Chapter 6
SIX
NELL
The helicopter blades were still slowing when Nell stepped onto the helipad.
The thick August heat of the Hamptons wrapped around her as her attention shifted to the woman stepping down from the small, chartered helicopter in front of her.
She couldn’t help but appreciate how Sarah looked with her jean jacket thrown casually over her shoulders, hair tousled by the breeze, irritation written across her otherwise composed features.
Nell allowed herself the briefest smile as she moved forward, timing it perfectly so she met Sarah halfway between her car and the helicopter.
Sarah’s mouth opened, likely to make some snide remark about the flight, but Nell didn’t give her the chance. She pressed her lips to Sarah’s cheek, and was rewarded with the way Sarah’s body instinctively leaned in.
“Welcome to the Hamptons, Sarah,” she said, savoring the fleeting pulse she had felt under her lips before pulling back.
Sarah straightened and smoothed a hand over her jacket, but there was a flush blooming high on her cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat.
“You know,” Sarah said dryly, falling into step beside her, “for someone who promised no more private jets, a helicopter feels like a bold interpretation.”
Nell laughed low in her throat before guiding Sarah toward the car waiting off the helipad. “Technically, you flew commercial to JFK. I upheld my end of the agreement.”
Sarah shot her a look, but there was amusement in her eyes, that little spark Nell enjoyed coaxing out of her.
Today, Nell had dressed for comfort, in dark jeans, a crisp, white button-down rolled to her forearms, and a pair of clean white sneakers.
Casual but still refined, perfectly setting her desired tone for the weekend.
Out of the corner of her eye, she took in Sarah and was pleased to see that she had followed the guidelines Rowan sent over—exactly as Nell knew she would.
Without a word, she moved ahead, lifting Sarah’s carry-on suitcase into the trunk of the racing-green Aston Martin DB12 before Sarah could protest. She reveled in the way the small act—so mundane; almost absurd given the army of people Nell usually had at her disposal—caught Sarah off guard.
She loved seeing the flutter of Sarah’s jaw and the way she shifted on her feet like she wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Good, she thought, and smiled to herself. She liked keeping Sarah on her toes. She was already having so much fun.
Nell circled to the passenger side and opened the door for Sarah, who paused, arching a brow in silent amusement.
Nell smirked. “After you.”
Sarah laughed as she slid gracefully into the seat. “Nell Stanhope, a gentlewoman.”
Nell’s smile grew as she gently closed the passenger door before slipping her sunglasses on, circling the car, and sliding into the driver’s seat.
The drive from the heliport to her house was short, but Nell did her best to stretch it out as they drove with the windows down, letting in the warm afternoon air as they rode in a comfortable silence that, to her surprise, Sarah didn’t try to fill.
They let it sit between them, dense and charged, as the countryside of the Hamptons rolled past.
The low purr of the Aston Martin’s engine thrummed beneath them, even as she pulled to a standstill.
Sarah glanced sideways at her, one brow raised, a knowing smirk curving her mouth.
“I’m not surprised,” she said, dragging her gaze over the immaculate dash, the gleaming chrome details. “You having an affinity for sports cars makes perfect sense to me.”
“And here I thought I had some element of mystery,” Nell said, eyes on the winding road ahead of them.
She eased the car into a tighter turn than necessary simply to feel the way it gripped the road, and to see if Sarah would react. She did. Nell caught the way she braced herself with her hand against the door and her short intake of breath, half laugh, half surprise. She tucked that reaction away.
“I’ve always loved fast cars, ever since I was a kid,” Nell commented offhandedly.
“My brothers used to drive them. They were idiots with terrible instincts—no expertise whatsoever.” She shifted gears with an effortless flick of her wrist, easing off the clutch and gently pushing the gas pedal.
“It fascinated me how they could have something so powerful under their control and be so . . . wasteful.”
Sarah tilted her head, studying her. “And you, of course, would never waste power.”
Nell smiled. “Not willingly.”
They pulled up to a set of discreet iron gates with no keypad or guards visible—only a clean, quiet sensor that recognized her car and swung the gates open without a sound.
Sarah made a soft, approving noise in the back of her throat. Nell’s smile deepened as she guided them down a narrow tree-lined drive. Sarah glanced at the house as it came into view: a sprawling, gray-shingled estate set against the backdrop of the bay.
Though she said nothing, Nell caught the subtle change in Sarah’s posture—the way she sat a little straighter, impressed despite herself. Nell pulled up directly in front of the front door and killed the engine, turning to face Sarah properly for the first time since they’d left the hangar.
For a moment, she looked at her.
The way the last of the afternoon light caught in Sarah’s hair. The way the steady rise and fall of her chest made the faint gold chain necklace around her neck catch the light perfectly. She was gorgeous.
“Come,” Nell said simply, in response to Sarah’s questioning gaze.
She stepped out of the car, and Sarah followed, her head tilting slightly, taking everything in.
The front of the house wasn’t overly ostentatious.
That wasn’t Nell’s style. But still, it commanded attention, with its perfectly weathered cedar shingles, bright white trim, and impeccable landscaping that greeted them as they stepped onto the arched front porch.
Nell keyed in the code to the door before stepping aside so Sarah could enter first.
She watched deliberately as Sarah crossed the threshold. Watched how she rolled her shoulders back, straightening herself, bracing herself for whatever world she’d just stepped into. And, for the briefest moment, she looked almost unsure. Almost vulnerable.
It hit Nell in a way she hadn’t expected because there was something almost painful in its purity.
Without thinking, she moved past Sarah, brushing close enough for the barest contact of their arms as she set her keys down in the tray by the door.
“This way,” she said, her voice low, leading Sarah through the vast, open living space decorated in pale woods, coastal colors, and deep, inviting furniture.
Mortimer came running from the dining room at the sound of their footsteps, and Nell bent down to scoop him up.
“Sarah, meet Mortimer Goth.”
A subtle look of confusion flashed across her face before Sarah held her hand out for Mortimer to sniff, which he gladly did. “Hello, Mortimer,” she cooed.
Mortimer wiggled himself free from her grip before sprinting off down the hall. “You’ll have to excuse him. He is a very busy man. Lots of business to attend to.” She looked at Sarah and saw the ghost of a laugh playing on her lips. “What?”
“Nothing. Just surprised,” Sarah said. “You don’t seem like the pet type.”
“Mortimer is my son,” Nell deadpanned. “Can’t you see the resemblance?” She enjoyed the way Sarah looked at her, unsure whether to laugh or not. “Kidding, of course,” she said, with a real, genuine smile as they continued into the living room.
“I’m not convinced you are,” Sarah teased gently.
Nell allowed herself a small laugh, but what came out was her real one—the unguarded one—not the practiced one she used in controlled situations. “He’s the only man who has ever successfully distracted me.”
“And here I thought you didn’t believe in distractions,” Sarah said lightly.
Nell stopped walking and turned toward her. “I don’t,” she said, her voice permissive now. “Except when I find I need one.”
For one long moment, they stood there, Nell feeling the weight of what this weekend meant pressing around them. She wanted so badly to break her own restraint.
Sarah hasn’t earned that yet, she reminded herself. But she will. That thought sent a fire through her. She shifted, pressing her thighs together ever so slightly to stop the spread of her own excitement.
She shifted topics with precision. “I hate to jump right into business, but we should run through the plan for the evening. Tonight, we will be stopping by Andrew Brennan’s.”
“The real estate developer?” Sarah looked at her quizzically as she tried to keep up with Nell’s subject change.
“Yes. He is hosting an unofficial donor party for his upcoming mayoral campaign.” Sarah scrunched her nose in thought, but whatever it was, she didn’t voice it, and Nell understood.
“I know, and I agree,” she continued. “He doesn’t have a chance in hell.
But it’s fun to watch a man drown in his own delusion.
However, it does offer a good opportunity for us to test out our little arrangement.
I want to see how you handle yourself in a new environment. ”
“You have doubts about my ability to ‘handle’ myself?” Indignation laced Sarah’s response, as though the idea of Nell not believing in her ability to be nothing but perfect was the worst thing in the world.
“Not a single one,” she said, and she meant it. “Do you have any questions about my expectations for tonight?” she asked, her eyes imploring Sarah, telling her, Now is your chance to get all those questions out of your system, before we really begin.
“I have many questions, but none about your expectations. Do as you say, when and how you say it, right?”
Nell smiled, a small, wicked smile. “Correct. And it starts with what you’re wearing tonight. I took it upon myself to pick out what I’d like you in this evening. You can find it upstairs in your room.”