a smile of true happiness, and it’s a slanted, crooked thing, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “I was counting on the fact that you wouldn’t.”
“So I guessed. What, you didn’t think I’d let you win just like that, did you?”
“A man can hope,” he says. “So what? You accepted, and now you’re going to deliberately sabotage my business? An expensive endeavor,” he snorts.
Whatever wry amusement I’d felt flees. I put my glass down so hard I fear it might shatter. “You honestly think I’d do that?”
“Just to spite me? Sure.”
I glare at him and will him to drop dead from the impact. But he doesn’t, staring back at me like I’m his worst nightmare.
As if he wasn’t mine first.
“Don’t turn this around,” I hiss. “I know you’re hoping I’ll fail, so you can go on believing I’m nothing but Cole’s screw-up sister. Well, I won’t. I refuse to.”
“Hoping you’ll fail? I have millions of dollars on the line here. Don’t flatter yourself, Blair.”
“Oh, I seldom do where you’re concerned.” I wrap my arms around my chest. “We don’t need to like each other.”
“Thank God,” he mutters.
I pretend like the barb doesn’t hurt. “What we do need to do is work together. And be civil, for their sake.” I nod toward the door where Cole and Skye had disappeared. “Think you can do that, vulture?”
If he’s offended by my use of his media epitaph, he doesn’t show it. He extends a hand instead.
Once before I’ve shaken that hand. I still remember what it felt like—the faint scarring on the inside of his palm that’s intrigued me ever since.
I close my fingers around his. They nearly disappear in his firm grip. He shakes my hand twice, eyes boring into mine the entire time.
“Prove me wrong,” he says. “Help me make this business a success and I’ll be civil.”
“Fine,” I grind out. “To civility and profit.”
“Civility and profit.”
We nod to each other like we’ve signed an historic peace accord. In a way, we have. Never before have we openly acknowledged our dislike of each other. To have it stated so baldly makes something in me wither.
Apparently, there’s a difference between knowing and knowing. I want to ask him why we never became friends in the first place. But the fierce look on his face keeps any such questions from surfacing. No doubt he’d bite my head off for it.
The door swings open and Cole steps through with two full bags. The scent of curry and spice wafts through the air. Despite my anger, my mouth waters.
His eyes flit between Nick and me. My brother is no idiot—he can feel the icy temperature in the room. He steps past us and into the dining room instead.
“Come along, children,” he says in a tired voice. “If you’ll stop bickering for just another hour, we’ll let you out of here soon enough.”
I don’t know if Nick feels chastened, but I do. I’m on my best behavior all through dinner. Not surprisingly, that means largely ignoring Nick’s presence.
“We’re going to Whistler the weekend after next,” Cole says. “There’s more than enough room for both of you.”
“In separate wings?” I quip.
“Thanks,” Nick says, “but—”
“Oh, please, both of you, don’t say no right away,” Skye interjects. “There’s space aplenty, not to mention a hot tub. We can play charades. Or,” she adds, probably seeing the look in Nick’s eyes, “we can spend the days skiing and the evenings quietly reading books and not talking at all.”
Cole shakes his head at her rambling, but his smile is good-natured. He looks at us both. “I’d very much like you both to come,” he says simply.
His words are enough to make my insides knot. I want to go. I want to spend time with them. I want to play charades and eat s’mores and doze by the fire.
Skye puts a hand on mine. Her eyes, so familiar and dear to me now, sparkle with mischief. “And you can bring the cute guy you’re dating. André, right?”
I open my mouth to tell her that it’s over—I’d broken that off nearly a month ago—but another voice speaks first.
“I’ll go,” Nick states. “Thank you for inviting me.”
I look at him across the table. There had been no hiding the strength of purpose in his voice. “Lovely,” Skye says. “We’re happy to have you. The place is gorgeous, really.”
“I’m sure it is.” He glances over at me, as if he’s daring me to accept.
I grit my teeth. “I’ll come too,” I say sweetly. “I can’t wait.”
“Me