he came with a garbled cry soon after, the feeling of her walls shuddering around him too much for him to endure.

Some deranged part of Betty’s brain wanted him to cum inside her, to fill her up completely, and when he pulled out and lifted his weight from her, she felt like a part of her had pulled away with him.

She caught her breath, then let him pull her to her feet, giggling incoherently as she pulled her dress down.

“We really ought to get out of here before someone realises what we’re up to.”

Sinclair wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, smiling.

“Mmm, cuddles first though. Then how about we get cleaned up, say our goodbyes, and we go home and cuddle some more?”

“I’d like that. Can we fuck some more too?”

“Definitely.”

Sinclair had never left a party so quick.

#close my eyes 1991 #sinclair bryant #alan rickman #lionel shabandar #sinclair x betty #for the love of books

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