by Calista Fox
Vin eyed her curiously. Stepped toward her and shifted her thong back into place. Worked her tight skirt along her backside.
She gazed at him over her shoulder.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, appearing genuinely concerned.
Jewel finally rallied the strength to straighten. She turned to him. “No. You know I liked it. Though I probably won’t be able to sit properly for a week.” Her gaze narrowed on him. “Why’d you do it that way?”
His expression darkened. “Because Rogen never has, right?”
She shook her head.
“No one ever has, right?”
Another slight shake.
“That’s why. I want to own you like no other man ever has. And”—his head lowered to hers and he murmured, “I wanted you to feel me long after we were done.”
Damn him for stealing her breath again.
Yet she managed to ask, “Are we done?”
Vin dragged a hand down his face. Sighed with exasperation. And a notable amount of irritation.
“I don’t fucking know, Jewel.” Pain flitted across his chiseled face, making her heart hurt. “I take one look at you and I want you like nothing I’ve ever known before. Every single time. I’m held hostage by it, trapped. And I can’t tell whether or not I ever want to escape. But all that comes of it is me getting screwed over.”
“You?” she softly demanded, her own pain swelling in her throat.
“You always go back to Rogen, Jewel. Always.”
“I’m not the one who disappeared,” she reminded him in a sharp voice. “If you’re held hostage, how could you have ever left me? Especially when you swore you never would.”
More tears stung her eyes. Memories of Vin going off the grid with no explanation whatsoever made her stomach coil.
“You walked away so easily,” she accused. “What … did you get bored with me, Vin? Had you fucked me every way you knew how and were just plain finished with me?”
Now the tears fell. The lump in her throat grew, nearly choking her.
“You’d be insane to believe that, Jewel. Even for a second.”
“You broke my heart!” she cried.
Vin’s jaw set. Agony filled his eyes as he said with controlled fury, “You fucking broke mine.”
Then he walked past her and out the door.
Leaving Jewel reeling.
She stared at the door he’d slammed shut behind him. Figuratively as much as literally?
She didn’t know.
Jewel swiped at her tears, but they kept coming. She needed a really good sobfest at the moment. Wanted to weep for all the shit they’d gone through as teens. The disaster that still haunted them, still existed between her, Vin, and Rogen.
But she didn’t have time for that.
Come on, Jewel. Pull it together.
She splashed water on her face. Dabbed at her skin with a hand towel. Inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. Over and over. Until the flow of tears stopped. Until she was no longer shaking.
As she gazed at herself in the mirror, she could see she looked wholly off-kilter, yet for contradictory reasons. There was a certain glow to her directly related to two amazing orgasms. But the pain was still visible.
With a sigh, she left the restroom. Only to run smack into Francine Hillman, a high school friend. One of the “murmurers” who thrived on top-secret gossip.
“Oh, my God, Jewel!” she blurted in her exuberant voice. Francine was a perky thing with short, sassy blond hair and big hazel eyes. “So it’s true—you are back in town for the weekend. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Nice to see you, France.” They hugged. Then Jewel said, “I was with Bayli and Scarlet last night before Bay takes off on her big New York adventure.”
“I’m so happy for her. Now … about you. Inner-circle confidants say you’re having cocktails with Vin and Rogen this afternoon. Leslie Stevens saw you on the patio earlier.” Her sculpted brows wagged. “I swear you are the luckiest woman in the world to have those two men so hopelessly devoted to you.”
“I don’t know about that,” she grumbled, her heart compressing.
“You mean the three of you aren’t … you know?” Francine’s eyes lit with excitement.
“Oh, hell, no,” Jewel was quick to say. “It’s definitely not like that!”
Who would even think that for a second?
Oh, yeah. Jewel would.
She bit back a groan. Do not go there. Do not go there. Do not—
Could she actually seduce them into agreeing to be with her?
It was sooo tempting!
Do not—
“Well, anyway,” Francine said, “perhaps someday you’ll finally choose between them? Free up one of their hearts for the rest of us to vie for?” She winked.
“I’m not holding anyone back, France.” Though Vin’s words instantly returned to her.… I can’t tell whether or not I ever want to escape.
What the hell was she supposed to make of that? Do with that?
Jewel had no idea. She told Francine, “I’m heading back to the city tonight. I don’t intend to make it a habit to come home.”
All the memories wrecked her, so what was the point? Well, until she got hold of that land she wanted. Then she’d be so damn busy with her plans for the inn that she wouldn’t have time to think about Rogen and Vin. Or get mired in the past.
The inn was her future—that needed to be her focus. Not whether two hot and hunky men would concede to sending her to sexual heights the likes of which she’d never known.
“Look, I’ve got to run,” Jewel said. “The guys are waiting for me.” They hugged again.
“Try not to be too much of a stranger, huh?”
Jewel smiled. “We’ll see. It was good bumping into you.” She continued on her way.
Joining Rogen and Vin, she slipped into her seat and tried to appear collected. Strictly a facade, because she was a mess inside. And it didn’t help matters that Rogen studied her a bit too closely, making her squirm as she propped herself partially on her hip to avoid any discomfort and reached for her freshly poured champagne.
Vin looked equally tense. Rogen’s gaze slid from her to him, and back.
Then he said, “This is an interesting turn of events. Seems we all have something the other wants. Question is, what are we going to do about it?”
Jewel swallowed hard.
Oh, Christ.
Was this opportunity knocking?
Was this the moment Jewel was supposed to mention that she was fully amenable to a different definition of their “threesome”?
SEVEN
Jewel took a long drink from her glass. Averted her gaze.
Rogen’s gut clenched. She and Vin had been gone for some time. When Vin had returned, he’d still appeared uptight, but with a smug, satisfied air about him that had made Rogen wonder if he’d just had Jewel in a bathroom of Bristol’s. After all, Rogen was quite familiar with his friend’s triumphant expression when he’d just made a woman scream so loud she shook the rafters.
And since Jewel suddenly wouldn’t make eye contact with either of them and her breaths came in sharp pulls—not to mention her neck and cheeks were flushed—Rogen had a feeling his suspicion was dead-on.
Fucking fantastic.
All that avoidance they’d done for the past decade was about to come to a head.
Perhaps that was a good thing. Get it all out in the open.
The past pains. And current desires.
Except that Vin drained his Cristal, set the flute aside, and stood. “There’s nothing to discuss here. That land is going to remain deadlocked until the two of you inherit it, and then you can decide what you want to do. Leave me the hell out of it.” To Jewel, he said, “Go back to San Francisco.” His attention shifted to Rogen. “I’ll see you at the estate tomorrow morning.”
Then he sauntered off.
Rogen shook his head. Yeah, there was definitely something going on that he’d turned a blind eye to
for far too long. He wasn’t one to bury his head in the sand as a rule. He didn’t mind confrontation, always chose to stand his ground. In business and with his parents as well, now that he was an adult and they didn’t have a say in how he lived his life—or what woman he ended up with.
But sharing Jewel with Vin?
He bit back a disconcerted growl. First, he’d punch Vin in the face. Then … well, then he didn’t know what the fuck he’d do.
Because the thought of the three of them together together had been on his mind since the party. Yet it was a notion wrapped in prickly feelings and risky complexities. Too volatile a subject to ever broach.
Jewel finished her champagne before getting to her feet. She smoothed a hand over her short skirt while holding her small handbag in the other. She said, “I really have to be getting back.”
So Vin and Jewel wanted to keep playing the avoidance game, too. How smart was that, really? Aside from maintaining the peace amongst them? For the most part, at any rate. It was obvious there was still something wrong between Vin and Jewel.
Rogen said, “I’ll walk you out.”
“No, that’s fine. I’m going to make the rounds in the bar and say hi to whoever might be there so I don’t appear anti-social. France already caught me in the hallway.” She pulled in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and attempted a smile, though he could see that the corner of her mouth quivered with emotion. “See you around, cowboy.”
She left him. Rogen let her go.
No easy feat.
But sometimes holding on too tight didn’t get you where you wanted or needed to be and letting go was necessary to preserve your sanity. And your friendships. Even if all the signs screamed that Rogen wasn’t the only one in love with Jewel Catalano.
Which could lead to one seriously explosive situation—in a lot of different ways.
* * *
Rogen beat the hell out of his punching bag Sunday afternoon. Immersed himself in work Monday and Tuesday. Cornered his father Wednesday evening, when Gian had returned from a quick trip to the Tuscany operations.
Rogen dropped a file folder on his father’s desk in his massive study and said, “Our highest-end cognacs are now on the premium lists at the Bellagio and Caesars Palace. Three more country clubs in Santa Barbara, Dana Point, and Palm Springs. That’s just this week.”
“Excellent,” Gian told him with a nod of approval. “We want to maintain exclusivity with the new line, but we do need to be hitting those VIP rooms. Create a buzz.”
“Ha. Puny.” Rogen smirked.
His father didn’t look amused.
So Rogen simply said, “Agreed.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and got down to other business. “I spoke with Jewel. She thinks we’re going to sell the land to her.”
Gian didn’t glance up from the paperwork he perused. “I have no intention of relinquishing that property.”
Rogen’s gaze narrowed. “She seemed pretty confident you’d come to terms.”
“I let her buy into that. Clever girl, that one. She knew better than to just come at me with a check and a smile. She’s located a vintage brand of scotch from our family’s first distillery that I haven’t been able to acquire. She’s convinced she can secure it, and damned if I’m not a believer. Clever and tenacious.” He whistled under his breath.
“Pretty ballsy, too, to have come here without her father.”
“It’s her own deal, I think. But again … I’m not selling.”
This confused Rogen. It didn’t surprise him, yet … “What about the scotch you want?”
“Oh, I intend to end up with it. I have a plan.”
“And that plan would be?”
Gian finally looked up from his desk and gave Rogen a conspiratorial grin. “When I send it out for authentication, the decanter will get lost in transit. I’ll compensate Jewel for her trouble and regretfully inform her that without the scotch the deal’s off. It’ll eventually turn up and sit on my shelf.”
Rogen folded his arms over his chest. “You’re going to double-cross her.”
“It’s business, Son. Jewel is smart enough to know that anything could go wrong. That this could all fall apart for her. She might be out time and effort but, as I said, she’ll be compensated.”
Stewing over this, Rogen asked, “What’s the point in keeping that property in a stranglehold? If we can’t develop it, nor can the Catalanos, what’s the purpose of it still being part of our portfolio?”
Gian pushed his chair back and stood, planting his hands on his desk. Spearing Rogen with an intense look. “I refuse to let Catalanos encroach on my lot line. Keeping that tract between our estate and theirs is the purpose of it still being part of our portfolio.”
“Then why don’t we make an offer?”
“Because Anthony Catalano feels the exact same way. We might have to coexist in this town, but not as direct neighbors.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake!
“I understand that Anthony broke your pact,” Rogen said. “That he moved autonomously on that land when it was supposed to be a joint venture. And he took advantage of the situation during a vulnerable time for our family.” Right in the middle of Taylor’s illness and subsequent death. Rogen’s younger sister had been diagnosed with late-stage cancer, had suffered horrifically, and had died not more than four weeks later. It had wrecked everyone under this roof.
So yes, Rogen could fully understand his father’s anguish. The unfortunate aspect was that the situation had never been resolved. The two men had never even tried to make amends.
Rogen hadn’t been privy to all the details, but from what he’d gleaned, Anthony Catalano had made the split decision to employ Plan B for the land, rather than the Plan A he and Gian had finally agreed upon. Anthony had brought surveyors onto the property, had conducted environmental tests, and intended to break ground on an Italian village of art galleries, restaurants, and specialty markets with imported goods—rather than the viticulture center and international tasting room previously agreed upon with Gian.
Anthony had later contended that Gian was not of the frame of mind to make sound business decisions while dealing with his daughter’s severe illness and treatments and the ensuing grief of her death. Taylor had only been nine, after all. A beautiful, precocious girl who’d easily wrapped everyone around her little finger from the very beginning.
Rogen in particular. He’d been devastated by her dire diagnosis alone. It had also rocked the very foundation of the Angelini estate. The entire community of River Cross. Making it particularly shortsighted on Anthony’s part to swoop in with his favored plans for the property.
Later, Anthony had asserted that he’d had everyone’s best interests at heart. But despite the fact that his business schematic would have made the two families a shitload of money, it was the principle of the matter that led to Gian not reconciling with him. And forbidding his wife and his son from associating with Catalanos.
A huge clusterfuck all the way around.
For God’s sake, Rogen’s parents had staff call whatever restaurant they chose to dine out at in order to ensure Anthony and Sophia didn’t have a reservation there within a two-hour time frame of their visit.
Gian said, “If Jewel is interested in that land, Anthony will grind over the fact that they can’t get their hands on it. That’s the only vengeance I get. But I’ll take it.” He returned to his seat.
Rogen didn’t bother to mention he’d been grinding himself, for years, because he wanted his own vineyard. He already knew what his father would say: So find some other land to grow on.
But the point was to keep the distillery and a new winery connected, not divided by a county or two.
“If that’s all,” Gian said, “I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.”
Rogen nodded. “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”
His mind churned with a way to acquire that land himself, but the Catalanos had not been receptive to Gian’s offer
s in the past, so the Angelinis had stopped making them. And Rogen’s father was right. Anthony clearly wanted the property and would leave it sitting if he couldn’t have it. The men wouldn’t even consider subdividing, each taking a slice. Because, yes, they’d border each other’s estates. And, apparently, they preferred to have mass quantities of acreage separating them.
Yet there had to be a reasonable solution.
Perhaps it was time Rogen found it.
* * *
“You realize you’re constructing a house of cards?” Bayli asked on a three-way videoconference call with Jewel and Scarlet on Thursday morning.
Ignoring the ominous warning for the moment, Jewel gazed past Bayli’s slender shoulder and said, “Please tell me that’s not your new apartment in the background?”
“Yippers, this is the one.” She flashed a bright smile, then informed them, “I’m scrubbing and disinfecting every square inch of it. Pretty disgusting, right? But a fresh coat of paint is cheaper than just about every other place I looked at. And I really don’t want to live in Hoboken. I need to be in Manhattan. This city has such an amazing vibe to it—I totally love it here!”
Scarlet said, “All well and good, but seriously, Bay. I think I see something crawling along the wall behind you.”
“Oh, yeah. That.” Bayli shrugged. She was a gorgeous tawny-eyed brunette hoping to spark her flailing modeling career. She was a year younger than Jewel and Scarlet, but the three had been friends most of their lives. This was the first time the girls had truly been separated.
Bayli said, “If I could get the cockroaches sharing my space to pay rent, I’d let the little suckers live.” She reached for something out of the screenshot of her propped-up tablet and then moved back into place. Holding up a can of Raid, she added, “Give me a week and this place will be completely bug-free. I’m spraying everything! The inner and outer door frames, all the baseboards, the garbage chute down the main hall. I promise, I will prevail!”
Her enthusiasm couldn’t be contained.
Meanwhile, Jewel’s spirits plummeted. “I offered you a loan, Bay.”
“One I can’t pay back, Jewel.”
“Then don’t pay it back.” Jewel knew her friend was flat broke. The plane ticket to Newark, the shuttle ride into the city, the rent and deposit, and bare necessities were about all she could afford at this point.
