had no idea how Brig could miss how head over heels Nolan was for Astor. He walked beside her, carried whatever she bought, laughed with her, touched her whenever he had an opening, and was basically Prince Charming in the flesh. He could not have been any more obvious.
Chase was not much better.
It was more than clear, after only a handful of hours, that my first impression was right on the mark. The lawyer would have preferred to celebrate his promotion with Brig, alone. He was doing to Brig what Nolan was doing to Astor. Chase hung on every word that came out of Brig’s mouth, walked beside him, touched him constantly, took every opportunity to bump him, lean into him, laugh at his jokes, and made certain that when it was time to sit, he was the one in the seat beside Brig. The way Nolan and Chase jockeyed for position next to Astor and Brig, respectively, was really something. Conversely, watching Brig and Astor was also quite illuminating.
I had never seen a couple that touched less than the son of the CEO and the philanthropist. They smiled a lot, but that was about the extent of their interaction. Astor walked with Nolan, her arm wrapped around his, while Brig was animated and laughing with his friends. When everyone split up to walk through the shops inside of the Venetian, I shadowed Brig, but Astor and Nolan left, walking off in the opposite direction. Trey and Quentin, two more of Brig’s crew, who were out to rendezvous with some friends of Quentin’s, also peeled away from the rest of us. I kept quiet as I trailed after Brig, hanging back, pretending to browse, so I was always the last one into a store and the first one back out.
At an upscale boutique that sold high-end timepieces and fine jewelry, I stood beside a guy whose name was Aiden, if I recalled correctly, who was texting two different women on his phone—he had invited them both to meet him at the club later—and watching as Brig had Chase try on different watches to see which one looked best. He was springing for whichever one his friend decided on which was, to me, a lavish gift but par for the course for Brig Stanton. It was interesting; we were in a private viewing lounge with a salesman and two security guards.
“I like the silver Patek Philippe,” Todd chimed in.
“The Cartier is the only way to go,” Kent assured Chase. “Just get that one.”
They were talking about spending the same amount for a watch as they would for a compact car. I kept quiet, because I was out of their league, money-wise.
As the men debated, and Brig and Chase leaned over the counter where their choices were spread out on a black velvet display cloth, I kept my eye on the doorway in case anyone tried to step inside.
“What kind of watch do you have, Croy?” Aiden asked me.
I moved back the cuff of my shirt so he could see the stainless-steel Apple iWatch on my left wrist, with the leather strap. Aidan’s groan was loud and pained.
“What?”
“Really?”
“My watch will tell you the circumference of Neptune,” I boasted to him. “What can yours do other than tell time?”
“It’s an investment, you peasant.”
I grunted.
Apparently, I had no idea about real luxury, based on their comments, but I pointed out that my watch had just informed me I’d walked off the Eggs Benedict I’d eaten several hours before. It was the Hermès edition, with the black Double Tour band, and I loved it the moment I put it on.
Brig chuckled, patting my back. “There’s something to be said for function and form.”
“I can answer a text too,” I pointed out, lifting an eyebrow for emphasis.
“Yes, you can,” he said, smiling at me, sliding an arm around my shoulders as he turned his attention to Chase. “Pick a watch, buddy. I want a drink.”
Clearly, everyone did.
The Patek Philippe was stunning, and the blue opaline face and white-gold case—there were more descriptors that the salesperson rattled off—was impressive. Well, impressive if that was the kind of thing that did, in fact, impress you. And I had no issue if it did. But I had never been the kind of person that things meant anything to. It was one of the many facets of my personality that used to infuriate my father: that I didn’t appreciate the finer things in life. I got it, of course, I