twenty nine | spin the bottle

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I wheeled two suitcases onto the runway and hauled them up the stairs of my private jet with Sully right besides me and Vienna with Savannah and my sister, Lily

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I wheeled two suitcases onto the runway and hauled them up the stairs of my private jet with Sully right besides me and Vienna with Savannah and my sister, Lily.

It was absolutely crazy and unreal to think of the fact that Sully and Savannah were getting married in two days. Savannah's family owned a farmhouse in Chicago and since the weather appeared to be better in Chicago than in LA, we were all flying out today so the girls could have their spinster party tonight while Sully had his Bachelorette with us.

And by us, I meant, Sully, I and the slimy fucker, Miller. Ever since my talk with Vienna at her apartment two weeks ago, she'd been saying that she wanted to talk to Miller and see what he had to say but I had always distracted her, not wanting to leave her alone with him. What? I was possessive about the woman that I loved to a fault.

So Vienna had asked Sully if they'd invited Miller to their wedding and Sully had said that he wanted to but since Vienna wouldn't be comfortable, he hadn't. The thing was that both Sully and Savannah came from old money and old businesses so their marriage was an extremely powerful union.

Being from amongst two of the most influential families in the country, they were obliged to invite other business leaders, their clients and potential partners as well. Which included Miller Jones too and so when Vienna gave him the green light, Sully had invited Miller.

Now here's my problem; Sully and Savannah hadn't invited everyone to their wedding. Their official wedding was happening with only a limited number of people; their immediate families and friends; us. As for the other huge businessmen and conglomerates, they were having a reception party this weekend, three days after their wedding for the sake of their name and pride.

“I still don't understand why the fuck you had to invite Miller to your wedding celebration,” I grumbled, rolling mine and Vienna's luggage inside the private jet that would take off in about half an hour to take us to Chicago.

Sully and Savannah had their own private jets too but since their families were only flying in tomorrow and not with us, Sully asked me if we could fly in my jet — actually my grandfather's — and I'd agreed since we didn't use it too much anyways.

“Oh come on,” Sully nudged my shoulder with his and placed his and Savannah's luggage in the luggage room, then helped me, pushing mine and Vienna's bags in their too and turned around to look at me. “I already told you. We became friends when we were in London together and I only stopped talking to him for Vienna. But now that she's okay with it, I'm putting him on probation. Don't be a buzzkill now. He's your friend, too.”

That he was. I'd known Miller since I was fifteen when our parents would take us to galas and charity events and the two of us would sit together and bet on which one of the rich drunkards would get out of the events first. Those were the days I genuinely enjoyed going to such functions with my dad and meeting Miller.

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