Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Brandon

“And the winning couple is…”

My mother should’ve been an actress the way she revels in the spotlight, even when it’s of her own making.

“Drumroll please, Damon.”

My brother produces the required fanfare by rolling his ‘r’s and air-playing the drums, and my mother completes the dramatic effect by peering around the group on the porch as if they are the TV audience waiting in enraptured suspense.

“Brandon and his partner Rose.”

She couldn’t just say Brandon and Rose, she had to insert the distinct barrier between us with the word partner. I glance at Rose behind the drinks trolley in her uniform, beaming at my mother as if she just announced she won the national lottery.

I haven’t seen her since we got back to the house. The sun has left golden highlights in her hair that catch the glow of the fairy lights strung around the house, and her face has that healthy glow that only the ocean on a warm summer’s day can produce. She catches my eye, and I find myself smiling back at her like this is our moment.

“Brandon and Rose didn’t complete the treasure hunt in the fastest time, but they did, however, follow the brief of the challenges and come back with the most unusual—in the judges’ opinion—object from Rain Barrel Village.”

My mother produces the zoetrope and holds it up for all to see like she’s conducting an auction rather than hosting a cocktail hour.

“Brandon always has been able to sniff out a priceless work of art.” Mom pauses again for effect, and her friends provide the obligatory chuckles. “I’ll pass it around so that everyone can see why this piece won Brandon the overall winner title.”

Here is where I should intervene, remind her that Rose and I were a team, perhaps even correct her assumption that I discovered the zoetrope. The tacky snow globe is still in its box on the dresser in my room, just waiting to call me out on my silence at the end of the evening. But I wait a beat too long.

“Come on, Ruby,” April calls out. Having made a full recovery from this morning’s hangover, she is already on her third mojito. “Put us out of our suspense and tell me what I would’ve won.”

Mom smiles affectionately at April, pretending that she doesn’t know the cleaner spent the morning refreshing April’s ensuite bathroom. “An all-expenses paid trip to Vegas with $10,000 to spend in the casino.”

Rose blinks in slow motion. She must realize that her mouth is open, because she closes it abruptly, and shakes her head. “I-I can’t accept that,” she murmurs, so softly that I’m not even sure my mom heard her.

“Nonsense, Rose,” my mother says. “Don’t look so concerned, honey. It isn’t mandatory that you travel together. If I know my son, he won’t clear a slot in his diary for at least the next six months, so you can take a friend instead.”

Rose’s gaze flits erratically between my mother and me, trying to gauge how best to react without hurting anyone’s feelings. “I-I don’t know.” Deep breath. “It’s such a lot of money. I couldn’t possibly?—”

“I’m happy to take my brother’s place.” I didn’t even notice Damon working his way around the porch to reach the drinks trolley. “Show her the ropes. Test her luck on the roulette.”

I should’ve sought him out when I got back–told him the deal was off. My fists clench as he sways even closer to Rose.

“Perhaps you should ask Rose who she would like to travel with,” Jennifer says loudly enough to cut through the low buzz of conversation that erupted when the prize was announced.

Rose lowers her gaze, looking more out of place than ever, and for the first time in my privileged life, I get a glimpse of how we must appear to outsiders, standing here on our private island wearing outfits that probably cost more than she would earn in a month working in a kindergarten. The image vanishes as quickly as it appeared, but I already have the urge to wrap my arms around her and get her the hell out of here while she’s still relatively unscathed.

“I’ll go to Vegas with Rose,” I say before I can change my mind. “If she’ll have me.”

In my peripheral vision, I notice the set of Damon’s jaw like I just cut in line and bought the last ticket for a Knicks game; Jennifer’s smug smile before she raises her cocktail glass to her lips; Kelly slipping back inside the house unnoticed; the upward turn of my mom’s lips at the corners. I notice all this while drinking in Rose’s smile.

I find Rose in the pantry fetching more rum for the cocktails, which are flowing on the buzz of the treasure hunt.

“Brandon? You made me jump.”

I step inside, and she straightens to face me squarely, a bottle of white rum in her hand. The door swings silently shut behind me, making the room go dark, and neither of us pays it any heed.

“Is there something else you wanted?” She raises the bottle between us.

“No, I just wanted to say…” What did I want to say? “The trip to Vegas isn’t mandatory.”

Her expression falters, her gaze finally flickering towards the closed door. Muffled voices reach us from the chef’s kitchen—sounds as if someone is singing.

“You could always take the money instead. I could speak to my mom if that’s what you’d prefer.” I realize, too late, how patronizing I sound. “Alternatively, you can arrange to go with a friend or…”

Fuck! I’m acting like a sixteen-year-old, trying clumsily to find out if she has a boyfriend without getting to the point.

“Is that what you want?”

“What I want?”

I can’t remember the last time someone had me on the back foot this way. Internally, I’m trying to blame the ‘coward’ conversation for my awkwardness, but deep down, somewhere behind that barrier Jennifer claims I’m hiding behind, is a spark of recognition that this is all about Rose.

Scratch that. This is all about being close enough to reach out and touch her, to feel her body pressed against mine, and taste her lips.

“Do you want me to go with someone else?” she whispers.

“No.”

My head is screaming at me to turn around and walk back outside, pour myself a strong cocktail, and try to erase this stilted conversation from my mind. It’ll be forgotten by tomorrow morning, and I can start over, ditch the ‘take the money and run’ comment in the trash where it belongs. If today has taught me anything, it’s that Rose is more my equal than anyone I ever met in a boardroom, without even raising her voice or flashing a bank balance my way.

“What about your mom?” She pauses, the tip of her tongue running across her lips, in a gesture that seems so natural, I forget to question if she’s deliberately trying to be sexy as fuck. “How will she feel about us going to Vegas together?”

“I gave up asking my mom’s permission a long while ago.”

She smiles then. “Is it true there are no clocks in Vegas?”

“Yes. Clocks are a distraction the casinos don’t welcome.”

“How will it work, Brandon? I mean, where will we stay?”

She doesn’t mention sleeping arrangements, and the blood pumping around my veins has already decided that the question was deliberately ambiguous.

“I’ll take care of everything.”

She chews her bottom lip and moves closer. “I should go.”

“Rose.” I close the distance between us and before I realize what I’m doing, my hand is tangled in her hair, and my lips are on hers.

She tastes how I imagined she would. The contours of her body seem to mold against mine, and my free hand instinctively slides down her spine, grabbing her butt and pulling her against me. I don’t know what happened to the bottle of rum. One moment it’s cold and solid between our chests, and the next, her breasts are burning holes in my shirt, and the urge to rip her shirt open and bury my face in them is overwhelming.

I pull away, my fingers groping her buttons.

Her mouth follows mine, her tongue darting between my lips, forging a way in like I’m hers to explore. She buries her fingers in my hair, and I open my eyes momentarily to find hers closed, those incredible eyelashes framing the delicate skin of her eyelids.

Until the first button of her shirt pings open beneath my fingers.

The charged atmosphere inside the gloomy cupboard deflates like a popped balloon.

“No, Brandon.” She lowers her arms and turns away from me, tugging her shirt together, and peering down at the buttons. “I have to go change.”

“Rose, stay.” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own. “I’m sorry.” For pinging a button on her uniform or for crossing a line? She doesn’t ask, and I don’t offer an explanation.

She looks at me, and even in this cramped dark space, I know that she’s torn. In the moment, she wanted me as much as I want her, but her loyalty is to my mom and her guests, and she can’t serve drinks with a button missing—that simply wouldn’t live up to Ruby Weiss’s incredibly high standards.

I let her go.

I don’t want to—nothing could be further from what I want—but I let her go because Rose Carter isn’t like any other woman I know.

And I know what I must do.

Giving Rose a few minutes to get to her room and change her shirt, I pick up the forgotten bottle of white rum and leave the pantry.

“There you are.” Jennifer has one foot in the hallway and one inside the den as if looking for something or someone. “I wondered where you’d gotten to.”

“Replenishing the liquor.” I tap the evidence with one blunt fingernail.

“Don’t we have a housekeeper for that?”

I smile. There isn’t much that escapes Jennifer’s attention. “Just lending a hand.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, you know that. You seem … I don’t know … different tonight.”

“How many cocktails have you had?”

“Not so many that you can fool me, Brandon Weiss. What was it, the ruthless determination to win or the silky-smooth charm that won her over?”

I laugh out loud. “One day spent in my brother’s company, and you’ve become embroiled in the family gossip-pot. What did he tell you, huh? That I once spent six hours in a tree because I was determined to climb higher than him and couldn’t get down? Or my favorite: that I refused to eat a sandwich with the crusts on until I was in double figures?”

“Close.” She takes a deep breath. “Your brother took today very personally.”

She doesn’t need to say any more. I can imagine how Damon’s mood alternated between soaring highs when he was confident of victory and brooding lows whenever we crossed paths.

“Speaking of my brother. Is he on the porch?”

“Nope. The last time I saw him he was pouring his own strawberry daiquiri and complaining loudly about the help.”

Rose is already pouring drinks when I head outside. I can’t stop my eyes from traveling down the front of her shirt, and the tension eases from my neck when I see that the buttons are intact.

Damon is holding court with Sumaira and another friend of my mother’s, Roxie. They’re only half-listening to him, while trying not to miss anything important from the conversations taking place around them.

I walk straight over, make polite small talk for thirty seconds—any longer and I’ll be sucked into a discussion that will take me at least ten minutes to extricate myself from—and excuse myself and Damon.

We move onto the lawn, away from curious ears. “The bet’s off,” I say, facing away from the guests on the porch.

Damon knocks back a mouthful of his drink and sighs. “No can do. For a wager to be canceled, both sides must agree, and I hate to piss on your parade, brother, but I’m quite enjoying the challenge.”

“The challenge has a name,” I hiss, jaw clenched. “I’m not going to sit back and watch you ruin her life.”

“Bit harsh. It’s only a bit of fun—where’s the harm in that? Or do you want to alter the terms of the wager and have a go yourself?”

Every fight we’ve ever had, every sneaky comment my brother has ever made comes flooding back, and it takes all my willpower not to punch him right there in front of our parents and their friends.

“Back off, Damon.” I keep my voice low, between us.

“Or what?” The swagger is still there—I think my brother was born with the giant chip on his shoulder that he has never tried to shake off.

“Or I’ll destroy our mother’s illusion of your perfect happy family.”

I turn around and walk away, my heart thumping inside my rib cage.