Chapter One #2
Her gaze comes back to me. “I’m a primary school teacher. I helped organize the Children’s Art Auction.”
The Ashford Foundation runs a program where schoolchildren create artwork that gets auctioned at our regular galas. This year they’ve produced paintings, handmade crafts, and illustrated storybooks, and earlier the guests bid on them and raised a significant amount of money.
“You organized that?” I ask, surprised.
“Oh, I just helped the kids.” She helps herself to a tiny, caramelized onion tart. She’s being modest, I think. She wouldn’t have been invited to the ball if she just helped out in her spare time.
“So… why are you seeing Caesar?”
She stops with the tart halfway to her mouth. Moistens her lips. Then takes a bite. “Just meeting up with an old friend,” she says in a tone so casual I know it’s not casual at all.
There’s obviously more to it than that, but she doesn’t want to tell me. Well, that’s her prerogative, unfortunately. I can’t force her to confess.
I swirl the Scotch around, cooling the Glenlivet over the ice, then have a mouthful. She watches me, the expression in her eyes unfathomable.
“Nice watch,” she says eventually. “Patek Philippe? You really have gone up in the world.” Her eyes gleam.
I bristle at the implication that I’m spending money on fripperies. “I work hard. And I like beautiful things. I’m not going to apologize for it.”
She blinks. Then she says softly, “I appear to have touched a nerve. I’m sorry. I wasn’t implying anything. It was an observation, that’s all. When we knew each other, all you and Caesar cared about was rugby and cricket. Now, your technology is used all over the world.”
I wait for my racing heart to calm down. I’m not really annoyed at her comment. I’m angry that Caesar arranged to see her tonight, and he didn’t tell me.
“I still care about rugby and cricket,” I say mildly. “I’d be watching the Black Caps play India in the bar right now if my attention wasn’t distracted by a beautiful woman.”
“Oh stop it,” she scoffs, and I smile. “That’s better,” she says. “You’re much less scary when you smile.”
“Me, scary?”
“You’re very intimidating, Mars. I mean, you always were in a way, so tall even as a boy, but now you’re all…” She bites her lip and gestures. “And wearing a tuxedo that I’m sure is tailor made because it fits really well.”
I smirk at the thought that she’s noticed. “It’s a Brioni,” I reply. When she doesn’t react, I add, “It’s a Roman fashion house.”
Her eyes widen behind the mask. “You had it sent from Rome?”
“No. I went to Rome to have it fitted.”
She gives a short laugh. “Wow. How the other half live. So… you’ve traveled a lot, then?”
“Yes. Dad sends me to negotiate sales of our technology in other countries. The UK, Ireland, the Netherlands, the US, South America. So… did you travel much around Australia when you were over there?”
Her smile fades again. “Melbourne and Brisbane, that was about it. It was super-hot, and my skin doesn’t like the sun.” She’s very pale. I try not to think about the amount of pale skin that used to be revealed when she wore a bikini.
“What went wrong with Cory?”
She leans on the table again, her chin in her hand. “He decided he’d rather spend the time with someone else than with me.” Her lips twist.
I stare at her. “He cheated on you?” When she nods, I inhale with disbelief and outrage. “I don’t believe it.”
“And I didn’t find out for six months, which is even more humiliating.” She drops her gaze to her glass, then has a sip. “Seems to be a recurring theme for me.”
“What do you mean? Tim cheated on you, too?” She was dating him when we first met, and she turned up at his apartment on campus one day and found him in bed with someone else.
“Him as well. There was also Richard, when I was twenty-six. Clearly, I’m not enough to keep guys interested.”
It’s a self-pitying statement, and she looks a little embarrassed after she’s said it.
I wait for a moment. She doesn’t need me to get angry on her behalf.
“Tell me their addresses,” I say. “I’ll get one of the guys in my security detail to take them all out.”
That makes her laugh. “Be serious.”
“Look at my face. I’m deadly serious. They won’t even see the guy. He was a sniper in the army. He can take out a man at two thousand meters.”
She’s giggling now, and I smile. I can’t bear the thought that she thinks she’s somehow not enough.
“So you haven’t yet advanced to reading digitally?” I tease, gesturing at the book on the table.
She picks it up and turns it over. “I prefer real books. There’s something nice about the feel of one in your hands.”
“I happen to agree.” I look at the cover. “A biography of Michelangelo? The Ninja turtle?”
She grins. “It’s very good, actually.”
“I like his unfinished sculptures. The figures look as if they’re trying to climb out of the marble.”
“That’s exactly what Michelangelo said he was doing.”
“‘I saw the angel in the marble, and carved until I set him free?’”
Her eyes meet mine. “Exactly.”
I hold her gaze for a moment. This girl has always fascinated me. After I asked her out and she turned me down, I had to watch her dating other men, and then when she settled on Cory, I assumed she was lost to me. I’ve tried to move on… but I’ve thought about her often. The one who got away.
She rubs her nose and shivers. There’s a cool breeze out here on the terrace, and she’s not brought a jacket.
“Here.” I stand and slip off mine, walk around to her, and place it around her shoulders.
“Oh!” She looks up at me, holding the lapels with both hands. “You needn’t have done that. You’ll be cold now.”
“I run hot. I’ll be fine.” I return to my seat.
Her gaze slips down me briefly, although she doesn’t say anything. Then her eyes rise again to mine. Our gazes lock again, and my heart jolts. I open my mouth to say something.
“Marcus!”
I follow the sound of the voice and groan. My sister is marching toward us, holding up the skirts of her emerald ball gown so her stride isn’t impeded. Her red hair bounces around her shoulders with every step of her tiny frame.
A guy follows her, a few feet behind. He’s wearing a tux like any other guest, but the earpiece gives him away. As they exit the bar, he quickly scans the terrace before giving me an apologetic look.
“Shit,” I mumble. I get to my feet as she approaches, and I hold up my hands. “Let me explain.”
“I told you I didn’t want another bodyguard!” She stops before me, hands on her hips. Her green eyes flash behind her mask. Her chest heaves with indignation. “This should be my decision, not yours,” she says earnestly. She swallows hard. “Please, Marcus.”
I harden my heart. When I was younger, Aurelia was always able to get around me, but I’ve grown more adept at spotting her techniques.
“No,” I state. “He stays.”
“Marcus!” She glares at me. “You don’t have a bodyguard full-time. Why should I have one?”
“Because I’m six-three and nowhere near as pretty as you. He stays. Luke answers to me, not you. Right?” I look at Luke.
“Yes, sir,” he says.
“I’ve given him instructions to be very firm with you,” I tell her. “I’ve told him exactly how you like to twist your security detail around your little finger. I’ve made sure he’s wise to all your little tricks.”
Aurelia opens her mouth to protest, but I interject with, “I’m in the middle of something, and you’re being very rude.”
She looks at Wren for the first time, stares for a moment, then says, “Wren? Wren Carter?”
“Hey, Aurelia!”
My sister laughs as Wren rises, and the two of them hug, Wren having to bend quite low because Aurelia’s so small.
“How are you?” Aurelia asks. She pulls out a chair, about to sit.
I clear my throat, and Aurelia looks at me, then at Wren. “Ohhh…” she says, “sorry. Did I interrupt a tryst?”
“Yes,” I say.
Wren giggles. “No, not at all. I’m waiting for Caesar.”
“And here he is,” my brother announces, walking up behind Aurelia.
I stifle a groan. I’d hoped to have a little longer with Wren alone.
“Where have you been?” Aurelia snaps. “The mayor wants a photo with you.”
Caesar runs a hand through his hair. “I… uh… had a meeting.”
I glance him over, and my lips curve up.
Aurelia doesn’t notice and says, “Okay, I’m off to sort out the press packets. Promise me you’ll come and see the mayor when you’re done here?”
“Will do,” Caesar says, and Aurelia flounces off, doing her best to ignore Luke, who follows six feet behind.
I lean forward and murmur to my brother, “Your buttons are done up wrong.”
“Fuck.” He turns away and checks them out, then rearranges them quickly.
I look at Wren. She’s sitting up straight, looking at him. She looks nervous again, and something else… With some disappointment, I realize it might be excitement.
Caesar turns back, buttons corrected, and grins. “Wren. Has Marcus been keeping you entertained?” He holds his arms out.
“He has, thank you.” She walks up to him, and they have a big hug.
I watch them, simmering with jealousy. They met in their first year at university and were both part of a large friend group that Aurelia and I inevitably got drawn into, because everyone was always around our house.
As far as I know, the two of them have never dated.
I hadn’t realized they’d stayed in touch once Wren left the country, but clearly I was wrong.
They part, and he says, “How have you been?”
“I’m good, thank you,” she says.
“You want another drink?”
She reaches for the jug on the table. “I’ll just have some water. I need a clear head.”
“Oh… sounds interesting.” He grins and looks at me. “Can you get me a whiskey?”
I grit my teeth and refrain from telling him I’m not his personal waiter. “Sure.” I stalk off to the bar and put in the order. While I’m waiting, I look back at the two of them. Caesar has taken my chair.
We’re fairly similar to look at, although I’m half an inch shorter than he is, as he never fails to remind me.
But in terms of personality we’re very different.
Caesar is charismatic, effortlessly so, and always the center of attention, in the spotlight, whereas I’ve hovered in the shadows.
I’m the moon to his sun, reflecting his light, and it’s been hard for me to deal with.
The bartender slides the glass across to me, and I take it back to the table, putting it down with a little more force than is necessary. Wren is leaning her chin on her hand again, and her gaze flicks briefly to me before returning to him.
“It was nice to meet you again,” I say to her.
“Your jacket,” she replies, and goes to remove it.
“Just give it to one of the staff when you’re ready to leave.”
She flashes me a smile. “Thank you for chatting to me. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, thanks bro.” Caesar winks at me through his mask.
I hesitate, wanting to stay and to tell him to vacate the chair with every bone in my body. But Wren is focused on Caesar. I’m the fifth wheel here. Once again, she’s not going to choose me.
Glowering, I stride away.
I need a drink.