39. Nora
CHAPTER 39
NORA
West’s plane is waiting for us on the tarmac when we arrive. Attentive staff welcome us when we climb onboard. I’m already in a pair of sweats and ready to curl up in a seat in the corner. Despite the warm spring air, I’m wearing a sweater with a high cowl neck.
West noticed it and smiled. I narrowed my eyes at him. A hickey? That was all his doing.
The plane is beautiful inside. The details, the colors, it’s all familiar. It takes me a while to clock why. It’s the same color scheme as Fairhaven. Dark wood, light blue details and plush beige. The back of each seat is an emblazoned C , complete with the curved embellishments I’ve seen so many times on the wrought-iron gates.
I wait until we’ve taken off before I mention it, running my finger along the wood of the table. “This plane looks like Fairhaven.”
“I had it designed that way.” West’s voice is low, his hand around a glass of scotch.
“James built it?”
“He did. Same as ours.” Rafe rolls his neck, his legs stretched out into the aisle. He says it so easily. Ours. But he’s in charge of where the Montclair plane goes and when. Has been for years. Dad never looped either of us into the important decisions, and then he passed unexpectedly, and now… Rafe has continued the practice.
When my brother leaves to go chat with the pilots, I watch his retreating back. As soon as he’s gone, I lean toward West.
He’s already looking at me.
“West!” I put my hand against my neck, covered by the fabric. “Why did you do that?”
“I didn’t mark you on purpose.” He reaches over, and I hold still as he folds down the fabric. His eyes are focused on the bruise. “I was a little… distracted.”
“I can’t wear a turtleneck on the beach.” The rough pad of his finger strokes along my neck. “But I brought makeup.”
“Smart.” His thumb strokes my skin one more time before he lets the fabric slide back up. “I should say I’m sorry. I should be sorry.”
“You’re not?”
“No. I like my mark on you.” He leans back in his chair. The distracted air he had earlier, when he chatted with my brother, is gone. His full focus is on me now.
“Asshole,” I half-whisper. Rafe is still gone, so I lean forward again. “You know what? I’ve been thinking of something to ask you.”
“What’s that?”
“Your first time,” I say. “Was it with someone special? Were you in love?”
His hand stills over the armrest. He doesn’t glance behind him, but I can tell he wants to. “Nora…”
“Considering it’s so important for me, I mean. That must mean that you had a good experience too?”
“I know what you’re getting at,” he says, “and you’re doing a great job at practice arguing, but this is not the best time for it.”
“I’m not arguing. Just asked you a simple question.”
“It was fine,” he says, “but I wasn’t in love and neither was she.”
“Different rules for you and different rules for me?”
His jaw works. “ Yes. And that doesn’t mean I don’t?—”
The curtain parts and Rafe walks out with a bottle. “Look at this!” he says to me. He holds up the bottle. “Found West’s supply. He stocks the 2006 vintage.”
It’s produced by one of the champagne companies Maison Valmont owns.
“Of course I do,” West says. He looks the picture of ease again. Long legs stretched out, face blank. “Because I know how much you prefer the 2005.”
Rafe chuckles. “So it’s just to piss me off, is it?”
“Everything in my life is designed to piss you off,” West says smoothly.
Rafe grins at me. “Should we show him how a European drinks?”
“You’re both just as American as you are Swiss or French,” West says. “And I’ll win.”
“This is how the entire trip will be, isn’t it?” I ask. “You two are bad enough, but add in James and, god, Alex…”
Rafe grins. “If you want to stay by the pool for the whole trip, I’ll understand.”
I accept the glass he hands me. “Maybe I’ll join in.”
* * *
The villa overlooks the ocean.
It’s giant and bright, and it’s equipped with staff that are waiting for us on arrival. The villa manager shows us around, and I get a room on the second floor with bright white linens and French doors that open up to a balcony and the ocean. It’s breathtaking. Surrounded by the greenery and the sun, I breathe deeply.
There is no way the stalker followed me here.
For a few days, at least, he isn’t completely aware of my movements.
Alex is already there. He’s sitting out on the patio, and I grin when I see him.
“Alex!”
He lifts me up and spins me around. “Little Montclair!”
“You’ve been drinking,” I say with a laugh, my hands braced against his shoulders.
“Yes,” he says. “It’s a lost weekend. It’s a rule.” He sets me down, still smiling widely. Under the bright sun, his auburn hair looks more reddish than brown, and his Scottish accent makes me smile.
I’ve always liked Alex.
“This is the first time we’ve had family members along on one of these trips,” he says, and hands me a glass. “Your view of Rafe is going to change drastically over the next few days. I can’t wait.”
“Don’t give her any ideas!” Rafe calls from inside the house.
I laugh and look from Alex over to where West is standing. He’s watching us, arms crossed over his chest. “I know I’m crashing your trip, but I’m excited.”
“Good.” He lets go of me and reaches for the bottle of whiskey he’s nursing. “We’re doing adventure poker this trip. I have it all set up.”
“Adventure poker?”
Rafe walks out behind me, holding a large bottle of water. “She’s not playing,” he says.
“That’s for Nora to decide, don’t you think?” West says.
I give my brother a triumphant expression.
He sighs. “You came here to be safe, not do whatever idiotic thing Alex has planned for us to risk our lives this time.”
“I’m right here,” Alex says. “And also, thank you. I aimed for spectacularly idiotic this time.”
West runs a hand along his jaw. “What are we playing for this time?”
“Rights to decide on the locations for next year’s trips.”
He whistles. “Damn. There’s no way James will agree to that.”
Alex waves a hand. “He never agrees to anything these days.”
“Well, with that as the prize, I want to win.” I look from Rafe to West with a smile. “Are you ready to go to Siberia four times in a row?”
“You’re not playing,” Rafe says again.
I narrow my eyes at him. My brother loves to flex his muscles, but over the years, it’s become almost second nature. When his tone doesn’t vary regardless of whether he’s talking to me or one of his employees. To our mom, younger siblings or to his assistant.
I jump off the edge of the table. “You’re that scared of losing?” I ask him.
It’s false bravado.
But Rafe turns to look at me, mild surprise in his eyes. “You don’t know what the game is.”
“I’m not sitting in the house the whole time we’re here,” I say. “I’ve had enough of doing that for a lifetime.” I look over at West and find him looking steadily at me.
There’s a burn of something in his eyes. A look I’ve come to crave. That’s my girl, I hear.
“What is adventure poker?” I ask.
“Something we came up with over a decade ago,” West says. “It’s ill-advised, reckless, and, at times, illegal. Over the course of the days, we have to do things to earn chips. On the final night, we play poker with the chips we’ve earned.”
“We’ve done some stupid shite,” Alex agrees. “Remember when you bungee-jumped naked, Rafe?”
My brother puts a hand over his face with a groan.
I just stare at him. “You did what?”
“Thanks for sharing that with the group,” Rafe mutters. “Yes. Thank god there are no photos.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say there aren’t,” Alex says in a drawling, accented voice. “Maybe I have a safe somewhere, just ready to?—”
“I’d kill you,” Rafe says.
“You’re welcome to try.”
“What kind of challenges are on the table for this trip?” I ask.
“Oh, nothing too wild,” Alex says. “Just zip-lining, diving, racing horses on the beach. White water rafting. The usual.”
I look from Alex to Rafe, and from Rafe to West. “I’m in.”