by Amelia Wilde
“I don’t relish the thought of talking to Charlie this morning.”
“He did seem pretty pissed.”
We make our way out of the tiny rental house on the club side. The hotel is booked for the weekend so I went with the rental, even though I wanted to get the hell off Bliss property last night. I don’t know what Charlie’s problem is. I get that there is a problem, and that Charlie thinks it’s a big one, but whatever it is can’t possibly be huge enough to sink the Bliss empire entirely. It’s too big a ship.
But maybe Charlie doesn’t know that.
I settle into a jog and Everly matches my pace. We go down the hill through the club in the early morning light. The breeze is crisp and the leaves flutter to the pavement one by one in slow motion. It’s not usually this summery in September, but there’s something strange about this year. I knew it the moment the plane touched down in New York. But I can’t complain, because the weather means that Everly is wearing that tank top and those capris and her body is unbelievable. The jeans she wore at the bar were an epiphany, but her ass in these workout pants is a revelation. Especially against the backdrop of the lake. She looks out over the sand. “Nice.”
“It is nice.”
I scan the beach for any sign of Charlie, but I don’t see him out here.
“Why was he so upset?” Everly’s breath has settled into an easy rhythm. She steals a glance at me from the corner of her eye. “Do you really not know?”
“I had my phone off,” I hedge.
“For weeks? Nobody on the face of the earth has their phone off for weeks.”
“Fine. Not for weeks. But I did stop reading the messages after a while.”
“Why? Aren’t they your brothers?”
“Yes. Can’t you tell by our shared features?”
“Oh, I can definitely tell by the shared features,” she says, blushing. “But you never know. Six guys with similar faces and matching eyes could have started a resort based on that, I guess.”
“They’re really my brothers. And from what I can tell…” Our feet sink in time with each other into the sand, and that same warning scratches at the back of my mind. I don’t really know Everly. I only know that when I look at her, my heart reacts like a bongo drum under a pair of heavy palms. “It has something to do with the trust.”
“Are you…trust fund babies?”
I grimace at the sound of that. “Not exactly. The financial structure of the resort is set up with a complicated trust. It means that the resort stays consolidated, even if one of us leaves.”
“Has one of you ever left?”
“My brothers would say that it’s me who’s always leaving, but I always come back in the end.”
“But it makes them suspicious.”
“I think the wedding is what’s making them suspicious.” The breeze kicks up again, ruffling my hair. “I shouldn’t have said that it was yesterday.”
“So what if it was yesterday? It’s a free country.” Everly lifts her chin. “Besides, I’m hot. They should be happy for you.”
I laugh out loud. “They should. You’re right.” I point her in the direction of the jogging trail and we swing onto it. “I just…feel like there’s something waiting in the wings here.”
Everly stumbles, and my heart whips out of my chest. I catch her arm before she hits the ground and for a moment all of her weight is in my hand. I get an arm around her and sweep her up. “Wow,” she says. “You saved me.”
“That’s twice now, isn’t it?” I mean it as a joke, but Everly’s mouth presses into a thin line. “Don’t be embarrassed, Ev. Everybody trips up sometimes.”
Suddenly I become aware of how close I have her held to my body. Close enough to feel every breath. Close enough to feel the heat of her skin. Close enough to…
She steps back and smooths down her hair, breathless. “Come on, Asher. We should keep running.”
“Thanks for sitting down with me.”
Roman folds his hands on top of his desk and looks across at me.
I rub my hands over my face. “Let’s not be this way. It’s weird.”
“Well, you didn’t have to meet with me. After that business with Charlie I thought you’d be across the Atlantic by morning.”
“Yeah, well.” Pain arcs across my chest. “I don’t have any more items on my agenda at the moment.”
“No?”
“No. Dad was the one who sent me on my rounds.”
Roman considers this. “You don’t think you have enough to keep going?”
I wave this away. “I can figure it out. I just haven’t yet.” I’ve been dragging out these last few assignments all summer because it seems so final to have nothing left on the list.
“I’m happy to…take that over for you, if you want.”
I choke back a laugh. “Choosing my assignments?”
“Yes.” His eyes on mine are perfectly steady, and I can see that he’s serious. Roman and I are only a year apart. The roles here could easily have been reversed. I could have been the one staying at Bliss while he traveled all over the world, doing dad’s bidding. “You’d have to share some things, but…it could be done.”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you?” Roman frowns. “You got married yesterday? Was it planned, or did you have a whirlwind romance on the road?”
“It was a whirlwind romance.” One night at the bar, and one handshake agreement on her front porch. Still, the lie tastes bitter, like lemonade without any sugar. “But it felt like the right thing to do.”
“Ash…” Roman leans back in his chair. “I have to ask you this, and I hope you’ll be honest.”
My heart thuds loudly over the sound of my thoughts. “I’ve been honest.” I’ve been lying.
He nods. “Is there any chance that Everly could be the source of our problem?”
“The problem with the trust?”
A sly smile spreads across his face. “So you did read our messages.”
“Not all of them. But enough to gather that the resort is losing money, and the receiving account is a mystery locked in the trust.”
“And we have been…completely unable to solve that mystery without you. All of us have to be present to make the request for the document.”
“Shit.” Guilt claws into my throat. “If I’d known it was like that…”
Roman raises a hand. “You don’t have to explain it to me.” It’s probably true. We’ve always had an understanding between us. “Charlie, on the other hand…”
“I don’t know what Charlie’s so worried about. There are other…means.”
Roman raises his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Roman, yes. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time, seducing women in foreign countries?”
“Everly is from a foreign country?”
“Everly is from Montana.”
“And did you meet her in Montana?”
“Yes.”
“What other means do we have in Montana?”
“I don’t know.” With a click, a lock inside my chest releases. “I have no idea, Roman. Dad sent me to an address, and I…I met Everly.” This is close enough to the truth. Isn’t it? “But he’s sent me to lots of different addresses over the years to meet with lots of different people, and it’s always with the same objective in mind—to make sure everything is going smoothly.”
“What’s everything?”
“Dad’s made…other investments over the course of his life. Different businesses, different ventures. They all return money to Bliss, as far as I know. Straight into the trust.”
Roman pats the surface of his desk. “I want to smash my forehead into this. Secret revenues? What was he thinking?”
“I’d guess he was thinking that he wanted us to always be okay.” A painful lump pushes its way into my throat. Why is it still hitting me so hard that he’s gone? “I thought you knew about all of this.”
“I know about some of it, obviously. Driver’s got a similar thin
g going on. I just didn’t know the extent of it.”
“I’ve kept records, if you want to see them. I don’t have amounts of money, though.”
“No.” Roman sighs. “I’m assuming that’s all wrapped up in the trust. And if you’ll help us out, we can get access to that information and put this all to rest.” He sticks out his hand to shake. “Deal?”
“Deal.” We shake, but then Roman tugs me up to hug me across the desk.
“Don’t be such a stranger, you ass.” He claps a hand on my back and releases me. “Give my regards to your wife.”
“I will.” I head for the door.
“Asher?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s no way Everly is…” He circles a hand in the air. “Wrapped up in this somehow?”
If she had a bunch of Bliss money, like Roman seems to think, she wouldn’t have needed me to save her Ranch. Would she have? Doubt creeps in like the drip from a leaky faucet. “No,” I say. “No chance at all.”
8
Everly
“Roman is suspicious.”
I look over the top of the book I’ve been reading out on the porch of the rental house. Reading—I’ve been trying to read it, but in reality I’ve been skimming the same three paragraphs for an hour now, waiting for him to come back from the meeting with his brother. My palms feel cold, even though the day has been positively summery and the porch is pleasant. So pleasant.
I swing my feet off the wicker ottoman and close the book. “Suspicious of me?”
“Suspicious of you.”
That makes abundant sense. “Because I’m probably a gold-digger from Montana? If he thinks that, I can’t blame him.” I hope this comes off as confident and nonchalant, because my heart is ready to leap right out of my throat and fall on the porch between us. I thought it would be easier to keep a secret here in New York.
I was wrong.
A stray sunbeam catches in Asher’s eyes, lighting them up like the pure shallow water at the edge of the lake. “How married are we supposed to be?”
“Fake married,” I say automatically. “Why?”
“Because I want to…” He makes a sound of frustration. “I want to tell you what’s really going on. And I don’t know if that would be a mistake or not.”
“How could it be a mistake? It’s like method acting.”
“Method acting.” A wry smile curves the corner of his mouth in an arc that makes me want to lick the line of his lips. “You have a point.”
“Do you have a counterpoint?”
“Is too much intimacy going to make it harder when this is all over?”
“Of course not.” I grip the book tighter to disguise the fact that my hands are trembling. “I would never expect anything out of this except thirty days of excellent method acting. That doesn’t mean we can’t be…what do you call them? Right—friends. Give me some details so I don’t slip up and ruin this.”
Asher sits down in a wicker loveseat on the other side of the porch. “And you won’t tell anyone back in Paulson?”
I laugh. “I can’t see how anyone in Paulson would care.” This is the biggest lie I’ve told in the last five minutes. At least, I think it is. I have ways of confirming whether it is a lie or not, but I’m too chicken. I’ve been too chicken since I first heard Asher’s last name. “But no, I won’t tell anyone.”
He looks away from me, down the row of houses. “We’re losing money.”
“I’ve heard that happens in business. God knows it happens on my ranch.”
Asher shakes his head. “It’s not a profit and loss situation. We’re not spending too much on catering or having to replace stolen bedsheets.” He gives a wry smile. “Knowing Beau, we might be spending too much on catering, but that wouldn’t make a difference on this scale.”
My stomach tightens and turns, sloshing around in the cavity of my gut. It’s disgusting. “That sounds like embezzlement.” But how? How could anyone from Paulson have embezzled from the Bliss Resort. Well, once more into the breach. “Is that why you were in Montana?”
“Couldn’t have been. You didn’t know anything about my family. There’s no connection there.” Somehow, Asher’s eyes are sunlit even though he’s facing into the shade. “There is no connection, right? If you didn’t feel like you could tell me before…”
“No connection.” Not between my family and the Bliss Resort. And I have no proof of anything else, only a hint. “Honestly.” I press the book harder into my lap.
“I didn’t realize how bad it was,” Asher says softly. “I knew from the amount of messages that something was up, but my brothers…they don’t know. My dad never told them about the other things he had going on in the background.”
“Other businesses?”
“All kinds of other businesses. I figured they were common family knowledge. Otherwise, why would they keep paying my salary even though I stopped reporting back for most of the summer?”
“Because you’re their brother?”
He makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah. But we’ve been on opposite sides this whole time, and I was the fucking fool who didn’t know.”
“Did you…” I am the last person who should be giving advice about this. I got married and left my sister a note, after all. Knowing Brooke, she doesn’t particularly care if I’m gone or not as long as she doesn’t get kicked off the ranch. At least that problem is solved. For the moment. “Did you offer an olive branch?”
“I told Roman some things. But I couldn’t tell him why I was in Montana, because I still don’t know. I won’t find out until we get access to the documents in the trust.”
It feels so strangely intimate, this conversation. I wasn’t supposed to see him with his brothers like that, and I did…and now we’re on the front porch of the house we’re living in, discussing family troubles like a real married couple. A shimmering vision of this as reality comes down over my eyes like a curtain. I can picture it. I can see it.
And I can also see it punctured by the truth like a cheap balloon.
“He asked me about the wedding. I said it was a whirlwind romance.”
That makes me laugh, and some of the tension brewing in my gut flies away on the wind. “That’s almost accurate. If only you’d just said whirlwind.”
Roman smiles, and it strikes me through the heart. He is, without a doubt, the sexiest person I have ever seen. I send up a wish to the sky that I could look at his face without seeing the subtle similarities of someone else I know.
Someone else I knew.
I push those thoughts out of my mind. “So what you’re telling me is that we can’t let our guard down for an instant.”
He sighs. “Yes. I think Roman already finds it odd that we got married two days ago and showed up here in the middle of what they think is a financial catastrophe.”
“If it’s not really a catastrophe, why don’t you just say that?”
“I told Roman there was other money, but it’s not hitting their ledgers. He was surprised to hear about it. Which means it’s all going back to the trust. I don’t even think Charlie can see all the figures. He must be seeing some of them, because they disappearing money is being funneled through the trust, but there’s a piece he’s missing. There’s a piece we’re all missing.” His eyes meet mine. “I don’t want them to blame you for it.”
Warmth settles over my shoulders like a cashmere blanket. “It would be okay, you know. If you let me take the blame. It’ll make more sense when we…part ways.” For some reason, I can’t bring myself to say get divorced, though that’s what we’ll be doing.
“No.” Asher’s tone is final. “I don’t want to do that.” The warmth curls into a brighter heat. “I only wanted to bring you in on the fact that our…performance…has to be on point.”
Footsteps on pavement at the other end of the street catch my attention. It’s Charlie, running, jaw set and shoulders tight. A fierce determination like a flame in my chest ignites. “The let�
�s put on a show.”
I toss the book onto the other wicker chair and cross the porch to where Asher sits on the loveseat. His pupils widen, huge and dark. “What kind of a show?”
Bravery blends in with the anxiety making my heart pound. “This kind.”
By god, I straddle him.
He sucks in a breath and I settle my weight onto his lap, throwing my arms around his neck. And then I give in. I give in to the urge to bend my head to his, to let my lips linger on his, and to lick that line at the corner of his mouth.
Asher lets out a low groan. “Christ, Everly.”
Charlie passes by the front of the house. I see him turn his head, and I press my nose into Asher’s neck.
I don’t flinch when Charlie’s familiar blue eyes meet mine.
He looks away, picking up speed.
“That’s right,” I murmur. “Run away.”
Asher rests his hands on my waist and turns to see the street. “He’s right to hurry.” He brings his face to mine and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. It sends sparks all down the length of my spine. “We’ve got another meeting to request access to the trust. This’ll all be over soon.”
He hesitates, like he’s going to add more, but instead he lifts me easily to my feet. My heartbeat thunders in my ears. If anything in that trust points back to me in more explicit detail…
If anything in that trust points back to another family in Paulson…
A family that lives next door to mine…
Asher stands and kisses my forehead. “I’ll be back soon. Enjoy your book.”
I sit down and pick it up again, but can’t absorb a single word.
9
Asher
“I’m sorry, boys.” Bill Henderson, the lawyer who officially administers the trust on behalf of our late father, adjusts his glasses. “I’m sorry. None of you are boys anymore. Old habits.”
“It’s all right.” Roman sits easily in the chair across the desk from Bill, looking for all the world like this is a regular old meeting with a lawyer and not the most momentous occasion to take place this year. Maybe ever in our lifetimes. His posture holds absolutely none of the constant tension in the room. It feels like sitting in the middle of a broken white noise machine that’s gone accidentally shrill. “What do you have for us, Bill?”