7. Chapter 4 – Nikki #2
“The car’s waiting, Nicolas.” She tapped her foot, and I grinned at the woman I was surprisingly happy to see.
Opening my arms, I wrapped them around her in a tight hug before pulling back to get a good look at the ridiculous outfit.
“I’m ready. And thank you for arranging this wonderful day, dear sister.
” After placing a delicate kiss on her cheek, I shot her an impish grin and held out my hand. “Shall we?”
She rolled her eyes, but then placed her palm in mine.
I led her down the impressive concrete stairs leading to a beautiful front garden to the awaiting car.
I escorted her to the luxurious black sedan and held open her door.
The waiting chauffeur, standing stiffly against the front passenger door, dipped his head in acknowledgment and went back around to the driver's side.
Once we’d seated and settled into the buttery leather seats, my favorite dictator spoke. “First, we’ll grab breakfast. A man cannot survive on mints alone, Nicolas. Armand, please take us to Cafe Girondino,” she commanded the chauffeur before turning her appraising stare back to me.
“May I ask why you drank yourself into a stupor last night?” She cocked her head, long curls bouncing along her shoulder. “Was the thought of spending a day with me so horrid, you needed lubrication?”
She laughed at her own joke, but I could see the truth behind her stoic presence.
We’d been on rocky ground, she and I, for several years.
Our father’s inability to accept me as I was, and our mother’s commitment to duty over motherly love had been the final straw.
I’d rejected our family expectations, packed my bags, and emigrated to Argentina.
I loved my sister in the ways older brothers felt the need to protect and provide for them. I loathed her desire for title and wealth. But she was straight, and not the sole male heir. Her responsibilities were different.
Thanks to a good bit of therapy, I’d released it all last summer, and we started speaking again. Two days ago, we saw each other for the first time in a decade.
Reaching over, I clasped her warm hand in mine, intertwining our fingers as if we were children.
I was fortunate to have a sister whom I loved and could share a bit of my life. More than anything, I wanted a family — people who loved and accepted me as I was. If a sister was all I would get out of that deal, I would cherish her, warts and all.
“I’m thrilled you came to visit, Bianca. Truly.” I turned our hands over and blew out a long breath. If we were doing this — this honest sibling thing — now was as good a time as any.
“I was dumped last night,” I admitted, a part of me fearful of her reaction. “By a man.” I added when she remained silent. “It wasn’t overly serious, but serious enough, and so I turned to whiskey for a brief reprieve. I’m fine now.”
Sadness filled her eyes, but words didn’t come. Instead, she squeezed my hand and offered a small smile. We weren’t good at platitudes, the Seymours.
“Then let’s have a grand day, shall we?” She released my hand and drew out her phone from her pocketbook.
“A grand day that Father will pay for.” Her wicked grin tore a raspy laugh from my throat, and I settled into the seat, ready for the distraction.
I had lost Timothy, but maybe I’d gained Bianca, and that trade would be enough to fill the hole in my heart for now.
As I suspected, Bianca’s suit was indeed impractical, and she broke a heel within the first thirty minutes of our park visit after breakfast. Instead of whining, she laughed it off and bought an exorbitantly overpriced pair of sandals from a market stall.
She ate fried cheese bread and pastels from a street vendor and marveled at the marmoset monkeys leaping from the tall trees by their ringed tails.
I’d prepared to connect with her, but was delighted to find I enjoyed her company. In the ten years I’d been absent, my sister had grown into a fun and charming young woman. We’d had a wonderful day, and I capped it off with a traditional boteco bar supper.
“No!” Bianca exclaimed, gasping into the foam of her beer as I regaled her with a story about our posh mother mistaken for staff at a Nollywood movie premiere.
“I’m serious!” I laughed with my whole chest, knowing she would be furious if she knew I was telling this story. “She thought he would know her! She waltzed right up to Timini in her tiara, ready to pose for a picture, and he asked her if she knew where the loo was.”
A familiar ring burst through her peels of giggles, the tone reserved for Aileron, my employer.
I couldn’t afford to miss the call. My expensive habits didn’t pay for themselves.
“Good evening, Nicolas Seymour,” I answered.
“The Third.” My sister whispered with a giggle behind my back, her third beer making its presence known.
“Hi, Nikki,” my supervisor said seriously. “How’s your time off?”
“It was lovely.” I pursed my lips and waited for the inevitable request. “But if you’re calling, I can assume you’d like it to be over?”
How I missed my seniority. When I switched carriers two years ago, I’d lost my footing in the company rank, dropping to Junior Flight Attendant once again. Standby shifts with rubbish schedules kept me from getting into trouble, but I’d intended to enjoy the rest of my limited time with Bianca.
“Sorry, Nikki,” came the canned reply, though she didn’t sound apologetic in the least. “You don’t have to take it, but it's a turnaround to Mexico City, and the overtime pay will be doubled. Small flight—you’ll be the only cabin crew.”
Anticipation rippled through me at the prospect of a new adventure; I hadn't flown to Mexico City for over a year. Maybe I could find enough time to hit up La Santa, get laid by a pair of fraternal twins, and drink my weight in tequila before I was forced to get back on a plane to South America.
No, that was the old me. New Nikki was going to be the responsible, post-breakup mate who did not drink to forget.
Was I really considering this?
I eyed Bianca, who stared curiously across the small bistro table. “Who’s the pilot?”
“Amelia West and Jameson Adams. You’re in excellent hands.”
Marley.
The image of the beautiful woman came to mind — an exact replica of the voluptuous goddesses in 14th-Century paintings my father pretended he could afford — with sun-bronzed skin and full lips designed by God himself for kissing and fucking.
A hell of a pilot, and any man with a heartbeat and two cells in their brain would snatch her up without thought. We were friends. Good friends. Though we hadn’t flown together in an age, with nothing on the schedule in the last few months.
I thought back to the last time I’d seen her, at the previous year’s holiday party where I’d swindled a single dance and discovered the painful fact my brilliant pilot had all the grace of a rhinoceros in stilettos.
Besides, micro-dosing this reconnection with Bianca was probably best. Today was lovely, best not to ruin it with an accidental trip down memory lane tomorrow or the next day.
“Okay,” I announced, my decision made. “I’ll be there.”
Shoving my phone into my pocket, I turned toward my expectant sister. “Looks like I’m being called in. I’m so sorry.”
I reached across the table and clasped my sister’s hands in mine, guilt warring in my gut at the genuine disappointment in her frown. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me I’d opted to leave.
“I’ve had an incredible day with you, Bianca.
Don’t think I haven’t for a second. This is a quick turnaround, and I’ll be back in two days.
I have a friend who would love to spend tomorrow with you, if you’d like the companionship?
He loves British women, and he’s an excellent time,” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.
“When I get back, we can finish your trip off with a bang, I promise.”
My sister delicately sniffed, adding to my discomfort. Who would have thought we’d enjoy each other’s company to this level? I’d barely thought about Timothy all day.
Eventually, she nodded and forced a smile before raising her hand from mine to summon the server for another drink. “He’d better be handsome,” she mused, daggered eyebrows raising in challenge.
“If you think Henry Cavill is handsome, this man is an Adonis,” I promised. To my relief, she giggled.
I tore into my taco with renewed gusto, anticipation replacing the guilt deep in my belly. Lady Luck was shining upon me, and I certainly would not reject this new fortune. When it came to Captain Marley West …
Well, I’d waltz through the jungle in bare feet if it meant she would give me another one of those horrid dances again.