Chapter 1
Chapter One
Juliet
Be at the airport no later than 10 pm. Your plane will be waiting for you. Takeoff is 10:30 sharp. Do not be late.
Rolling my eyes at my stepbrother’s bossy message, I shove my phone back into my pocket and return to my packing. I’ve managed to squeeze what I need into two suitcases and a duffel bag, which meets my definition for “packing light” though I doubt it will meet Jasper’s. But whatever. It’s not like he won’t have the room. I haven’t seen his house yet, but no Blackwood would ever be caught dead in anything less than ten thousand square feet.
It takes me another hour—and a second, smaller duffel for my makeup—to pack everything I’ll need for my “vacation” at my brother’s house. My lawyer would say it’s technically called “fleeing the country”, but I just need a little bit of space from my overbearing stepfather and my weak-willed mother. Maybe once they realize I’m gone they’ll understand what a horrible mistake they made, cutting me off the way they did.
A quick glance at my phone tells me I’m already running late for the plane, which means I need to get a move on. Not because I care about being late, but because my parents will be home by ten. And my whole plan will be ruined if they catch me leaving.
I snag one of our staff to carry my bags downstairs for me. The car I called is already waiting for me outside, and Benedict helps the driver load everything into the trunk.
“Where should I tell your parents you’ve gone, Miss?” Benedict asks, his gloved hands folded neatly behind his back and a carefully blank expression on his face.
“Nowhere.” Pulling a crisp hundred-dollar bill—recently “relieved” from the safe in my parents’ bedroom—from my purse, I slip it into the breast pocket of his suit with a wink. “You never even saw me tonight.”
A ghost of a smile flits across Benedict’s face. “Very well. Safe travels, Miss Juliet.”
“Thanks, Benny.”
I step around him and duck into the car, excitement beating at my breast as the driver closes the door behind me. This is almost as thrilling as the time I borrowed that emerald necklace from old Mrs. Winters and then wore it to her Christmas party less than a week later. Poor old bat had no idea, and I got compliments on it all night long.
Man, was I devastated when the cops confiscated that particular item.
Oh, well. I’m sure I can find something to occupy my time on my brother’s island. Maybe not stealing, since that’s what got me into this mess in the first place. But it is a tropical paradise, after all, so there must be something fun to do there.
I spend the drive to the airport scrolling my various social media accounts, deliberately not liking or commenting on anything. I haven’t been active online in over twenty-four hours, and the only activity on my phone is the call I made to my brother earlier today.
Let the police and the media make of that what they will.
I do feel a small twinge of guilt as I pause on a picture of some of my closest friends partying it up on a yacht. Nobody knows of my plans, and they’re sure to be devastated when news of my disappearance hits the media. But telling them would ruin the whole plan, so I ignore the ache just below my heart and swipe away from their picture.
The car stops and I grin at the sight of the massive personal jet waiting for us on the tarmac. Jasper’s plane is even larger than his father’s, and I take personal satisfaction from the knowledge that it must piss Arthur Blackwood off to no end to be so overshadowed by his own son.
When the door opens, I climb out of the car and head straight for the plane, trusting the driver will follow shortly with my bags. A pretty blonde flight attendant greets me at the bottom of the stairs. “Miss Blackwood. We’ve been waiting for you.”
There is a hint of rebuke in her words, but I brush over it with a smile. “Well, I’m here now so all’s well that ends well, I suppose. I’ll need a bottle of champagne for the flight. I assume my brother keeps his plane well stocked?”
“You’ll be well taken care of Miss Blackwood, I assure you.” Something glitters in her eyes, and I have the uncomfortable feeling I’m on the wrong end of some practical joke.
Shaking off the sensation, I step up onto the stairs. “Champagne, perhaps some chocolates as well,” I tell the flight attendant over my shoulder as we climb.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” The deep, familiar voice stops me in my tracks as I step into the plane. “Chocolates are only for good girls, Juliet. And you have been very, very naughty.”
Jasper
Making the six-hour-round-trip flight to retrieve my sister required quite a bit of shuffling in my schedule. But it’s all worth it for the look of pure shock on her face when she sees me. Pale blue eyes round in a face that would have made Boticelli weep, her blonde ponytail swings wildly as her head snaps back as though she’s been physically struck.
“ Jasper ? What the fuck are you doing here?”
My palm literally itches to connect with her ass, to teach her the manners she’s sorely lacking, but I restrain myself. For the moment, at least. “I came to escort you to the island. Little girls shouldn’t travel alone.”
Lip pulled up in a sneer, she rolls her eyes. “I am not a child, Jasper. And what the hell do you think is going to happen to me on your jet?”
Oh, sweet sister. You have no idea what’s about to happen to you. “Sit. We’re already behind schedule and I’d like for us to get in the air as soon as possible.”
“Fine, fine.” Waving a dismissive hand, she drops into the seat directly across from me, crossing her shapely legs, left bare by the cutoff denim shorts that no doubt cost more than most people make in a month. She looks around, her gaze zeroing in on Kerry, the flight attendant standing just off to the side awaiting my orders and snaps her fingers. “You. Hello? Where’s my champagne?”
Kerry looks to me, clearly waiting to see if I will approve this request. “A bottle of water for each of us, please, Kerry. Thank you.”
“Um, no.” Annoyance flashes in Juliet’s bright baby blues. “I don’t want water. I want champagne.”
“And I said ‘no’, little girl. Put your seatbelt on. We’re about to take off.” And I would much rather have this discussion with her in the air, where she can’t suddenly change her mind and go running back to her mother.
Yanking at the seatbelt with an annoyed huff, Juliet shoves the silver buckle into place just as Kerry returns with our waters. “I don’t want water. I want champagne.”
“Take the water, Juliet.” I put a bit of steel into my tone, enough to let her know it isn’t a request, and Juliet takes the bottle from Kerry’s hand with a roll of her eyes.
“I hope you don’t think you’re going to be bossing me around like this on the island. We’re going to have to lay some ground rules.”
The plane rumbles beneath us and I smile, letting just a hint of teeth show. It’s a gesture that’s been known to make grown men piss themselves, but Juliet remains unaffected.
Because she doesn’t know just how afraid she should be.
Yet.
“You’re absolutely right,” I concede, letting my smile widen as I twist the top off my own water bottle. I have a feeling I’m going to need to stay hydrated to properly deal with my bratty little stepsister. “So. Let’s talk rules, shall we?”
Settling back against her seat with a smug smile, Juliet lifts a hand and holds up a finger. “One, no telling me what to do.” She lifts a second finger. “Two, no telling mom and Arthur where I am. Three, I have some money, but I’ll need an allowance of some kind while I’m on the island. Four, I have a list of foods you’ll need to stock your kitchen with. Most probably won’t be found on the island, so you’ll have to figure out how to have them imported. And five…” With all five fingers held up now, she scrunches her nose, her head tilted slightly to the side as if she’s thinking hard about this next rule. “Oh, yes. Drop that ‘little girl’ shit. I don’t like it.”
It’s been a long time since anyone dared to give me orders, and yet my stepsister does so with the arrogance of someone who is used to having people obey her every word. Excitement hums through my veins at the prospect of being the one to finally put her in her place.
“Are you finished?” I ask, keeping my voice as bored sounding as possible despite feeling like a child on Christmas morning.
“For now.” Tilting her chin, she literally looks down her nose at me. “I reserve the right to add to that list as we go.”
“Good. Now we can discuss my rules for you, little girl.”
Temper flashes in her eyes as she now bares her teeth in what I have to admit is an impressive snarl. “I just told you not to call me that, asshole.”
“Rule number one,” I say, ignoring her outburst for the time being. “I will absolutely be telling you what to do. And you will listen, or you will be punished.”
“Punished?” Her voice rises to an indignant shriek. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Rule number two. You do not leave my house without my permission, nor do you leave without an adult escorting you.”
“If you think for one second?—”
“Rule number three.” I raise my voice, rolling over her protests without pause. “You will keep a civil tongue in your mouth. That means no more swearing, no calling people names, and certainly no lying.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Arms crossed, she slumps in her seat, her furious glare pinned on me. “I am not following any of these ridiculous rules.”
“Rule number four. No stealing. Or any other lawbreaking. And, finally, the most important rule of all.”
“What’s that?”
This is my favorite rule, and the one I’m most looking forward to enforcing. “From now on, I am not Jasper to you. From this point forward, you will only address me as Daddy.”