Chapter 19
ALEXA
“Sit.”
Juno sat, and I gave her a dog cookie.
“Okay, now go away.”
She didn’t move.
“I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
She just stared at me.
“Okay, fine. One more, but then you have to get lost. Go follow Nolan around or something.”
The back door opened, and my favourite victim walked in wearing a pale pink pantsuit and a frown that would lead her down the slippery slope to Botox if she wasn’t careful.
“I thought you’d left,” Marielle said.
“Clearly not.”
“Well, I wouldn’t get too comfortable. And I’d stay away from that dog if I were you—she isn’t friendly.”
Juno curled her lip and gave a soft growl when Marielle took a step toward us, and perhaps she was smart after all?
“Nolan isn’t here.”
“I know. He’s over in the winery.”
“Then why are you here? Don’t you have work to do?”
“Yes, unlike some people.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that sooner or later, Nolan’s going to get sick of you sponging off him.”
“Sponging? I do have a job.”
“Not a real one. You just sit in front of that screen all day while your ‘friend’ goes jogging. It’s harvest time—if you wanted to do something constructive, you’d be out there picking grapes.”
As opposed to overseeing technological strategy at a multibillion-dollar corporation, providing cyber support to the Choir, and assisting the FBI with the occasional investigation? Oh, and baiting scammers, which was more of a hobby but worthwhile nonetheless.
“I might break a nail.”
“It’s a shame you don’t bite that tongue of yours.”
“I was sitting in here minding my own business. You’re the one who came in and started talking.”
“You really are a despicable brat.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be curating towels or whatever?”
Juno growled again as Marielle turned on her heel and disappeared up the stairs, presumably to carry on not fixing the bathroom she’d left in a mess.
“Yeah, I agree,” I said to the dog. “You want another cookie? We’ll get rid of her, don’t worry.”
I didn’t need another lecture on legitimate targets from Barbie, but at the same time, it was obvious Marielle was dragging the project out, and at this rate, it would never be finished.
Nolan deserved a shower that worked. The problem?
So far, I hadn’t managed to dig up any dirt other than her obvious personality flaws.
Surprisingly, the woman kept a low profile on the internet, almost as if she’d scrubbed it clean.
Which she might well have done after the breakup with her fiancé.
In truth, I could understand that part—the need to run and hide after a rejection.
But I wasn’t a narcissist. Whenever I had to make an important decision, I thought, What would Mom do?
and then made sure I did the opposite. Plus I’d asked one of the guys I occasionally worked with at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit for his opinion on my personality traits, and he’d laughed and said I just had a few sociopathic tendencies, is all.
And was that really so bad? Demelza—Priest’s boss—saw it as an advantage. I knew she did because I’d snooped through their emails when I was bored.
Anyhow, I needed to lose Marielle. Nolan thought she was good at her job, but she was barely mediocre, much like my mother had been.
Mom got away with it because she was good at laying on the superficial charm.
A trait Marielle shared, and she also had no real competition out here, so doing things half-assed worked out okay for her.
How had she scored a job at a big New York design company? That was the real mystery.
I scrolled through my contacts and dialled André. His name was actually Andrew, but he said that didn’t fit the vibe, so he’d tweaked it when he began studying in the Architecture and Interior Design program at the University of Coastal California.
“I need a favour.”
“Alexa, darling! How are things going?”
“I’m having a problem with an interior designer.”
“Another one?”
“Yes, but I’m not related to the headache this time, so that’s something, I guess.”
“Do I know them?”
“Probably not. Her name is Marielle Marten, and she used to work at Ivory and Ink in New York. Do you have friends there?”
“I have friends everywhere. Not specifically at Ivory and Ink, but it’s a big agency, and somebody will know somebody. What do you need?”
“Dirt. She’s the type of woman to have skeletons lurking in her closet, but they’re not online. Could you ask around?”
“My dear, if there’s even a speck of dust, we’ll find it. When are you coming for dinner? Soren keeps asking.”
“Soon, I hope. I’m stuck in wine country at the moment.”
“There could be worse places,” André said cheerfully.
“I’ll send you a bottle.”
“Come and drink it with us.”
“Or maybe you could come here? If the dirt thing goes well, I might need assistance with a project.”
“A working vacay? I’m tied up for a few weeks, but we’ll make it happen, my sweet.”
“Speak soon, okay?”
“Give my love to Chase. Ciao, darling.”
See? I wasn’t a complete sociopath. I had friends.
But did I feel guilty for fucking with Marielle?
Not even a little bit.
* * *
“Chase has gone to pick up dinner. Hardly anywhere delivers around here.”
After meandering around the estate, I’d finally found Nolan cleaning the chicken shed. Since I liked live chickens about as much as I liked dogs, I figured I’d stay well back, but Nolan was slick with sweat, and his T-shirt clung to his abs in all the right places.
One step forward wouldn’t hurt. How fast could a chicken even run?
“I’m nearly done here,” he said.
“Do they always scratch the dirt like that?”
“Yup.”
“You know you could just buy eggs in the grocery store, right?”
“These taste better, and wouldn’t you rather have an egg that’s travelled fifty yards instead of fifty miles?”
“I’d rather have an egg that means I don’t have to clean up chicken poop at six o’clock in the evening.”
“I’ll make you an omelette for breakfast tomorrow, and you’ll change your mind.”
Hmm, I wasn’t convinced, but I did like the idea of Nolan making me breakfast. Kind of like the old days, but both our lives had changed so much since then.
In Blackstone House, my wishes had been simple—stay the hell away from my family, make enough money to live, and eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner with Nolan de Luca.
My world was very different now, but I realised my old hopes and dreams hadn’t changed, merely evolved.
Especially when Nolan peeled off his shirt on the walk back to the house.
Years ago, I’d kissed him out of desperation, fearful of being dragged back to California against my will and never seeing him again. I’d had no real plan. I just needed an outlet for a mess of feelings I didn’t understand.
Now?
My feelings were still a mess.
I’d made a new life for myself, a successful one, and that life wasn’t on a glorified farm in California. I hated the great outdoors. I hated staying in one place for more than a couple of weeks.
But I still liked eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner with Nolan de Luca.
And tomorrow would be my last breakfast with him for a while.
“I have to get up early in the morning.” I pulled a face. “Meetings.”
“The life of a jet-setting businesswoman, eh? Then I guess I’ll be getting up early too.” His phone rang, and he slid it out of his pocket. “Hey, Antonella.” A pause. “What barrel racing contest?” … “Next Saturday? No, she didn’t mention it, but for sure Dionysus will sponsor a class.”
She? Marielle? Barrel racing was a cowboy thing, wasn’t it? She’d look great in chaps. Maybe one of those jackets with the fringe…
“I’m not coming with her, but I’ll swing by if I have the time,” Nolan said.
“No, we didn’t break up because we were never together.
I’m actually seeing someone else, but she’s out of town next week.
” Nolan carried on walking as I stopped dead.
“Yeah, for sure, we’ll come over for dinner when she’s back in town. ”
Only after he’d hung up did he realise I wasn’t with him.
“Alexa?”
“Were you…?” I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Were you talking about me?”
“Well, I’m not seeing anyone else.” He closed the distance between us. “Shit. You wanted to keep it quiet?”
“I don’t know.” I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “We had one sort-of date—”
“It was a date,” Nolan said firmly.
“And I don’t even live in California.”
“Phones, email, and airplanes exist. We’ll make it work.”
“Dinner with strangers is my worst nightmare.”
“Then I’ll come up with a reason not to go. I just didn’t want Marielle concocting some bullshit about me not being able to come on Saturday and have everyone keep thinking we’re an item. Now that Antonella knows the truth, she’ll make sure everyone else does too.”
“I…”
“Are you out of excuses yet?”
I bit my bottom lip so hard that I tasted the coppery tang of blood. “I don’t…I don’t know how to date.”
Of course, I’d studied others. In Blackstone House, Ruby had hooked up with a series of seemingly interchangeable men for the first few months I’d lived there, Justin had spent a lot of time assuring Eliza that she wasn’t being neurotic—she absolutely was—and Brax was Carissa’s walking wallet.
Moving on, Dawson followed Violet around like a loyal puppy, Ari often had weird bruises that Jez said came from Zach but in a good way, Brax and Indi started out by using bickering as a bizarre form of foreplay, and Jez herself was on a mission to wear out Cole’s dick.
Only Erin and Rusty’s relationship seemed tolerable, but Rusty was way more easygoing than Nolan.
“We can just work things out as we go along,” Nolan said, stopping at an outdoor spigot to wash his hands. “I need to punch down the wine before dinner.”
“No, I don’t like that idea.”
“You want me to submit a twelve-point plan?”
“You think twelve is enough? I have a fifteen-part list to pack my carry-on.”
Rather than answering, Nolan picked me up with wet hands, pressed his lips to mine, and set me down again, leaving me gasping.
“Consider that point one.”
My pulse pounded in my ears. “Hey!”
“Go on,” he said, his voice lower than usual. Silkier. “Give me a tongue-lashing.”
For the first time I could remember, I was speechless. This was another side of Nolan I hadn’t seen before, and it made me hella nervous.
Slightly sweaty.
Definitely buzzed.
In Astela’s second year, when we were expanding faster than I’d ever imagined, Jay convinced me to change our newly appointed, very married, very boring CFO’s email signature as an April Fool’s prank.
It was only after the guy sent out a company-wide invoicing reminder as “George Milton, Gentleman in the Streets, Freak in the Sheets” that HR called, and I realised it wasn’t just an Excel-related joke.
Now, I began to wonder whether Nolan was the freak.
And as the heat that flashed through me turned to butterflies, whether it would be so bad if he were?
“What happened to being a gentleman?” I asked.
“Everyone deserves a day off.” His smile dropped. “I promise I won’t do it again. We can make the plan together over breakfast, but I’m telling you now, there are more than fifteen things I want to do with you.”
Huh. “When you say ‘things’…?”
“In the morning.”
Nolan headed toward the barn, and I hurried after him. “But…but…”
“But you’re impatient?”
“No.”
“What did we say about honesty?”
Sometimes, Nolan was a pain in the ass. Which, coincidentally, was what I’d changed Jay’s email signature to after the “sheets” incident.
“Fine. Yes, I’m impatient.”
“And you’re also irked because you aren’t in complete control?”
“Did you secretly go to college? Get a minor in psychology and a major in being annoying?”
“I’ve just spent enough time with you to see the real Alexa. The one you keep hidden under three layers of porcupine and an armadillo shell.”
“I am not a porcupine.”
He ignored that, but his voice softened. “Someday, you’ll let down your defences.”
“But—”
Nolan held out a hand, and I hesitated for a moment before I took it.
“You will.”
You know what? Maybe I would.