Billion Dollar Beast - Olivia Hayle Page 0,20

spoiled little sister.

The look re-ignited my stupid old crush. Despite his words, the harshness of them, the constant comments. Do you ever have a thought you don’t speak? Or once, two years ago. Don’t you have another failed fashion line to launch? They’d hurt, and whittled away at my want of him. I’d thought it nearly gone.

But his gaze has brought it all back.

And more than that—I realize now that I have power where he’s concerned. Not power he’s willing to give up, but power all the same. A small part of him, at least, wants me.

The thought keeps me from sleeping. Lying in the giant bed in one of the guest rooms, I stare up at the pine-wood ceiling and ignore the stag horns mounted on the opposite wall. He’s in a bed in a room not far from here. What’s he thinking?

It’s a stupid question. Not once have I been able to predict what Nicholas Park thinks, and starting now will drive me mad. But still.

He’d looked.

Skye and Cole are already up when I drag myself out of bed the next day. They’re in the kitchen, Cole watching as Skye flips pancakes, her brown hair in a braid down her back. I watch them from the door for a moment. He’s taunting her—saying she can’t flip more than two in a row.

“My money’s on Skye,” I announce.

“Ah-ha!” she says. “At last, someone has confidence in me.”

Cole shakes his head at me, but his smile is wide. “Et tu, Brute?”

“Especially me,” I confirm. “Is Nick not up yet?”

“He’s already down in town, getting his gear,” Cole says. “He said something about hitting the slopes early. Is it all right if you two ski alone this morning? I’ll join Nick out on the slopes later today.”

“Of course. That means the afternoon is ours,” I add to Skye. “There’s a ton of non-skiing activities in Whistler, you know. We could go dog-sledding.”

Her eyes light up. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Then you two should definitely do that.” Cole is already reaching for his phone. “Let me call them and set it up. We went there when we were what, eleven and eight?”

I nod. “I’d just seen the movie Balto. It was epic.”

“We should take Timmy dog-sledding when he joins us next time,” Skye says. “He’ll love it.”

Cole steps away to set it up. I grin at Skye, and find her grinning right back at me. “Have I told you that I’m happy my brother married you?”

“Yes,” she says, flipping another pancake high. Her smile is triumphant. “Including during your wedding toast. But I still very much like hearing it.”

“Good, because I’ll keep saying it.”

The rest of the morning passes in a kind of lovely, vacationy haze, one that makes my muscles ache and my heart happy. Cole’s chalet is staffed when he’s there, and one of the drivers helps me assemble all the gear I’ll need. I’m ready by the time Nick returns.

He takes a step back when he sees me waiting, leaning on my skis. We look like polar opposites—my trousers and ski jacket are sleek and white, his are form-fitting and black. The high neck of his jacket rises up to meet the cropped fit of his dark hair.

“You’re ready,” he says.

I nod. “Ready to race you to the end.” This is something I know I can do. Sunscreen on, hair braided, my body itching to hit the slopes. Cole and I used to race, too—but he has Skye now. I suppose Nick might feel the same way. Both of us discarded, forced to race against each other.

“Let’s go, then,” he says darkly.

And we do.

By the time I join Skye for our dog-sled excursion, my legs feel like they’re shaking with every step. The comfortable tiredness of a day of exercise, my skin tingly with the nip in the air.

Skye is bundled up in a giant puffy coat when I arrive. “They have puppies in the kennel,” she tells me in an aside. “Think we can visit them afterwards?”

“We absolutely should.” I wince as I climb into the sled. I’d fallen once, to my massive embarrassment, but Nick hadn’t commented on it—just offered me his hand to get up. I’d been banking too hard. A rookie mistake, really.

Beneath his ski mask, I hadn’t been able to see his eyes at all. But I’d raced him to the bottom not once, not twice, but three separate times, the last one on a black slope. He was a damn good skier,