Chapter Text
Benedict Bridgerton’s infamous parties, thrown on the third Saturday of every month, without fail, always found Kate in the most uncomfortable of predicaments. The Bridgerton’s to her were just the rich, prolific family next door, neighbours whom Kate had been forced to become friends with after her step mother Mary had befriended Violet Bridgerton when they’d found out they were both widowers. Forced might be a strong word. Kate adored the Bridgerton’s, and so did her little sister Edwina. They’d all grown up together, albeit at different ages and in different stages of life, but it had always felt like they were the best of friends. Everyone except Anthony, of course. Kate hated Anthony with a passion one might regard as concerning. They never got along, bickering and biting at each other with sarcastic quips, only showing some semblance of niceties for the sake of the families. According to Kate, Anthony was uptight and bossy and annoying and a smart-ass, and according to Anthony, Kate was obstinate and careless and irritating and lacked the common sense one should have to be considered normal. All this to say that Kate hated Anthony Bridgerton, had done all her life, but could not decipher why he consumed every single one of her most private thoughts and why she could do nothing but stare at him from across the crowded, moonlit garden of Bridgerton house.
He barely listens to whatever nonsense Siena is yapping on about in his ear, as he glances over at Kate on the other side of the garden, his heart hammering in his chest as he observes intentionally, Thomas Dorset, Kate’s boyfriend, say something to her that makes her laugh with abundance, as she places her hand on his shoulder, inching her body in closer towards his. He balls a fist at his side, and brushes Siena off, making his way over to Benedict’s makeshift bar by the pool. He doesn’t know why it annoys him. She’s Kate Sharma. Edwina’s annoying sister. Kate Sharma who works for EB law, of which Anthony is CEO. Kate Sharma, his employee. Kate Sharma, his neighbour. Kate Sharma, his nemesis (which he knows sounds ridiculous at his ripe old age of 27). Kate fucking Sharma, with her incredibly long legs, and her dark curly mane, and her sweet, harmonious laugh, and her wide doe eyes. God, he wants her so bad. One could say he’s wanted her ever since they were kids, running around playing tag, or when Anthony’s dad died and he’d completely shut himself off from everyone until Kate screamed some sense into him, or when her dad died and he found her in the garden shed drinking alone, sobbing uncontrollably and she hadn’t stopped until he’d wrapped her in his arms and told her everything was going to be alright and that he was there for her or when they both turned 18 and went off to university to study law, the same university, he might add, and they’d still decided they’d hated each other, but oh, how they agreed they needed to work off some stress, which ended with with Kate strewn across the bed in his accommodation, her legs wrapped around his head, and her back arched against the mattress with pleasure. Or sometimes it was Kate on her knees before Anthony taking his cock in her pretty little mouth, her head bobbing as Anthony held her hair back and took his pleasure. Or those times when she’d sink onto his cock, riding him as he moaned and spluttered beneath her, watching her gorgeous tits bounce in his face, before they both reached a sweaty climax. They never spoke about it afterward, when Anthony would climb out of her bed and shuck on his trousers, placing a dainty kiss on her forehead and telling her to have a good day, but wouldn’t leave until he said something else to aggravate her. They’d never slept together after he employed Kate, instead Anthony turned his frustrations to running through women he didn’t even like. To keep sleeping with her as her boss was too messy, too risky. And besides, Kate deserved better than that. A boyfriend, a partner, someone who would give her the world. No one else knew either. Knew that the reason neither of them had a relationship during university was because they were too busy entangled in the sheets together, or that to Anthony, Kate Sharma was the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on or that he’d wanted Kate Sharma to be his for the longest time. But he knew he could never have her.
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‘Bridgerton.’ Kate says, nonchalantly, as she saddles up beside Anthony at the bar.
‘Sharma.’ He replies, with a nod.
‘How unexpected it is to see you here. Parties and having fun are not really your thing, are they? Unless you’re just here to scream at us all to get off of your mother’s lawn at the end of the night? That seems more like your kind of vibe.’ She says, as the bartender (one of Benedict’s underage friends, she makes a mental note to scold him later), hands her a drink.
Anthony gulps down his drink, and sets his glass down before turning to her and ignoring her question.
‘Thomas? Thomas Dorset?’ He asks, glaring at her.
‘Yes, what about him?’ She asks.
‘Didn’t think he was your type.’ He replies, as they both simultaneously turn around to look at Thomas who is talking to a bored looking Eloise.
They both face each other again and when their eyes meet, they laugh in unison.
‘You’re right. He’s not. I’m just having a bit of fun, I guess.’ Kate says, once they finally calm down.
He doesn’t know why he says it. Maybe it’s the way she’s looking at him, so familiarly, or the way her knees brush against his with their bodies turned toward each other on the bar stools.
‘You could have called me if you wanted some fun.’ He says, refraining from backing out and removing his gaze.
Her eyes widen, in shock.
‘Anthony…’
‘I just mean that…’ He starts, but is cut off by Thomas who approaches them, coming up behind Kate and wrapping an arm around her front, placing his palm upon her breast, which Kate removes as quick as it landed, and Anthony shuffles away from her.
‘Anthony. Great party. Ben really know how to throw a good one.’ Thomas says, cheerfully, as Kate continues to stare on at him.
‘Thomas, thanks for coming.’ Anthony replies, plastering on a wide grin, and stretching his hand out which Thomas shakes.
‘Is everything alright?’ Thomas asks, sensing the odd tension between them both, as Kate remains mute and Anthony stares at her.
‘No. I need to talk to Anthony. In private.’ She says finally, ignoring Thomas’ response and confusion and grabbing Anthony’s hand, all but dragging him inside the house of which she knows the layout all too well.
‘Kate?’ Anthony calls out, but her grip on his hand remains firm and she leads him through the halls, until finally, she reaches their silly little posh coat closet (who has a coat closet?!) and pushes Anthony inside, before following him in and closing the door behind them.
She all but pounces on him before he can even get a word out, locking her lips on his, draping her arms around his back and jumping up to wrap her legs around his waist. It takes him a minute, but once he realises, he cups her arse covered by the skimpy fabric of her satin mini dress and squeezes it with a groan. He kisses her back and slips her his tongue, as they each fight to consume the other. Kate threads her fingers through his luscious hair and whimpers when she feels his hand trace around her arse to her thigh.
‘Wait!’ She shouts, pulling away from him, but he holds her still, and her arms wrap around his neck still.
They both pant, breathless, as Anthony’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion. She takes her thumb and smoothes out the crease on his forehead, giving him a gentle smile.
‘I have something to tell you.’
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