Chapter 7
WILL
Eliza’s laptop was open to something that looked a hell of a lot like the sign-up page for an exclusive dating date. I grinned, inclining my chin toward the screen. “What are you looking at there?”
Her head snapped up so fast, I was mildly concerned about whiplash. “Nothing.”
She flushed, pink blooming across her cheeks, and the sight nearly made me fall face first into my whiskey. Holy shit, that’s hot.
Definitely not a sight I was going to forget anytime soon. I suddenly needed another drink. Promptly. I lifted a hand and caught the server’s attention, gesturing to my glass when he came over. “I’d like another, please.”
When he nodded, I turned to her. “What are you drinking?”
She glanced at the menu like it might attack her if she made eye contact too long. “I’ll have this one.”
What she pointed to after a brief moment of hesitation was without question the sweetest drink they sold here. It came with fruit skewered on a decorative stick and a small umbrella, if the bartender was feeling festive.
“Excellent choice,” I said solemnly.
She nodded equally as solemnly, as if she’d just signed an important treaty, and then we just sat there until our drinks came, neither of us saying a word. After the waiter set her cocktail down in front of her, she stared at it for a beat like it might contain secrets. Then she took a sip.
As soon as the liquid in her straw hit her mouth, she winced but took another sip anyway. Like she was determined to see it through. I watched her for another second before reaching across the table and gently taking the glass out of her hand, waving the waiter back over.
“Could you make this again, but with less alcohol and more simple syrup?”
She blinked hard, a slight, surprised smile ghosting across her lips. She glanced up at him. “A few more cherries as well, if it’s at all possible.”
The waiter gave me a look that suggested he had opinions about this order, but he nodded anyway and took the drink away. When I turned back to her, she was blushing again, fidgeting in her seat like she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands.
I held her gaze, trying not to stare at that ridiculously pretty flush on her cheeks. “Do you even drink alcohol?”
She hesitated, but only for a beat before she sighed and shook her head. “I don’t really like the taste, so no. Not regularly.”
I nodded slowly. “Well, that explains a lot. Why order a cocktail that has alcohol in it then, though?”
“I figured this was a good time to start drinking.”
My eyebrows hiked up a little before I could stop them. “That’s rarely a good sign.”
She gave me a small, tired smile. “My life is likely going to hell anyway, and apparently, alcohol helps one care less. Or perhaps simply focus more on the after-effects. Either way, I figured I should give it a try.”
I chuckled and lifted my drink in her direction. “Let me know if you want any pointers. I’ve got enough experience to qualify as an expert in this matter.”
She arched an eyebrow at me as I took a sip. “So you drink a lot, then?”
“These last few days?” I shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve been drinking a lot.”
A slight, almost understanding smile spread on her lips, but then her new drink arrived, brighter and even more cheerfully garnished than before. The bartender had also handled her request for more cherries with enthusiasm.
It was promising. Eliza, though, still picked it up cautiously, slowly bringing the straw to her mouth and taking a small sip. I watched her reaction closely again, but she didn’t wince this time, going back for another tentative sip instead.
“Well?” I asked once she’d swallowed the second. “How it is?”
“Better,” she said after thinking it over for a beat. “I like it a little bit more like this.”
“Excellent. I’d say that’s progress.”
“You’re a brilliant mentor in the pursuit of alcoholism.”
I laughed. “Thanks, I try, but let’s not make that an actual pursuit, shall we?”
She looked into my eyes for a long moment, her bright blue eyes turning slightly wary. “Why are you agreeing to marry my idiot sister?”
“Wow. Straight to the point, then, huh?” I just sat there for a second, then nodded. “Okay. I can respect that.”
Technically, neither Jesse nor I had agreed to marry anyone, but Eliza clearly hadn’t been told that, and since I was supposed to be trying to get my brother into her good graces, I figured this wasn’t the time to question her father’s communication skills.
On the other hand, he probably didn’t know about Jesse’s refusal either.
Eliza kept looking at me, everything about her so innocent and pure that I suddenly had the intense urge to protect her, to shield her not only from all this bullshit, but from the world as a whole—and vodka, but at least I’d won that battle already this evening.
“I assume you realize what you’re signing up for publicly,” she said, mercifully oblivious to my thoughts. “Do you have any idea what Winnie’s reputation is?”
“Yes,” I said, although it was only true in the broadest possible sense.
She leaned forward slightly. “No, I don’t think you do.”
Oh boy. Here it comes.
“Winnie is…” She paused, pretty obviously searching for a diplomatic word to describe her sister. “She’s, well, she’s Winnie.”
“She is.”
“What that means is that she tends to be impulsive, slightly dramatic, and absolutely everything she does ends up online.”
“Yeah, I think I got that part.”
“You got a taste of it, but I’m not kidding when I say that most of her day is spent with her camera on,” she said. “Then there’s Eugenie.”
I got this close to making a face at the mere mention of her name, but managed to catch myself right on time. “Yeah, Eugenie. How is she these days? I haven’t really kept up.”
Picking up my drink again, I swirled the liquid in my glass, trying to look like I might have some fond memories of her, as well as some complicated feelings about her.
It was a dangerous game, since I had no idea what Jesse’s actual relationship was with her at this point, but it was also my only option.
Eliza studied me for a moment. “She’s Eugenie.”
Okay. That seems to be a family diagnosis, then. I wonder what it really means. “Well, she did always have a strong personality.”
“So you remember how things ended, then?”
Uh, no, but since I can’t actually say that, this is going to be where my business skills are going to have to come in. “Yeah, of course, but I’m curious how you saw it.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “I saw it as a complete disaster, but I suppose that was why it ended between you. Honestly, everyone saw that breakup coming from a mile away.”
I nodded, not even having to fake how true that was. Happy that I’d successfully baited her into doing the work for me, I leaned back and just listened. Pretending to be Jesse was one thing. Trying to remember every disastrous phase of his love life was an entirely different level of nightmare.
As she spoke, recounting some of the more entertaining incidents that had happened between him and her sister, she kept sipping her syrup disguised as a cocktail.
Finally, she smiled and flushed again. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this.
You were there, of course. I’m sure you remember. ”
“It was a long time ago. I was young and stupid. Frankly, it was a different time. I was a different person.”
Literally.
She looked at me like she was trying to see through my skull, but I wasn’t worried. Everything I’d just said had been true—for both Jesse and myself. We’d both been young and stupid, but back then, Jesse had also been reckless and chaotic. Probably even flammable some days.
“I always wondered how you felt now about everything that happened back then,” she said after pausing for a brief moment. She looked back down at her drink, turning the glass slowly between her fingers. “I suppose you both really were young, though. Only college students.”
I nodded, but as I reached for my drink again, I caught a flash of her laptop from the corner of my eye and decided to try again. If for no other reason than my own morbid curiosity and an exit ramp out of this line of conversation.
“So,” I said lightly. “What’s that all about?”
Her shoulders immediately tensed. “It was nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing.”
Eyes dropping to her drink, she twirled her straw between her fingers and then leaned forward, popping it into her mouth and finishing the rest of it in one determined go. It was mostly syrup and cherries, sure, but that still couldn’t be a good sign.
“This entire scheme is so my dad gets the heir he wants,” she said once she’d swallowed and pushed the glass away. “Your dad gets a royal link for the Westwoods and mine gets someone to pass that link to.”
So she did understand what was happening, but it didn’t still explain why she was on a dating website. Her voice tightened slightly when she looked back up at me. “However, Winnie is not the only female of child-bearing age in our family.”
She waved a hand in the faint direction of the laptop. “I simply need to find someone and get married as soon as possible. Then I’ll have that baby, hopefully a boy, first. Before Winnie can take away everything I’ve worked so hard for—”
Abruptly cutting herself off, her eyes widened like she’d only now realized what she’d said. Color rushed into her face so fast, it was almost like she’d had a bucket of red paint dumped over her head.
“I didn’t mean—” she started before cutting herself off again, but she clearly had meant it.
There were a hundred things I probably should’ve said, but I was overcome in a way I was absolutely not prepared for.
I even almost told her that I knew she was the one running that estate, the ghost behind the scenes making everything work while everyone else got the credit, but then I remembered that I was supposed to be Jesse—and he wouldn’t have noticed those things.
Aw, fuck.
This was less than ideal, but as I looked back at her, I realized that probably didn’t matter right now anyway. The pertinent facts were much simpler than knowing things I wasn’t supposed to know because I shouldn’t have been looking so closely at all.
“You don’t need to look for some random person online to get married to.” The words sounded insane even to my own ears, but I went ahead and said them anyway.
She stared at me for a long beat. A furrow appeared between her brows and she let out a soft scoff. Reaching for her laptop, she snapped it shut and started stuffing it into her bag with sharp, efficient movements.
“Of course, you wouldn’t understand,” she said gruffly. “You’re Jesse Westwood. It’s unlikely you’ve ever had to fight for anything in your life and you probably never will.”
That stung more than it should have. Mostly because it was true.
As she slid out of the booth, however, clearly ready to leave, I reacted on instinct, reaching for her arm and circling her wrist in a gentle grip. “Eliza.”
She paused, her eyes narrowing to slits as she glanced at where I was holding her. I let go immediately, without waiting to be asked, then rose with her. “I’m here in this hotel tonight because I was actually on my way up to the suite to talk to your dad.”
Slowly bringing her gaze back up to me, her lips parted a little. Her head cocked. “Why?”
“That’s a good question.” I rolled my lips into my mouth, then pursed them, suddenly at a loss for words.
There was no version of this that wasn’t complicated or that didn’t make me at least a little bit of a liar—and I really didn’t want to lie to her any more than I already was.