“You did this on your own,” I remind him.
Corban gives me a big grin.
I search around, spotting his girlfriend.
“Why don’t you go start a fight over the woman you’re with instead?” I suggest.
Corban laughs.
Even though I detest Catherine, Corban seems enamored of her most of the time.
He says she would make a decent wife as though that’s all there is to the equation.
Evan hates her, and says she’s her only real goal is becoming a Winthrop.
Catherine is chatting with an older man I’ve known.
He’s got quite the large portfolio, and Corban doesn’t seem the least bit bothered that his girlfriend is flirting, not so innocently, with another man.
Then again, every other woman on this yacht has her eye on Corban.
He is a true catch.
An excellent picture of him would do wonders for all their advertising.
They want in on the action.
He was usually a modest kid, but recently, he’s been… increasingly cocky.
Now he’s up to plastering his face all over everything because his business partner isn’t as good looking.
Corban’s partner, Clint, doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he peruses the open bar.
“Corban starting a fight over a woman?” the teasing voice behind me can only belong to one woman.
Though I'm not sure, I'm used to the sultry aspect.
The confidence in her voice flows naturally, and she doesn't hesitate to tease me.
She's different.
“Tinsley,” I say.
I nod, as though it was my idea for Corban to start a fight.
“You,” she says.
She shakes her head, approaching me slowly, not out of hesitation though.
Tinsley draws out the moment of walking towards me, her long legs moving in a slow, confident gait.
“You and Olivia’s son? Still in cahoots with the boy?” she emphasizes the word boy, raising one eyebrow at me.
Tinsley’s attitude is sexy, and she’s even more beautiful than I remember.
There’s something I’ve always found so sexy about a woman who doesn’t need a man in the picture, and the woman in front of me doesn’t need me in any context.
She is living her life to the fullest.
It makes me happy.
But, only at first glance.
My heart does a little jump.
Damn it.
It knows that Tinsley will always be the one.
That spark in her eye; it’s still there, ever so slightly.
Not like before, but it lives.
It burns for me.
I know it like I know my own name.
“I help him out. Olivia and I promised each other we wouldn’t let the end of our marriage affect him. It hasn’t.” I motion around us.
“He’s done well for himself,” she admits, nodding. “With your help. You’re the toast of Manhattan, but you’re never around.”
Her comment strains me.
She gestures at me with one finger, the others grasping her drink.
“Neither are you,” I riposte.
It's hard to ignore the tension between us.
I haven’t called.
She hasn’t called.
It’s maybe been a year since we saw each other in Venice last.
“I was busy with work,” an excuse, by any means, but then she takes a deep breath.
“Oh? And just what does that mean?” I ask.
Tinsley wags that beautiful finger at me.
“I’m not having this conversation. Not on my vacation, and not with you,” she shrugs.
She walks away, but I am already on her arm.
“Tinsley, it’s still me,” I hiss.
It's prudent to soften my whisper, and I'm hoping I still remember how to get back on her good side.
“It is you,” she says.
Her blank stare tells me there’s a lot of us that is unresolved.
Is she angry?
“Come on, let’s get you another drink,” I say.
It takes courage to resist the urge to take her hand; we stop at the bar before finding a seat alone together, away from the crush of people.
It's hard to recall what the point of staying away from her was.
Although I’ve built an empire to make Tinsley mine, I can’t help but notice I’ve lost perspective.
Here I am, close to achieving everything I set out to do, and still, she and I are miles apart.
I never wanted to give her false hope in the first place, yet here I am, grasping at what I can at the first chance I’m presented!
She is the reason I stayed out of Manhattan as often as I could for so long.
I didn’t dare become distracted by my feelings for her!
Can’t she see that?
How can I make her understand how deeply I still love her?
Now, I perceive she will make it impossible for me to stay away.
Whether she intends to or not, Tinsley has a hypnotic effect on me.
We get her a Tom Collins, and I get whiskey, neat.
We walk over to the railings, peering out at the Miami skyline.
A jet flies overhead, coming into the airport from the Atlantic Ocean.
All along the Port, cruise ships are lined up, taking on or discharging their passengers.
Tinsley sips at her drink.
She seems a bit sullen, now.
“Is it Connor?” I ask, not wanting to pry.
I don’t stand too close to her.
It takes some effort.
“My father,” she confesses.
Tinsley eyes me suspiciously.
“It was my fault,” she admits. “I signed a paper allowing him to use my trust fund to buy me a seat at Whittaker. My whole trust fund. He realized that would lead to losing my job, so there's that.” she says.
She spills the whole thing, and her words lay on the floor, her voice flat.
It’s like she doesn’t believe that all of this has happened to her.
“Your father did that?” I ask, stunned.
I don’t let my voice betray my shock because any emotion will lead her on.
That will not happen…I've already sworn never to hurt this woman again.
“It’s my fault,” she blames herself.
“He said he wanted to move investments in my trust around, and I just signed the damn paper without reading it. I was in a rush,” she spills out.
Tinsley was always a little too trusting of her Father.
I never put a lot of faith in his business acumen, which is why I was so trusted by everyone else in his company.
Though she’s more grown up, more of a woman than when I last looked at her, I can tell she’s smarter than that, to just sign something without reading it.
“He moved around his shares in the company, didn't he?” I ask. “To give you that seat. That way you wouldn't just give it up?”
“Yes,” Tinsley replies, staring into my eyes.
“There's nothing I can offer,” I say, sipping my whiskey.
I won't go making another promise I cannot keep.
“There’s nothing to offer. There’s nothing I can do. I’m waiting, again,” she says.
Her voice sounds far off, and she’s gazing into the distance behind me.
“Noah, do you remember you promised me that you would see me again. Yet, you’ve managed to avoid me for a year since…” she says sadly.
Tinsley refuses to even peek at me now.
“Here I am,” I reply. “Again,” I say, trying to bridge that gap.
“It’s been a year, Noah!” Tinsley cries.
Her aggravated voice matches the expression on her face, that sexy pout, that hair.
Dear god what have I done.
“You deserted me,” she puts it right out there.
Her pout still in place, Tinsley isn’t fueled by rage, just hurt.
<
br /> “You never needed me. You hoped you needed me,” I point out blithely.
“I always needed you!” she yells, suddenly.
Tinsley raising her voice at me is shocking, but not unwelcome.
It means I still have a chance.
“Join me on Saturday; I'm having a party. It's your birthday isn't it?” I ask.
There’s a slim chance she will accept my offer.
“That’s what I get?” she says, sarcastically.
“What about Connor?” I ask.
I've seen the papers and it looks like they're as good as engaged.
What I don't get is why Tinsley is acting as she is, if it's only the same charade, the same going through the motions.
“You know what that’s about,” Tinsley hisses at me angrily. “You understand what that was always about! That was never anything more than pleasing both his and my parents! Now look at me!” she looks about ready to throw the rest of her drink in my face.
“Tinsley none of that has anything to do with me. Or you. Or you and I,” I say, evenly.
This is the only sincere response I can come up with, to catch her off guard.
She only groans.
“I’ll be there on Saturday. Give me your phone,” she says.
I hand it over even if my number hasn’t changed in the year since we saw each other.
She scrolls through my contacts, going to input her number, stopping at her name.
“I’m still in here,” she gasps.
Tinsley swallows hard before she looks up at me.
“My number is still in here,” she says.
“You think I’d delete it?” I say.
She assumes I'm on the same level as Connor.
“Why didn’t you call Noah?” she cries, stifling a sob.
She’s angry with me, her face falls, lower lip jutted out slightly, and I see it tremble her so slightly before she straightens up.
But her eyes are shining; I can still see how upset I've made her with a few words.
I can't stand her tears.
There were several times when I almost begged her to drop everything she was doing and just come with me, because I missed her that much.
I needed her touch.
I needed her love.
But, my damned pride stopped me.
I’ve never been much for begging.
I put my hands on either side of her arms, gently.
“When I was in Dubai, it was lonely,” I say. “The memories of our time together used to wash over me, like waves,” I tell her.
I stare into her eyes, intensely, and I can see the sparkle.
I pray the sparkle is because of me.
“Those memories used to haunt me, Tinsley. I couldn’t stand being apart from you. So much so that I flew back to Manhattan five separate times, to beg you to come back to me in that first month.” I confess.
Watching the shock wash over her face I stop myself; she knows the rest because we never saw each other.
I came back only to stop myself.
“So before you ask me why I didn’t call, I can show you those plane tickets.” I admit. “I was a damned fool.” I trail off.
I finish, picking up my glass from the table, and draining it.
“I’ll call you on Saturday. If you want to accept the offer or not Tinsley,” I say, walking away.
“Noah…” the vulnerable tone of her voice has returned, and I’m suddenly back in the Penthouse, and it’s the December we said goodbye, when we were wishing she were pregnant.
It's automatic to turn around and watch her face carefully.
“I would never turn you down,” she says with a smile.
She tosses her hair over her shoulder confidently before strolling past me.
“But Mr. Stone?” she says, suddenly saucy and all grown up. “It had better be an amazing party; I expect the world of you.”
And then she struts away, and I can tell she’s been using the same high-end shampoo, with the same intoxicating scent.
My nostrils take me back to years ago, and I don’t care about anything else.
I just stand and inhale.
My mind is on fire, and I curse my stupidity for ever having left her.
“Lucius, did you get that guest list from last night?” I ask.
It’s morning as we stroll around my new yacht.
I am thinking about rechristening it.
I’d name it “Tinsley”, but that wouldn’t be doing her justice.
I’m thinking of Stone Cold…
“There’s only one guest that didn’t check out,” Lucius smirks at me. “And there’s no record of her anywhere, no passport, nothing. Nothing is matching your description.”
“What’s the name?” I ask.
“Bexley Fabbraro,” Lucius reports with another smirk.
“I think we’ve found your girl, still no sign of Elizabeth though,” he admits.
“That means tha…” I have to think for a moment.
The yacht rocks a bit from the wake another ship makes in the channel.
“I have to return to Manhattan,” I come to a decision. “Lucius, you check the Society rags, and if you see the name Bexley Fabbraro mentioned, I want into that event. You look for that name everywhere! I want to see that woman again, because I am pretty convinced that woman could be Ava.”
“All right,” Lucius nods. “But, Noah, can I ask what we’re doing, on a boat?”
I hadn’t informed him of my latest addition to the fleet.
“We’re on my yacht,” I explain.
“You bought a yacht?” he says, incredulous.
“Why not? It’s about time I enjoyed my life, instead of working most of it,” I laugh.
“Aye, Captain!” he laughs in return.
I raise an eyebrow at my head of security.
He served his time in the Israeli Defense Force, but the military life was never for him.
Lucius trained extensively for years to become a bodyguard, and decided that wasn’t for him either.
Then, he spent years as a controller at the CIA.
Eventually, he tired of running operatives.
Also, the pay wasn’t all that good.
Lucius had shaved his head for years, but now he was naturally bald.
His caramel skin and green eyes placed his heritage.
He had managed to achieve comfortable life as the Chief of Security for my holding company.
Sometimes that involves following me around, whenever I felt like I’ve found a lead regarding Ava.
“If I may sir?” he says.
“Lucius?” I reply.
“You haven’t exactly been on the ball as of late,” he says, rubbing his finger along the side of his nose.
Lucius is right.
I was so desperately in love with Elizabeth at one point; this means I still believe she means well.
I want to believe Elizabeth would do nothing to hurt our daughter.
Maybe that’s why, as I knew Ava was getting older, I wasn’t looking as hard.
She’s all grown up by now.
That probably makes me a failure.
But, I can make up for it.
I can.
Not that I will have to.
I am entirely sure whatever Elizabeth has done, has faded, and she’s probably off in an entirely different country, pestering someone else.
A large part of me is also hoping that she’s found someone who will make her happy.
As happy as we were once upon a time.
“Lucius, let me handle this how I wish,” I tell him.
“Done,” Lucius nods, looking around.
“Pricey boat,” he notes.
“It's a yacht,” I remind him carefully.
I think that I see Ava everywhere, now, and I know this could just be another instance of wishful thinking.
There's no way I can bring myself to believe Elizabeth would hurt her flesh and blood.
16
Tinsley
September 19, 2015
Noah’s impressive purchase stuns both CeCe and Hazel, but I am unimpressed and unsurprised.
He always did things with a lot of flourish and using this is no different.
It’s another pool party in the Hamptons, the only difference being the change of scenery.
Clad in a pink bikini and various body chains to show off my tan, I approach him with the calm confidence of a woman who doesn’t still have feelings for him.
“This is so you. Far too extravagant,” I say, critically.
He’s got the top-of-the-line buffet, with premium alcohol, and an army of bartenders, servers; the works, as always.
Noah does everything in this style; I expected nothing less.
Noah smiles, glancing the two women that have just spied him.
He nods at them, and they wave back.
“You ladies look gorgeous, as always!” he shouts over to them.
They giggle and titter, and start to make their way over to him.
“Well, it’s good thing you’ve got all that alcohol,” I say as I pat him on the shoulder.
CeCe and Hazel approach, in awe of the way I speak to the Mighty Noah Stone.
“I needed to escape Manhattan,” he says.
“Well, you’re in the right place,” I say.
“Aye, matey!” he quips, before disappearing below decks.
Noah does not want to deal with either of the Wellington sisters.
Noah once told me that they give him a headache.
But, CeCe walks after him, trying to make another connection for work.
She is a die-hard lawyer, and her firm has been after Noah for months.
Hazel watches me curiously for a moment.
“Things with Noah are over. Right?” she says, a quizzical look on her face.
“What are you talking about?” I stare at her; she knows how things went with Noah, this isn’t old news.
Of course, I kept our trysts to myself.
“You two look pretty cozy,” she tells me.
She almost sneers at me, with the same voice she’s been using since I suggested Noah’s party.
“It’s been a rough week,” I say, sighing.
“So? What exactly is so wrong with your perfect life?” Hazel asks, crossing her arms.
CeCe was all for coming to the party, but Hazel wanted me nowhere near Noah Stone.
“Losing my job for starters. Do you know how hard I worked for that?” I stare at her for a few moments; she’s been there through the thick of things.
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