4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

PUCCI

Jamie

P resent day…

With Nora at his heels, Jamie stalked to the cockpit and knocked on the glass.

The captain was at the helm.

The chief officer came to the door.

“Uh…sir—” the man began.

Jamie was not the kind of man who asked for a manager. There was something abhorrent about that to him, the idea that anyone would feel so entitled they couldn’t deal with the person they were dealing with and negotiate terms, and instead demand to speak to a superior.

If those negotiations didn’t go your way, and the result was unacceptable, you simply didn’t patronize that establishment again.

It took little effort to understand why he felt this way. His father probably asked for a manager everywhere he went. Though, Jamie had personally seen him do it repeatedly while he was growing up.

But in that moment, considering the circumstances, Jamie pushed through the officer, Nora at his back, and he addressed the captain directly.

“Respectfully, I request, at your earliest convenience, you turn us around.”

“I’m sorry, sir, that isn’t possible,” the captain replied as Nora came to stand by his side.

And fuck him, the tangy, warm, orange blossom, jasmine and vanilla notes to her perfume always fucked with his head.

It did it in the lounge when he got close to her, regardless of how insanely pissed he was at her.

It was doing it to him now.

Jamie powered through her sexy-as-all-hell perfume.

“Can you explain why that isn’t possible?” he requested.

“I have my orders,” the captain announced.

Jamie fought grinding his teeth and asked, “And those orders would be?”

The captain stepped away from the helm, dipping his chin to the chief officer who took over, before turning fully to Jamie to address him.

And you had to hand it to the guy, he looked wildly uncomfortable.

“I was told you’d make this request, and I was told, under no circumstances was I to cut our tour short.”

“My daughter-in-law gave you that direction,” Jamie surmised.

“Well—”

“I can make it worth your while to violate her order,” Jamie stated.

“I know who you are, sir, and I know that you can.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “However, I don’t believe you can make it worth countermanding Hale Wheeler’s standing counteroffer.”

He heard Nora gasp.

And this time, he ground his teeth.

Because Hale was a member of the family.

And he was the richest man in the world.

Literally.

Jamie glanced at Nora, and both of them walked out of the bridge. They stood outside it as Jamie pulled out his phone and immediately called Hale.

Hale, who was supposed to be there with Elsa, and their new son Laird. Along with Mika and Tom. Genny and Duncan. Chloe and Judge. Alex and Rix. Ned and Blake. Sasha, Matt, Sully, Gage, Dru, Cadence…

And he and Nora.

Plenty of people around to run interference.

Not anymore.

Hale answered within two rings.

“Jamie—” he began.

Jamie cut him off. “Call the captain and have him turn this ship around.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” Jamie asserted.

“Right, those mega-yachts are floating climate disasters, which wouldn’t be my choice…ever, but with that said, you answer to Chloe if I do that shit,” Hale returned.

“You cannot tell me you’re going to strand Nora and I alone on a boat for a week for a vacation we didn’t buy into because you’re afraid Chloe is going to pitch a fit.”

Hale had sounded guarded.

Now he sounded amused. “You clearly haven’t witnessed Chloe pitching a fit.”

“Nora, nor I, are finding anything funny,” Jamie warned.

“I think maybe, and I say this with the utmost respect, you both should take this time we’ve given you to find out why you don’t,” Hale returned.

Could he have a new phone airlifted to him if he threw the one he had into the Hudson?

A uniformed woman approached and spoke to Nora, saying, “Hello, I’m Amy, and I’m your chief steward. Would you both like to be shown to your cabins? We’ve settled you in. Dinner will be served at seven, which is a little under two hours from now, with cocktails before, and you might want to refresh and dress.”

Trust Chloe to charter a yacht where they had to dress for dinner.

He had no doubt he was prepared, since Dru had commandeered his assistant and taken over his packing.

Christ, his own daughter was involved in this disaster.

“Sounds like you’ve got things to do,” Hale said in his ear, and yes, he again sounded amused.

Nora was staring at Jamie helplessly.

Seeing that look on her face, a look she’d probably never assumed in her whole damned life, his fury escalated.

But he jutted his chin at her and said, “We’ll have dinner. I’ll take care of this. We’ll be home later this evening.”

“All right,” she said shakily and followed the steward.

Jamie watched her go before he turned his full attention to Hale.

“You don’t understand what you’re doing with this, Hale.”

“I think we know exactly what we’re doing, Jamie.”

“You’d be wrong.”

But…

We?

“Exactly who’s involved in this fiasco?” he demanded.

“Well, Chloe, me…I’m sure you know Cadence and Dru.”

“Yes, I got those four,” Jamie drawled.

“There’s also Mika. And Genny,” Hale went on.

Naturally.

“And Tom, Duncan. Alex wasn’t a fan, but Rix thinks it’s a scream,” Hale continued.

“Fucking hell,” Jamie muttered.

“And Judge,” Hale finished.

It felt like he’d been sucker punched.

So he forced out his sardonic, “Excellent,” and he hung up on Hale.

He then called his son.

“Dad—” Judge answered.

“Turn this fucking boat around, Judge.”

“Dad, listen to me?—”

“Turn it around.”

“What’s going on with you two?” Judge asked.

And there was one question answered, what had precipitated this drastic action.

They’d all definitely noticed he and Nora no longer spent time together.

“It’s not your business.”

“How do you figure that?” Judge returned, and his words were becoming aggravated.

“We’re adults. I don’t get involved in your relationship with your wife.”

“Think about that,” Judge clipped.

“About me not getting involved when you and Chloe fight?”

“Chloe and I don’t fight. I tell Chloe something that’s bothering me. She either decides it’s important to factor into her life, or not. And then I realize, if it’s not, it’s not important, and if it is, all is copasetic.”

“I’ve seen you fight, Judge.”

“You’ve seen Chloe throw dramas. Everyone knows to ignore her when she does that. It eventually passes.”

Jamie blew out an infuriated sigh.

“What I mean is, think about how you jumped right to that comparison,” Judge carried on.

“Sorry?” Jamie queried.

“Whatever is happening with you and Nora being akin to my relationship with my wife .”

Fucking hell .

Jamie grew silent.

“Yup,” Judge said, ending that one-syllable word with a decisive pop.

“Bring us home. We’ll have dinner together on the boat. We’ll work things out. And when I get home, I’ll find time to sit down with you and your sister and explain why this can’t be what all of you think it is.”

“You can talk to me until it’s two thousand and ninety-nine, and I won’t get that. Dru either.”

“Judge—”

“You’re allowed to be happy, Dad.”

“Judge!” he bit, but he got nothing further out.

“Mom was whatever Mom was. That wasn’t on you,” Judge bit back. “Rosalind died. Her loss was hideous, but it happened. That wasn’t on you either. Live your life, for shit’s sake. And be happy.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Jamie gritted.

“Don’t do stupid shit to fuck up your life to make me talk to you like this.”

Jamie shook his head. “I cannot believe you’re buying into Chloe’s matchmaking maneuvers.”

“Oh yeah. You’re right. When she’s on one of those, we fight. But this one, Dad, this one , I’m with her all the fucking way .” Before Jamie could say a word, Judge continued, “Love you to my soul. Now I’m saying goodbye so I won’t hang up on my stubborn, stupid-ass Dad. Bye, Dad.” But he didn’t hang up, he ordered, “And don’t call Dru. It’ll be a waste of your time. She’s in on this all the way too. Love you. Get your shit together. Have fun. Later.”

And then his son was gone.

An hour and a half later, Jamie was behind the bar in the forward lounge wearing a suit and shirt, no tie, and he’d dismissed the steward because he could make his own damned drink, something he was just getting down to doing when Nora swanned in.

And swanning she did, wearing a long Pucci dress in the usual striking, but arbitrary pattern of that design house, this one in black, burgundy, red, cream, several blues, orange and green. The long sleeves were flared and hung down at least a foot at the back sides of her hands, and the V at the neck was deep and showed cleavage.

Oh, and the jersey material clung to her curves.

Right.

He was disinheriting both of his children.

Her long, thick, rich brown and caramel hair (those were her words to describe the color) was down and floating around her shoulders in waves. And the grace of her gait wasn’t lost on him, nor were the different pair of gold, strappy, high-heeled sandals she’d donned for their evening à deux .

He might not understand the act of murder.

But he was beginning to understand the urge to commit it.

His first wife Belinda had an icy beauty every man, including Jamie, wanted to thaw.

His second wife Rosalind might have had fiery red hair, but she didn’t have the countenance that went with it. She was warm and nurturing, from the moment he met her, to the last words she spoke to him.

Nora was a firebrand. She lived life no-holds-barred. She was rich, and she flaunted it. She had opinions, and she spoke them. She had attitude, and she didn’t dilute it. And if she cared about you, she’d do anything for you if it was within her power, and if it wasn’t, she’d find a way regardless.

As such, with hindsight, Jamie saw that sex with Belinda had been adequate. They were each other’s firsts. They’d been learning. But in the beginning, Belinda was all about pleasing him, rather than being in the moment and letting it wash over them, or better, sweep them away. At the end, she was rarely ever sober, so he couldn’t stomach touching her.

Intimacy with Rosalind was exactly like her personality. It was loving, giving, soft, sweet and on tap all the time. It was about whispers and touches that communicated adoration and complete connection. It had seemed impossible, and he’d often marveled at it, but it was true that nearly every time, their orgasms had been simultaneous.

Sinking inside his wife felt like coming home.

And now, after the kiss they’d shared, Jamie knew sex with Nora would be explosive. It’d be unpredictable. It’d be cat and mouse, or a fight for supremacy. It’d be combustible. It’d be consuming. It’d be heat and fire and the world would melt away. There would be no work. There would be no worries. There would only be Nora.

Jamie and Nora.

He wanted to experience that.

More, so much more it was like an ache, he wanted to give it to her.

But he couldn’t.

After what Belinda put his son through, and what losing Lindy had put all of them through, he couldn’t do it to his children.

Further, Jamie was an honest man, and extended that to himself, so he also knew he couldn’t go through it again.

Love was pain.

His father taught him this important lesson with how he treated Jamie, and his siblings, but mostly with how he saw AJ treat Jamie’s mother.

But he’d tried anyway, and found Belinda, then lost Rosalind.

Both had brought him to his knees.

Worse, the first had nearly destroyed his relationship with his son, and he’d had to watch his daughter lose the most important person in her life.

So…no.

He couldn’t do it again.

“I’m manning the bar,” he shared unnecessarily as she made her way to him. “And before you place your order, I need to tell you that I was unable to change Hale’s or Judge’s minds about our enforced weeklong cruise.”

She stuttered to a halt and shot him a killing look he knew wasn’t aimed at him, even if it physically was.

Unfortunately, he had to continue. “I also spoke with Tom, hoping I could appeal to his level head, and he’d intervene. This, too, was unsuccessful.”

The conversation with Tom had been his second least favorite of the three, considering Jamie was certain Tom would step in, so hearing he wouldn’t was far from fun.

Nora tossed an exasperated glance to the ceiling before she stalked behind the bar with him.

She put her miniscule bag that probably only fit her lip gloss on the bar, along with her phone, and lifted her arms with bent elbows, gold bangles jingling and flared sleeves fluttering as she waved her hands and waggled her fingers like a magician would do, all while she stated, “I called Mika, Genny, Chloe, no joy. I won’t share what they said, because I sense you got the same from Hale, Judge and Tom. I then requested a rescue from Allegra and Valentina, which meant I faced further defeat. Both of them have been corralled into this farce by Cadence. Nico, however, said he’d find a speedboat and rescue us.”

Valentina was her last born, a daughter.

Nico was her second born, her only son.

Jamie had met all her children, mostly in passing at the various charity events she organized. Though, on occasion, they’d dropped by her apartment when he and Nora were having dinner or watching a movie. He liked them all, even if they were nothing like their mother, who, until recently, he’d liked enormously (and he would again, after they got over this bump).

Her children were, to his surprise, a lot like Judge, Dru and Cadence, except they were married, or in Valentina’s case, partnered up without the intention to ever marry, but with a life commitment.

And he was unsurprised that Nico would ride to her rescue.

The only person who hated Roland Castellini more than Jamie did was his son.

You didn’t fuck over a son’s mother.

He’d tried to teach his father that, and failed, only because AJ Oakley paid attention to no one but himself.

“Where’s the muddler? I desperately need to muddle something,” she mumbled irately, looking around the bar area.

And damn.

He had not forgotten that the woman was almost always uproariously funny.

Maybe especially when she was annoyed.

He just didn’t need the reminder.

“Nora,” he called.

She turned her head and tipped it to look up at him.

The perfect opportunity for a kiss, and worse, with her lips glossed with her usual perfection, he badly wanted to give her one.

Goddamn it.

“We’re going to have to make the best of this.”

“I haven’t given up on Nico.”

“I’m not sure a speedboat would catch up to us at this juncture or make it with the fuel limits.”

“It feels like we’re crawling.”

“We are. We’re probably going seven miles an hour.”

Her eyes got big.

And occasionally, she could be cute.

He was in hell.

“But I hate to remind you of this, in the summers, your son lives in Vermont,” he concluded.

Nico was an English teacher, his wife a history teacher, and during the summer, to make extra money, and enjoy what they both enjoyed, the outdoors, they moved to a cabin by a lake and both of them taught writing classes at a local college.

Nora made a feminine growly noise he’d never heard her make before (also cute, but all he could do was to wonder if she sounded something like that when she was naked, on her back and he did something to turn her on) as she located a muddler and started tossing mint and lime wedges from the bar caddy into two highball glasses.

Apparently, he was drinking a mojito before dinner.

“How are we going to make it to the Caribbean and back in a week going seven miles an hour?” she asked.

“It’s doubtful that’s our goal,” he answered.

She stopped smashing mint, lime and sugar and stared up at him again.

“Be prepared not to leave this boat, sweetheart,” he warned.

She turned back to the glasses and went to town with the muddler, saying between her teeth, “I…am going… to kill many people .”

“Nora,” he called.

“What?” she snapped at her muddling.

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

She stilled but didn’t look up at him.

So he called again, “Nora.”

She gave him her eyes.

“Like I said, we’re going to have to make the most of this.”

“I don’t feel like getting along with anybody right now.”

“I understand.”

She sighed dramatically, and got over it, he knew, when she inquired, “I should have asked, do you want a mojito?”

“Since you’ve started, sure.”

“Oh, don’t mistake me, Mr. Oakley. I’m perfectly fine to drink two.”

He smiled at her.

Her eyes dropped to his mouth.

When he felt that in his cock, he let her wrist go.

That look she had on her face after he told her their kiss was a mistake came back, it wasn’t as strong, but it still gutted him.

She wanted him.

And she was in love with him.

Yes, it gutted him.

Because he couldn’t give that back.

That wasn’t true, he was in love with her too.

Hopelessly.

He just couldn’t follow through with it.

Because…not again.

Never again.

“After I finish these, I’ll make your bourbon,” she said while reaching for the rum.

And thank Christ she was strong, and kind, and smart, and could look out for herself, or what they had could be ruined.

They’d find their way back to it.

She just needed to save face.

And he needed to give her space.

It would be painful for them both, and that killed him.

But they were family now, thus it was unavoidable, and they were both the kind of people who, for the ones they loved, would suck it up.

“I’ll have a mojito,” he replied.

She nodded her head and didn’t reply.

Her phone lit up, and the screen said Ex Calling .

His neck got taut.

“Who’s that?” he asked, even if he knew exactly who it was.

She glanced at her phone, then said, “Ignore it.”

“Who’s that, Nora?”

She looked at him again. “Ignore it, Jamie.”

“Is it Roland?” he asked, and again he knew it was, because he knew the man had been sniffing around her all too frequently of late.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“ It does ,” he asserted. Then he stated, “Fuck it, I’ll find out myself.”

He grabbed her phone, took the call and put it to his ear as she cried, “Jamie! What are you?—?”

“Castellini?” he demanded.

“Oakley?” Castellini queried.

Nora had gotten close and was pressing into his side, now with her fingers wrapped around his wrist, trying to pull the phone away.

Not gonna happen.

“What the fuck?” he clipped into the phone.

“Where’s my wife? Why are you answering her phone?”

“First, she’s not your fucking wife. Second, I’m answering her phone because she’s busy making me a drink. Why are you calling?”

“Jamie, just—” Nora tried.

“That’s none of your damned business,” Castellini said in his ear.

“Seeing as I’m here, about to share a cocktail and then dinner with her while she’s wearing a phenomenal fucking dress, and you’re not, I beg to differ.”

“Fuck you and put Nora on the phone.”

“Don’t call her again, Castellini,” he ordered.

“ Put Nora on the phone! ” the man thundered.

“Don’t call again,” he said and then disconnected.

Nora was no longer pressed close, nor did she have her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

She was standing two feet away with her arms crossed on her chest and banked fury in her eyes.

He ignored the fury, even if he couldn’t ignore what her pose did to her breasts and how that made his trousers fit too snugly in the crotch.

“I’ll keep this for tonight, if you don’t mind,” he stated and slid her phone into his inside jacket pocket.

Her brows went up before she asked, “What if I do mind?”

“I’m still keeping it.”

“Be my guest. Now, just to say, there are a few more corners around here you forgot to piss in,” she informed him.

He disregarded that and asked, “Why is he calling you?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Nora, he cheated on you with every skirt he could con into bed.”

“You don’t have to remind me.”

“So why is he calling. Are the kids okay?”

“They’re fine.”

He tipped his head sharply to the side in a Talk gesture.

She tipped her head to the side too, and queried, “Did you visit him at his office after I filed for divorce?”

He nodded. “Damn straight I did.”

He was thankful when she put her hands on her hips. “Why did you do that? No,”—she shook her head—“why didn’t you tell me you did that?”

“He obviously told you,” Jamie pointed out.

“Yes, he did, right before I boarded this yacht.”

That was surprising.

“Let’s return to my earlier question,” she suggested. “Why did you do that?”

“Because the man is a motherfucker, but he’s not stupid, and he knew he’d made the biggest mistake in his life, and I wanted to rub that shit in. I did, and I enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

She stared at him, her eyes moving all over his face, then down to his jacket, where her phone was hidden.

Some understanding dawned, she lifted her gaze to his and said, “These shoes look like they can perform miracles, but they aren’t meant to be worn for a full bartending shift.”

He felt his lips twitch. “Then finish up and let’s sit down.”

She made short work of completing the mojitos. The moment she was done, he claimed both of the glasses and jerked his head toward a couch.

He followed her there. She arranged herself on the seat. He handed her the drink and folded down beside her.

She was taking a sip, and he was trying not to notice how much he liked her perfectly shaped almond nails painted a shocking scarlet, when he ordered, “Now explain what just occurred to you.”

She gave him an annoyed side eye he’d seen before, considering she often found it vexing he knew her so well, even when they weren’t having problems.

She did this before she dropped her drink to the knee she’d crossed over her other long leg, and she said, “The fact you seem to hate Roland more than even I do is about AJ.”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

And it absolutely was about his loathing of cheaters because his father was an unapologetic womanizer.

It was also about Belinda fucking her dealer to get her fix after Jamie cut her off financially in a last-ditch effort to curtail her addiction.

But knowing much more about that illness now than he did when he was in the throes of dealing with hers, he understood it was a symptom of her illness. It was one of the more unpleasant ones, on a list of symptoms that were all grossly unpleasant. Though he understood—even if it was difficult to live with—knowing where she was in her disease, it was nearly impossible for her not to engage in that behavior.

His father was another matter.

“Which brings me to the unfortunate pass that I can’t be irritated at you for your behavior,” Nora finished.

He smiled over the rim of his glass and repeated, “Yes.”

“Even if it’s wholly outrageous you took a call on my phone against my wishes, then confiscated it, again, against my wishes.”

He repeated, “Yes.”

She harrumphed and sipped her drink.

Christ, she was something.

He took a sip of his drink.

Yes, she was something.

A simple mojito she’d mixed in a snit, and it was the best he’d ever tasted. Not that he was a mojito man, but he hadn’t had just one prior to the one in is hand. It was just that Nora had a particular talent behind a bar.

Wordlessly, she raised a hand, palm up, scarlet-tipped fingers slightly curled.

With a wry grin, he slid her phone out of his jacket pocket and placed it in her hand.

She set it on the couch beside her.

“At this juncture, it might be good we make some ground rules,” he noted.

“If you’re about to suggest we get along, don’t waste your breath. I believe the Art of War states the enemy of your enemy is your enemy.”

Jamie chuckled. “Not exactly.”

She took another sip and stated, “We’ll have dinner, and it will be pleasant, because we’ll be discussing the varied acts of revenge we’ll engage in against our former loved ones the moment we return to the city. Once those plans are set, in the morning, all bets are off.”

“They think they’re looking after us,” he said quietly.

Her head tilted. “Are you no longer angry?”

He locked eyes with her. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m angry.”

She studied him, and as she did, the tip of her pink tongue appeared in order to travel along her full lower lip.

He watched.

Avidly.

Oh, yes.

He was angry.

“However, when I referred to ground rules, I meant we should try to make the most of what could be a relaxing week and start by agreeing we’re not going to dress for dinner,” he clarified.

She gasped in horror, and since she was Nora Ellington, it was genuine.

She didn’t hesitate to explain her reaction. “I packed an entire bag with evening wear.”

Jamie sunk deeper into the couch and sighed.

Then he murmured into his drink, “Fine.”

She aimed a smug smile into her glass before she took another sip, making him wonder what other ways he could coax her to feel that smugness.

Mm-hmm.

Definitely angry.

“And take this time that’s been forced on us to come to an understanding,” he continued.

Her bearing grew stiff. “I believe we already have that.”

“Nora—”

She turned to him. “Jamie, no. It’s been a trying day. I don’t want to fight. I haven’t had near enough time to wrap my head around what’s befallen us. Let’s enjoy our drinks, enjoy our dinner, get some sleep, and face whatever tomorrow brings… tomorrow .”

He had a week to wear her down, therefore, he could give her that.

He lifted his glass her way.

She pulled in a visibly relieved breath and exhaled before she did the same with her glass.

However, Jamie wasn’t going to leave it at that.

So he didn’t.

Even if it was barely above a whisper when he said, “Just know, you mean the world to me.”

“Jamie,” she warned, her voice husky.

“All I’m going to say, darlin’,” he muttered.

Nora took in another breath.

And exhaled.