Chapter 2
ELIZA
I’d never been to Chicago before, but so far, it wasn’t at all what I’d expected. Though to be fair, I wasn’t entirely sure what I had expected.
More noise perhaps. Certainly for the streets to be dirtier.
Instead, the city glittered under the late August sunshine, all sharp edges, shining glass, and wide, clean streets. From the window of the massive suite the Westwoods had rented for us in a luxury hotel overlooking Lake Michigan, the water looked more like the ocean than a lake.
It went on forever, bright and impossibly blue under a sky so clear, it almost didn’t even look real. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, just endlessly gorgeous sunshine stretching for miles overhead.
It was so unlike the weather at the estate, where the air always seemed thick with mist and rain. I wasn’t missing the gloom. It was nice to have a break.
Even if this was a forced one.
Winnie spun in a slow circle in the middle of the foyer, her dress flaring out around her as she held her phone at arm’s length. Her camera, as always, was on and focused on her. “Just take a look at this. It’s literally insane. Like, who lives like this?”
She said it to the invisible audience on the other end of the screen, pivoting to capture the marble floors, sweeping windows, and carefully arranged flowers that probably had cost more than my monthly operating budget for the west gardens.
Being forced to travel to Chicago after Father had returned from a charity ball acting like the world would end if I didn’t come hadn’t exactly been ideal, especially since I was here as Winnie’s glorified babysitter.
But I had to admit, it wasn’t unpleasant.
Quiet in its own way. Very different to back home.
I clasped my hands together loosely and watched her spin.
“I swear,” she said to her followers. “This suite is bigger than our house.”
Okay, now that was objectively untrue, but accuracy had never been a priority in Winnie’s line of work. She pivoted again, angling the phone toward herself now.
“I’m here with my family for, like, this super old-school business thing, which is honestly so random, but whatever—”
And I’ve heard quite enough.
I slipped away while she kept talking. If I stayed, she’d rope me into it eventually. She always did. I would appear in the background like set dressing, and suddenly, there would be comments about everything from my clothes to my hair, and speculation about whether I was the normal one.
Honestly. Like being the normal one was an insult. To her legion of loyal followers, it was probably the ultimate insult, but I quietly took pride in being normal.
Retreating into one of the bedrooms, I shut the door softly behind me, immediately appreciating the blissful silence. While I hadn’t come here by choice, I was ready for a break.
Whatever that ended up looking like.
Even if it was just a few days where no one needed anything from me. No tour groups to schedule. No last-minute filming requests to accommodate.
Just some space and some time exploring an American city. I was reaching for my suitcase, intending to change into something less travel-wrinkled when a buzzing sound cut through the quiet. It was followed rapidly by a knock at the door.
Of course.
I closed my eyes briefly before turning around and heading back to the foyer. By the time I stepped out of my room, Father was already answering the door, his posture straight and his voice formal. He only spoke that way when he was speaking to someone he considered important.
“Yes?” he said, eyeing the man waiting in the hall. A driver, by the looks of his cap and suit. “Are you Steven?”
“Yes, sir,” the man said politely. “Mr. Westwood sent me to bring you to the house whenever you’re ready.”
Father nodded briskly, not even bothering to glance at either Winnie or myself before he responded. “Yes, thank you. We’re ready.”
We absolutely were not ready. My travel clothes were awfully wrinkled, and Winnie probably hadn’t even realized yet that the same thing was true for her. She was still in the middle of her live stream.
“And the lighting in here is actually insane,” she was saying. “Like, this is perfect for content—”
“Winnifred,” Father said sharply.
She froze mid-spin, snapping at him without even looking in his direction. “I’m working.”
Working. I wasn’t sure I’d call it that. Her line of work was being an influencer and a reality television personality. Evidently, it required constant attention. Constant updates. Constant visibility.
After last year’s spectacularly drama-filled season of the show she’d starred in, one that had made her popular for all the wrong reasons, she’d doubled down on maintaining relevance. I’d come to learn that meant documenting nearly every waking moment.
Our father, however, wasn’t having it. “We’re leaving.”
She groaned loudly. “Are you serious? I just started.”
The driver stood patiently in the doorway while Winnie argued, Father insisted, and I hovered uselessly in the middle, as always.
Eventually, after much coaxing and at least one small but dramatic fit about being interrupted, Winnie ended the stream and allowed herself to be ushered out into the hall.
Once we were in the car, Father ignored us completely. Winnie slumped dramatically against the window, lamenting as if she thought that would change his mind. “I should be in Dubai with Mum and Eugenie.”
I kept my eyes on the passing streets, unable to see enough of this unexpectedly beautiful city. Meanwhile, I doubted Winnie was seeing a single thing.
“I can’t believe how much I’m missing for this,” she said mournfully. “I have meetings when I get back and I need to be in London soon for the next season.”
The next season of the same show that had nearly ruined her reputation the first time, yet she was absolutely serious about returning to it. As she continued her lamentations, I eventually let her voice fade into the background, wondering if I was ever going to get that break I’d been promised.
Just a moment of quiet. A few days where I wasn’t managing someone, smoothing something over, or fixing a plan that had gone wrong.
Finally, the car slowed, then turned. We’d arrived at Westwood manor and I found myself staring suddenly, surprised that such a stately home had been tucked into the city like it had simply decided to be there and the rest of world had been built around it.
Regal in its own way, it was elegant and polished. Old but without the historic air of our estate. There wasn’t much of a garden at all. At least, not compared to back home.
The driver brought us directly to the steps leading to the front door and I took note of the symmetry of it all as we parked.
The stonework, the windows, and the columns.
Winnie and Father swept past me without even noticing the house at all, disappearing into its depths long before I’d even reached the steps.
The front door swung shut just as I reached it, closing right in my face. I stopped abruptly, then sighed, but I was used to this feeling. Generally overlooked and not as pretty as Eugenie or as social as Winnie, I was just in the middle.
The quiet, busy one people only thought of when they needed something done. Letting this latest incident roll off me like water from a duck, I was reaching for the doorknob when footsteps behind me made me jump.
I turned with my hand still hovering in the air, finding myself face to face with someone I recognized immediately, even if it had been years since I’d last seen him. Jesse Westwood.
At least, I thought it was Jesse, but I never had been able to tell him apart from Will, his twin. Even so, my heart gave the slightest, traitorous little flutter and my palms suddenly got a bit sweaty.
In the years since he’d dated Eugenie, Jesse had somehow, impossibly, become even more handsome. Those sparkling, brilliant blue eyes were just as gorgeous as ever, but they also seemed different now, as if maturity since college had made him just a touch more serious.
That dark chocolate brown hair no longer hung in a sweeping lock across his forehead, instead styled back out of his face to accentuate his sharp jawline. He was clean shaven now too, no longer sporting that bit of five o’clock shadow.
All of which made him much more attractive, as far as I was concerned. He reached past me before my brain had managed to formulate a single thing to say to him, and he opened the door and held it wide.
“I saw what happened,” he said, sweeping a hand out ahead of him. “That was incredibly rude.”
His voice was warm, easy, and faintly amused, like this sort of thing happened all the time and he’d simply decided to intervene because it had happened to me this time. He offered me a lazy, rakish smirk that made my pulse trip.
“To be fair,” he added. “You’ll have to excuse my brother. Alex has got a lot on his mind.”
Alex? Which one is that, then, and why are we talking about him?
Although I wasn’t really talking at all. For a moment, “probably-Jesse” and I just stood there, looking at each other, neither of us saying a word.
I remembered when he’d come to visit the estate all those years ago.
He’d arrived in a blur of laughter, noise, and mischief, trailing after Eugenie like a co-conspirator.
He’d always been handsome, of course. Eugenie wouldn’t have tolerated anything less.
But there had been something sharp and restless about him then.
Something sly and boisterous that had matched her energy in a way that had made the two of them together feel vaguely dangerous.
I was struck again by how different he seemed now, quieter and perhaps like those jagged edges had softened into something smoother.
He also didn’t seem to have a clue who I was. His expression was polite and open, yet entirely devoid of recognition, but that was alright. No one ever really remembered me.
“Thank you,” I said, finally finding my voice and stepping past him into the house.
I was stunned once again, this time by the beauty of the interior. It was much larger than I’d realized from the outside and grand, but in a way that felt lived-in rather than preserved.
The same couldn’t be said for our estate. Jesse appeared by my side, smiling as he motioned for me to join him. “Let’s go find them, huh?”
I nodded lamely, butterflies suddenly fluttering in my stomach when I caught a whiff of a woodsy, masculine scent on my next inhale. Bloody hell, this man smells good.
Despite my errant thoughts, I managed to follow him without tripping over my own feet, eventually finding myself in a hallway that opened up into a wide, fancy sitting room.
Father and Winnie were already seated with two men I assumed must be Douglas Westwood and Alex, the brother Jesse had mentioned, and the eldest of this Westwood brood.
Alex stood as we entered, his attention shifting immediately toward Jesse. “There you are, Jess. I need—”
He stopped short, studying him for half a second like something wasn’t quite lining up, then continued anyway. “Actually, never mind. We’ll handle it.”
Jesse—if it was Jesse—looked faintly confused for just a moment, like he’d been caught off-guard or mid-thought, but the expression passed so quickly, I thought I might’ve imagined it. This happened sometimes, I supposed.
Identical twins must live in a constant state of mistaken identity. Douglas Westwood rose more slowly, his presence filling the room, and there was absolutely no hesitation in him when he turned toward his younger son.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” he announced. “In the meantime, Jesse, why don’t you give the ladies a tour of the house?”
Father nodded approvingly, as though tours of other people’s homes were a perfectly ordinary activity. Douglas, however, was already turning away now that he’d issued his orders. “Alex, walk with us.”
As easy as that, the three men, Father, Douglas, and Alex, disappeared toward what I assumed must be Douglas’s office, leaving us alone with Jesse.
He looked mildly perplexed again, but it seemed he was just as adept as I was at shaking things off because the very next moment, he was already sweeping his hand out ahead of him again.
“Alright, shall we?” he asked, glancing between Winnie and me.
My sister groaned immediately. “If this is boring, I’m leaving.”
“It’s a tour, not a hostage situation,” he said. “You’re free to leave at any time.”
To my surprise, Winnie laughed, but I quickly learned that he was effortlessly charming, guiding us from room to room with natural ease.
He pointed out details I might’ve missed otherwise, mentioned small bits of history, and elaborated upon certain design choices and who they’d been made by, giving a more personal impression of the house as a whole.
I also noticed that he stayed close to me, but not obviously so. Just near enough that when Winnie wandered ahead or lagged behind, he seemed to fall into step beside me without even thinking about it.
“This place is incredible,” I said as we passed through a long hallway. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
“It has its moments,” he said. “It’s less impressive in winter when the heating bill arrives, though.”
I giggled, immediately feeling silly for it, but I hadn’t been able to help myself. He was funny in a dry and understated way, like he didn’t quite mean to be amusing but it happened anyway.
For a little while, I even almost forgot why we were here, but then his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and made a face like he’d just remembered an unpleasant obligation.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, glancing up at me. “I need to take this.”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly.
He hesitated for a second, like he didn’t quite want to leave, but then stepped away and disappeared down the hall, already lifting the phone to his ear. Winnie flopped down on a chair the moment we made it back to the sitting room.
“This is so boring,” she declared. “We have to go out tonight. I’m not sitting around for the entire trip while old men talk about business.”
I didn’t answer. Just then, Alex stepped out of the office, and as his gaze swept across the room, he seemed strangely annoyed. Peeved, even.
His eyes moved to the space where Jesse had been standing earlier, but Jesse wasn’t there now and Alex’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. A strange, uneasy feeling settled low in my stomach as I watched him. Why was Jesse’s presence here so important?