it is to dive back into certain habits.”
He nods, sticks the cigar in his mouth, and lights it with a flame shooting from a silver brick in his hand. “I do. I also know I’ve been a judgmental beast, Ward. That’s why I thought you wouldn’t come.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
He stares past me, straight into the sunset. I hope the fiery glow parsed through those hell lenses isn’t baking his brain.
“I overreacted when Beatrice had her heart incident. I let—shall we say bad news from the past?—color the present. That was hardly fair.”
I’m silent. I know exactly what bad news he’s talking about when my parents gave the world nothing else.
“I realize now Brandt Ideas has always been a family business and it appears to be in good hands. I shouldn’t have been so quick to fret over all Brandts not named Beatrice. You’re nothing like your old man, considering you’re engaged to such a lovely creature, and very serious about showing the world your love. I’m sure your brother isn’t terrible either, despite his Epicurean proclivities.”
Nick’s not like Dad, but he’s not like me either. No point in dwelling on my brother’s embarrassments with bedding starlets and entertaining Brazilian businessmen who like to drink their weight in expensive booze.
“He’s a good man, even if it’s hard to believe he’s my little brother sometimes. When you grow up with infamous parents, you get used to gossip.”
“That’s unfair.” Winthrope coughs into his hand.
“So is life, or else my grandmother wouldn’t have wound up with heart surgery. It’s just made us work harder, Mr. Winthrope. We may be better off than we would be if we’d had a normal family.”
“That’s a good way to look at it, son.”
Progress. I’ve gone from an overprivileged frat boy in his eyes to “son.”
“I’ll cut to the chase,” he says abruptly, turning those red discs on me. “Do you have a contract on you? I’m ready to move forward.”
My heart drums against my ribs.
Damn it.
I don’t, and I don’t need this guy getting cold feet again. I never imagined he’d come around so fast.
“Sorry, I don’t.”
“No problem, just send it over and I’ll get it back to you promptly,” he says, blowing smoke out of his mouth.
“Thrilled to hear it, sir. You’ll love this hotel when it’s complete. I assure you, we’ll give every detail the respect it deserves. I’d stake the entire family name on—”
Winthrope cuts me off with this high-pitched laugh. “I like you. You’ve already sealed the deal and you’re still selling me.”
I snort. Have I, though?
This feels too easy. Or maybe I’m just used to unexpected black magic derailing good things at the last second.
We actually did it.
Ross Winthrope trusts Brandt Ideas with a billion-dollar contract.
Grandma’s dream just got the jolt of lightning it needs to live.
So why the hell does it feel like it’s happening too soon? We’re only a few weeks into this fake arrangement. We’ll have to play the contract out to keep up appearances, of course, but what if she’s less vested once she knows the contract is signed?
Winthrope’s still staring at me. I fidget with my rolled-up sleeves and give back my politest grin, then turn to the horizon with my retinas melting.
“That sunset. Man. Feels like the whole universe is celebrating this partnership,” I say.
Winthrope gives me a firm nod and holds his cigar up in a salute, which I mirror with the highball glass holding my mai tai.
I should be over the frigging moon, but it isn’t the money or the majesty of the hotel on my mind.
It’s her.
Why do I care what Paige Holly thinks?
Why do I feel like I’ve lost my shirt when I just hit the jackpot?
“Look at that skyline!” Paige says, letting out a low whistle.
We’re sitting on a chaise on the upper deck. She’s staring at Chicago just as the summer lights come on, a sight I’ve seen countless times.
I’m far more intrigued with the blond Persephone in front of me, forever enchanted by soft summer evenings and kissed by a lake breeze that makes me jealous. I loop an arm around her waist, not caring how possessive it seems.
I don’t even think about it anymore.
It’s just normal to have her delicate body in my grasp.
She relaxes her back into me. My body stiffens at her closeness, her heat, her promise of everything I desperately need.
“You’re tense. What’s wrong, Ward?” She leans her head back and smiles.
Everything.
Mainly, this urge to peel that corset off and