Chapter One Lee #2
I try not to watch too closely as he lifts the bottle to his mouth.
I should be more careful about giving myself away.
I shouldn’t know what his favourite beer is.
I shouldn’t know the ten thousand other tiny facts I know about him like the way he loves raspberry-flavoured things but hates actual raspberries, how he does jigsaw puzzles working from the inside out (the lunatic), or how he got that scar on his lip trying to do a wheelie on his bicycle to impress Tansy Bennet when he was thirteen.
I shouldn’t jealously hoard these scraps of information like a magpie with an eye for something shiny.
‘Sorry. Did you want a cocktail or something?’ I’m flustered and I hate it. I wasn’t ready for him, I wasn’t prepared for his Nico-ness, not here and now.
‘It’s perfect.’ He puts the bottle back down on the bar and scrubs both hands over his face. ‘Just what I need after a long day.’
‘You said you’ve been working?’
‘If you can call it that. Spent a few days hiking in the Grand Canyon with a couple of friends. Had to get away from all the drama.’
‘What drama?’
Nico rolls his eyes. ‘All the legal stuff that comes with Dad’s death. Honestly, I don’t even understand half of it but it seems to involve an entire army of lawyers and everyone wants their pound of flesh.’
I wince. Nico’s father was a duke – yes, an actual duke – but Nico’s mum Claudia was his second wife and the two of them had a pretty acrimonious divorce.
His dad passed away a few months ago and Nico’s half-brother Ward, from his father’s first marriage, inherited the title and the estate.
As far as I know, Nico doesn’t speak to that side of his family at all.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say hesitantly. ‘I should have said right away. I know how strange it must have been for you. Your relationship was complicated.’
He laughs then, though it holds no humour.
‘That’s a polite word for it. Anyway, this trip has been just what I needed, and I got some great shots of the condors.
It was beautiful, but after all that peaceful communing with nature I felt the itch for some noise, bright lights and a decent meal, so I headed here.
’ His eyes meet mine and an electric zing runs through my whole body.
‘And look at how that’s worked out. Serendipity. ’
‘I can’t believe you’re really here.’ I shake my head. ‘It seems like ages since I last saw you.’
‘It’s got to be about a year, right?’ Nico looks thoughtful. ‘At your mum and dad’s house with Jack and Cynthie?’
The first time my brother had brought his fiancée Cynthie home to meet the family. It had been as fraught as most interactions are with my parents. Thankfully, Nico was there to smooth the way. The peacemaker. It’s a role he’s played often over the years.
‘Right,’ I agree now. ‘At least a year. And Gran was very upset that she missed you.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I know. I got a proper telling off.’
It’s my turn to grin. My parents, Max Jones and Caroline Turner, were two of the biggest stage and screen stars in their day, and their relationship makes Burton and Taylor’s look like a Disney movie.
Gran was the one in charge of us kids. With all the time Nico spent at our house growing up there’s a running joke in our family that he’s her favourite grandchild.
It should be noted that neither of them have ever denied this.
‘Did she make you feel like a worm?’
‘What do you think?’ He tilts his head, mischief dancing in his eyes. ‘How’s she doing, anyway?’
‘Gran? She’s great. She’s taken up Taekwondo because, and I quote, “we’re two vulnerable women living alone and if anyone ever broke in you’d be about as much help as some limp spaghetti.
” Which is ridiculous,’ I huff, ‘because – first off – I’m surprisingly scrappy, and secondly, no one’s getting past the security system Jack insisted on having installed at our place.
It’d be like breaking into the Pentagon. ’
Nico chuckles. ‘Still, good to know you’ll be living with Jason Bourne should shit hit the fan.’
‘Yeah, maybe give her a few more weeks before she’s ready to roundhouse kick potential intruders.
It seems to be mostly about bowing and breathing at the moment, which is a relief.
I do worry that she’s not slowing down at all,’ I confess.
‘The woman is eighty-two. She’s terrible at remembering to take all her pills and she ignores everything the doctor says about her diet.
I’ll bet you any amount of money she’s spent the last few days consuming nothing but foie gras, posh crisps and vodka.
’ My fingers tap a nervous tattoo on the bar.
‘I know her better than to take that bet.’ Nico takes my hand in his and squeezes my fingers.
His touch is warm and steadying. (If something that makes your entire body sing can be described as steadying.) ‘I also know you worry about her. We all do, but she’s an adult, Lee.
She’s in better shape at eighty-two than most people are at fifty.
Some fancy paté isn’t going to bring her down. ’
I exhale a slow breath. ‘You’re right. I just can’t imagine…’ I trail off, and Nico lets go of my hand in favour of slinging an arm around my shoulder so that I can lean into him.
He understands why I’m anxious. Gran is a force of nature and even thinking about a world without her makes me want to curl up in a small ball.
‘Come on,’ Nico says, ‘let’s go and sit in one of those shadowy booths so that you can fill me in on all your gossip. It’s getting noisy in here, and I want you to myself.’
YOU CAN HAVE ME!!!! my brain shrieks, but thankfully, my mouth manages a casual, ‘Sure.’
Nico slides from his seat, catching Jake’s attention and gesturing to our drinks before hooking his thumb towards one of the cosy booths that line the side of the room.
Jake nods, and I gather my handbag and the black Temperley jacket hung over my seat.
Nico takes my hand, tugging me along after him.
I don’t come from a touchy-feely family. Even Gran isn’t big on physical affection, but Nico has always been incredibly tactile, and as usual it’s a kind of delicious torture every time he touches me.
Wedging himself into the corner of the booth, Nico’s long legs sprawl under the table, and his arm rests along the top of the banquette. I resist the urge to draw closer to him and focus on asking questions about the hike he’s just done.
‘And how long are you in Vegas for?’ I ask eventually.
‘Until tomorrow.’ His fingertips toy with my hair, which is pulled back in a mermaid braid.
I didn’t previously think that hair had nerve endings, but try telling that to the rest of my body, which is lighting up like a Christmas tree.
‘I’m actually heading to LA to catch up with Jack and Cyn for a few days.
’ He gives my plait a teasing tug. ‘You should come along.’
‘I have to work,’ I say. And I wasn’t invited, I add mentally, while trying not to show that it hurts, that my brother rarely seems to remember that I exist.
At that moment, a woman struts by our table.
She’s absolutely gorgeous, her curves poured into a tight, short dress.
Tossing her hair, she flashes Nico a seductive smile over her shoulder, her red lips curving in invitation.
Clearly, this woman realises I’m no threat at all.
If I wasn’t here killing the vibe, I’m sure he’d be half way up to her room already.
As it is, Nico’s too polite to do more than return her smile before his attention is back on me.
‘Speaking of work, stop distracting me with questions and tell me what you’re doing here,’ Nico says.
‘Oh, well, actually—’ I start, but I’m cut off when Nico leans forward.
‘Holy shit!’ he murmurs, and his hand drops to my leg under the table, which means his next words take a long moment to reach me. ‘Sorry to interrupt but… I think Frankie Martelli just walked in.’
‘I—’ I start again, still thrown by the feeling of his fingers lightly pressing against my thigh. ‘Frankie Martelli?’ I repeat, dazed.
Nico nods, and his expression is elated.
‘He owns this place. He doesn’t bother coming down to the floor much these days, the guy’s got to be almost ninety.
He’s a legend. Oh, shit, I wish I had my camera.
Look at that face.’ His fingers tense, squeezing my flesh, and I inhale sharply, but fortunately he doesn’t seem to notice.
‘He’s coming this way,’ he practically squeals. ‘Be cool.’
I turn my head to watch as the hotel owner approaches, wearing a broad grin.
Nico’s right, he’s got a great face. Heavily lined, and full of character.
He stops beside us and beams down from behind a pair of oversized glasses.
He’s dressed in a snappy dark red suit and he looks every inch the owner of one of Las Vegas’s biggest casinos.
‘Sweet Ophelia!’ he booms.
Nico makes a small, sharp sound of surprise as I reply:
‘Hey, Frankie.’