by Nadia Lee
“I’ll go ahead and pack too,” Ginger was saying, and he forced a smile.
“Take your time. Ask for help if you need anything.”
“Okay.” She nodded and went upstairs.
Once she was gone from view, he shoved a hand into his hair and dropped onto a couch. When he’d decided to go home, it had seemed like the most logical thing to do. Ginger was obviously worried about the reason—reasons?—he’d left, and he wanted to prove to her it was nothing. And to do that he had to remember.
But the two memories that had come back to him had been ugly. His father was a nasty piece of work, and he… He himself wasn’t that much better.
He dragged in a shuddering breath. He’d dated other women after kicking Ginger out in Johannesburg. He hadn’t been able to sleep with them or anything—there was a wrongness that made him unable to do anything—but shouldn’t he have remembered something about the fact that he was engaged? Shouldn’t he have realized he was doing the same shit his father did when he’d wined and dined those women?
His gaze swiveled to the stairs. Had he ever cheated on Ginger? Had he ever hurt her, made her cry or suffer?
Maybe there was more to Ginger’s reluctance than just the way he’d disappeared. That might be why she kept telling him they couldn’t go back to what they used to be until he remembered everything.
He pressed his fists against his knees. He wouldn’t let her go. She was his. He’d fight for her with everything he had, and by any means, fair or foul.
Chapter Eight
A black SUV took them to the private jet that had brought Ginger to Thailand. She raised her eyebrows; she’d assumed Dane had called it back. Had he been that confident she could bring Shane home?
They boarded quietly. The inside of the jet was luxurious with creamy beige leather on the seats and gleaming faux-marble and wood finishes on the fixtures. A pretty cabin attendant smiled and greeted them.
As she sat next to him, waiting for the jet to take off, Ginger wasn’t sure what was going on with his mood. He’d seemed upbeat and happy until he’d started packing. Now he was brooding.
He’d deny it of course. Shane was very, very good at denying how he really felt because that was how he coped with his dysfunctional family. Some of his siblings were nice, like Mark and Vanessa, but some of them like Dane and Iain were nasty and cold, respectively. Then there were his father and mother, who had to have married specifically to make each other as miserable as possible. They rarely seemed to care how their behavior affected their family. Ginger sometimes felt like she couldn’t even breathe around them, and she’d only spent a few holidays with the whole family. She still couldn’t understand how Shane had lived most of his life with them.
“You’re frowning,” Shane said.
“I’m thinking.”
“What are you plotting?”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Just…” If she’d told him everything about her thoughts he might just decide to stay at the beach house forever. “I just don’t like takeoffs.” Which was true, just not the thing that was bugging her the most.
“How come?”
“I heard that the chances of crashing are greatest during takeoff and landing.”
He chuckled softly. “Is that true or some kind of urban legend?”
“Probably true,” she said primly.
He reached over and linked their fingers together. “Better?”
She turned toward him, her eyes wide. The gesture was unexpectedly sweet, like he used to make when they’d been together. The engine roared as the plane picked up speed. Her fingers tightened, and he leaned close and covered her mouth with his.
The contact sent a shockwave through her system. It was like being pulled into a maelstrom of irresistible heat and delicious sensation. Need pulsed through her, her heart pounding. And underneath the sexual want was a sense of completion—she was with the man who was created just for her. And she clung to that feeling, trying to forget everything else that had been bugging her.
She clutched the back of his neck and pulled him closer. He kissed her hard and deep like they hadn’t just pleasured each other only hours before. He thrust with his tongue, and she pulled it in, sucking it and loving his aggression. The spot on her chest where he’d spurted tingled, and she clenched her thighs, the emptiness between them aching.
The PA system pinged, and the pleasant voice of the cabin attendant announced that the jet had reached cruising altitude.
Ginger blinked and drew back to her seat, her sensitive mouth parted and swollen. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Shane pulled his lips in like he wanted to savor a final taste.
Her gaze slid to the stateroom in the back. The Pryce family jet had a king-size bed and a shower in there.
Her phone buzzed. She looked down, her face still hot. “Jeez. I forgot to turn it off.”
“Who cares? It’s a perk of flying private. You can do whatever you want,” Shane said.
She glanced at him sharply. That was something he’d used to say. Quickly she forced a smile. “Yeah, you’re right.” There was a text waiting for her from a number she didn’t recognize. It read:
A deposit has been made to your account. Mr. Dane Pryce asked me to tell you that you’ve done well.
It must be from his assistant. There was also an email from her bank, informing her of the incoming money. She raised her eyebrows. It was far too much, even if he was paying for almost five times the money she would’ve normally made for half the year. She quickly wrote: It’s too much.
A moment later, another reply came. Consider it a bonus. Mr. Pryce is pleased with your progress.
She pressed her lips together. Just like Dane to reduce everything to money, like it was the only motivation.
Her coming out here had probably made him believe she was in it for financial gain. And she couldn’t lie that finances were a part of the equation since he’d threatened to ruin her freelance career if she didn’t cooperate. But she also had a line she wouldn’t cross, no matter what anybody promised.
“What’s wrong? You look like you just saw a leech,” Shane said.
She laughed at the description. “You know, I think I just did.” She put the phone back in her purse, then pushed all thoughts of Dane aside. There was no reason why she should let him put her in a crabby mood.
None.
* * *
Shane hadn’t expected anybody to come to the airport—he hadn’t told anyone he was coming home. His plan was to have a car pick them up and go to his place. His family’s concierge service had set up a romantic dinner for two on the balcony, and toward the end of their dinner he’d give Ginger the ring back. He’d considered giving it to her in Thailand as soon as it’d arrived, but it seemed better to do it properly and romantically, just the way all women dreamed of. The concierge had promised it’d be perfect, and Ginger might be even overcome with joy and cry.
Heh, he thought with a small grin. She didn’t have to cry. Just being happy would be good enough. He didn’t remember how he’d proposed, but hopefully the second time would be just as memorable as the first.
But the moment he stepped off the plane, a horde of extremely well-dressed people mobbed him. The women among them were expensively perfumed as well. He stared at the madhouse, wondering what the hell was going on.
“Shane, Shane!” the oldest person from the group hugged him. Her scent was familiar although he couldn’t quite place it. Despite her age, she was beautiful, her skin flawless, her bones delicate and elegantly formed. A black Chanel dress on her made her look like she was attending a funeral, but she wore a big smile on her face. “It’s so good to have you back home.”
“Yeah, man.” A tall dark man slapped his shoulder. The man next to him nodded. They bore a very strong resemblance to each other, and a somewhat weaker one to him, possessing the classic features that Shane saw every time he looked in the mirror.
Iain and Mark. Dane was probably lurking in
the background, thinking of something obnoxious to say. A woman with bright red hair hugged him from behind. “I knew you’d be back,” she said against his back, her voice muffled. “I just knew you wouldn’t stay away forever.” She sniffled.
“Don’t mind her. She’s pretty emotional right now,” Mark said. “Transitioning from first to second trimester.”
“Don’t you dare try to reduce me to hormones,” Vanessa said, wiping away tears.
“Yeah, listen to her, Mark.” Another redhead, this one natural, put a hand on Mark’s forearm. A huge diamond ring winked from her finger. She was curvy and dressed to show off her figure. A confident woman. Shane liked that. “I’m Hilary Rosenberg.”
“Soon to be my missus,” Mark said.
“I’m Jane, Iain’s fiancée.” A pretty brunette next to Iain extended a hand. It had several cuts and burns, as did the forearm behind it. “So nice to meet you, Shane. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Shane shook hands with her. She was warm and gentle, and Iain stood close, like a dragon guarding its pile of gold. She didn’t wear her ring on her finger. Instead it dangled from a platinum chain around her neck. “What do you do?” he asked.
“Personal chef,” she said. “Just getting started.”
“But very successful. She’s a genius in the kitchen,” Iain said. Her cheeks glowed rosily in response.
“So. Where’s the man who got you in that condition?” Shane asked Vanessa. She wasn’t showing yet, but he trusted Mark was right about her hormones.
“Justin’s on his way here. Work, as usual. He’s going to meet us at the restaurant.”
Shane blinked. “What restaurant?”
“Mine,” Mark said. “Éternité. It’s my latest, although it’s no longer all that new. You missed the grand opening.”
“He dedicated it to Hilary,” Vanessa said with a soft sigh. “Is that just romantic or what?”
“Am I even dressed right?” Shane asked. Unlike his family he was in a white short-sleeve button-down shirt and old, comfy khakis, and Ginger was in a sundress.
“The clothes don’t matter. You’re family.” She looped her arm around Shane’s. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He looked around, wondering where Ginger was. Finally he spotted her at the edge of the crowd. Nobody from his family tried to welcome her back, and she stood with her face politely blank. Annoyance scraped his nerve endings. Something told him she’d been snubbed before—probably by his family. They had no right to treat her like this. She was his fiancée.
“Excuse me,” he said, unhooking his arm from Vanessa’s. If his sister needed to lean on somebody to walk, she had plenty of people to choose from.
Shane went to Ginger and put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, apparently we’re invited to a family dinner.”
“Looks like it,” she agreed, her voice not revealing anything. She didn’t seem displeased, but that didn’t mean she was thrilled either, especially given how standoffish his family was being. “I should probably get a cab and go to my place.”
“Don’t. Come with me. We’re going to Éternité.” He linked his hand with hers. “If the food sucks, I’ll buy you dinner elsewhere. Anything you want.”
She shook her head. “It’s not going to suck. It’s one of the best restaurants in the country.”
“Have you been there before?”
“No, but it has a great reputation.”
He scowled. Mark should’ve invited her to the opening even if Shane hadn’t been in the country. Ginger was practically family. He forced himself to smile, while making a mental note to talk to his brother later. “Let’s go then. It’ll be even more delicious since it’s free.”
Her mouth curved into a reluctant grin. “All right. I’ll go.”
Chapter Nine
Iain and Jane had brought a large Mercedes, and they drove Shane and Ginger.
Shane shook his head at the atrocious traffic. “Are we going to make it to the restaurant before it closes?”
“They’ll wait for Mark. He’s the boss,” Iain said. He glanced at Shane in the rearview mirror. “So. I heard from Vanessa you don’t remember much.”
“Yeah. Some kind of head injury. But things are starting to come back.”
“That’s good.”
“So where’s Dad? Too busy to join us?”
Jane cleared her throat, and Iain said, “He’s probably not coming. Things are sort of awkward between him and Ceinlys. You heard about the divorce, right?”
“I remember some gossip rags mentioning it. So it’s true?”
“Oh yeah. She got one of the best lawyers in the state. She might even get something out of it, too.” When Shane frowned, Iain added, “Don’t you remember the prenup—the reason why she stayed with Dad for so long? She gets nothing if they divorce.”
“What if he divorces her?”
“Doesn’t matter. Still nothing for Mom.”
Shane recalled the nasty flashback. Why hadn’t Salazar divorced Ceinlys?
“Then there’s the whole thing with Vanessa.”
“What about her?” Shane asked. “Is she divorcing somebody too?”
Jane choked, and Iain laughed dryly. “No, she just got married. But…” He glanced briefly at Ginger.
“You can say it,” Shane spat. Why the hell was Iain acting like Ginger didn’t belong there? They’d been together longer than Iain and Jane. Shane was sure of it.
Iain sighed. “All right. It turned out she’s not Dad’s child.”
Ginger put a hand over her mouth. Shane squeezed the other one. “What the hell?” he said. “When did he find out?”
“He’s always known.”
“Why didn’t he say something?” Salazar had always made it clear to Shane he didn’t want more kids after Mark.
“You know dad. He said it didn’t matter if there was ‘an extra mouth’ to feed.”
Shane shook his head. What a dickhead thing to say, yet not that surprising given that it was his dad. “Did Vanessa know all along too?”
“No. She found out while she was pregnant. Talk about a nasty shock.”
Shane cursed.
“But she’s still our sister.”
Jane who’d been quiet all along turned around to face Shane. “It’ll mean a lot to her if you acted like nothing’s changed.”
“Of course,” Shane said. Vanessa had cried like he was everything in the world to her. He wasn’t going to look at her funny because she was a half-sister. She was lucky her dad wasn’t some screw-up like Salazar…then again, maybe he was. “So who’s her real dad?”
Iain grimaced. “Just some guy Mom had an affair with. He’s dead though, and Justin—Vanessa’s husband—isn’t too enthusiastic about getting close to her half-sister.”
“Why not?”
“Money. Justin has enough to fund a medium-sized war, and he’s a little leery of relatives no one knew existed popping up, especially when the relative says she needs financial help.”
Made sense. Shane would’ve felt the same way if Ginger suddenly acquired a lot of long-lost cousins with money trouble. A lot of people’s attitudes changed when they learned you had money. He’d experienced that himself after the accident, and it’d left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Okay, finally. Here we are,” Iain said.
Crisply dressed valets came over to open doors for everyone. One of them handed a ticket to Iain before taking the car away with an alacrity that felt foreign to Shane. Nobody moved that fast in the countries he’d been staying in.
Shane looked at the two-story building in front of him. The exterior was smooth white marble, with tinted, roving floodlights that produced swirls of color. The effect reminded him of weddings and, oddly, an aurora he’d seen on a BBC documentary a few months back. Swoopy letters spelled Éternité.
He took Ginger’s hand. “Nice.”
“French meets Japanese…or something like that,” Iain said as they walked inside. “I’m a food pleb.”
<
br /> Jane poked him with her elbow. “Didn’t you claim you were a discerning food critic when you were praising my braised lamb with mint sauce?”
“That was different. I know lamb. I doubt André is serving lamb in there.”
“You never know. It might be the seasonal special.” She turned to Shane and Ginger. “André started that recently to experiment and serve stuff that’s not on the regular menu. It’s been really popular so far.”
A maître d’ in a tux greeted them. “Your table’s ready.” He gestured, and a slim blonde in a black and white dress came out. The smile she directed at Iain and Jane was warm, but the one at Shane was inviting.
He merely put an arm around Ginger’s shoulders.
“This way, please,” the blonde said smoothly, leading them through the hall in the back.
The place was packed with people dressed like they were in competition for the “world’s most fashionable” title. Some of them had tried so hard, they ended up in the weirdest stuff Shane had ever seen…but it was probably considered avant-garde or some crap like that.
They climbed the stairs to the upper level. At the end of the hall was a spacious private room decorated with European and Asian antiques. “Nice,” Shane said, looking around. “Very chic.”
“Thanks,” Mark said, coming in with Hilary. Vanessa arrived with Ceinlys—they’d shared Ceinlys’s car—and everyone settled down at the round table. A few minutes later a tall man in a dark suit came in, his movements purposeful and dynamic. The first thing he did was to go to Vanessa and kiss her on the mouth. “How have you been?”
“Good,” she said with a smile as he took a seat next to her. “Shane, my husband Justin. You remember him?”
Shane shook his head. “Sorry. It seems unfair that you guys all know everything about me, but I don’t know anything about you.”
“That’s not true,” Hilary said, opening the wine menu. “I know nothing about you.”
“Me either,” Jane said.
“Is Dane coming?” Mark asked.
“I invited him,” Ceinlys said.
There were various winces and scowls around the table.
