Prince Albert: A Billionaire Stepbrother Romance (32 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DELANEY

"It's strange that the guesthouse needed fumigated," Anja says.  "And so suddenly, too."

I look up at Gaige, and he winks at me, but my father and stepmother fail to notice.  Anja seems to be cutting microscopic-sized slices off the edge of her chicken breast and my father is similarly focused on his meal.  There's obvious tension between them; I wonder how long they've been having problems.

"Termites," Gaige says, and I glare at him through narrowed eyes.  The liar.  "It's a good thing I noticed."

"We should probably have the main house checked for them, too," my father says, and I give Gaige a look.  I can't believe he's faking termites just to get himself into the room next to me.  He's obviously a crazy person.

"I already had the guy do it," Gaige says.  "There are no problems with the main house."

"Well, thank you, Gaige.  You're really on top of things."

Anja laughs, the sound bitter.  "On top of a termite issue," she says, her voice sharp.  "Useless in every other way."

I swallow hard.  I don't remember her being so...mean...to Gaige before.

"Anja, that's uncalled for," my father says, his tone warning.

"It's okay," Gaige says.  "Not all of us have the luxury of attending luncheons instead of working."

I clear my throat, trying to cut through the tension in the room.  But I don't have anything to say.  Luckily, my father saves me, quickly changing the subject.

"Vegas," he says.  "Was it productive?"

Great.  He saves me by asking the worst question ever.  I definitely don't want to hear about Gaige's Vegas exploits.

Anja snorts.  "Speaking of not working," she says.  "I don't know when partying at a Vegas nightclub started to count as work."

"I feel the same way about being a human clothes hanger," Gaige says.

Anja sniffs.  "Modeling involves skill," she says.  She sips clear liquid from a crystal tumbler that's obviously not water, and I'm pretty sure she's half in the bag already.

"Fortunately, being a washed up model involves no skill at all," Gaige says.

"Gaige," my father warns.  He doesn't look at Anja.  He's unhappy; I can see the dark circles under his eyes, and the lines that crease his face, deeper than a few years ago.  He's aged, and I wonder why I didn't notice it before.

"That's right.  Take his side," Anja says, standing.  She places a hand on the table to steady herself when she wobbles, but picks up her glass, bringing it to her mouth and taking a sip.  Her eyes are unfocused, but she narrows them when she looks at Gaige.  "He's your investment, after all.  Always protecting your investments, even the ones who are as useless as Gaige."

I inhale sharply, looking at Gaige, whose face is ashen.  My father stands quickly, puts his hand on Anja's arm.  "Anja," he says.  "Perhaps you'd like to lie down."

She jerks her arm from his grasp.  "Don't talk to me like a child," she says.  She turns toward me and I hold my breath.  "I see the way he looks at you, you know."

"Why don't you go dry out, Mother," Gaige's voice is hard, and he doesn't look at me, but I can see his fist clenched, his knuckles white.

But she continues, turning toward me, her voice slurring.  "Don't think you can fool anyone," she says.  "I see you looking at Gaige, too.  He'll go through you like --"

My eyes are wide as my father cuts her off, his face red.  "That's enough, Anja," he says, taking her arm.  She jerks away from him, glass in hand and stumbles out of the doorway.  My father turns toward us, shaking his head.  "I apologize for her behavior."

He follows behind her, and Gaige and I sit in silence for a minute before we hear their voices, echoing through the other end of the house, before the door slams closed.

"Well."  After that, I don't really know what to say.  Other than that this is really fucking awkward.  Gaige doesn't even look at me.  He just stares at his plate.  What she said about us -- about the way Gaige looks at me, the way I look at him -- runs through my head, but I put it aside, more concerned about Gaige.  Anja might have been critical before, but now she's just awful.  "What she said about --"

"Don't worry, Delaney," he says, his voice bitter.  "She's drunk.  Obviously you and I aren't looking at each other like that."

"Gaige, that's not what I -"

But Gaige stands up, pushes his chair back from the table, and walks out of the room, without even a second glance at me.

Damn it.
  That's not what I was going to say.  I was going to say that what Anja said about him being useless wasn't true.

I sit in the dining room by myself, staring at my plate, until the cook, Deborah, enters the room.  "Is everything okay?"

"Huh?"  I ask.  "Oh.  Yes.  Everything's fine."

"With the food?  It's okay?"

"Yes."  I nod.  "I don't think any of us are very hungry tonight."

Upstairs in my room, I open my book again, then play with my phone, but the whole time I'm wondering what Gaige is doing next door.  It's silent.  Maybe he went out somewhere; I didn't hear the front door, but this place is so big, he could have left and I wouldn't have known.

I tap my finger absently on the screen of my phone, until I just can't take it anymore.  I can't just sit here and pretend like nothing just happened.  If I were Gaige, I'd be pissed off.  And hurt.

I grab a piece of paper and a pen.  I hesitate for a moment before I put the pen on the paper, then just do it. 
Pool?
  I write.  Then I walk over to Gaige's room and slide it under his door and sit back down in my room with my novel.

It's a few minutes before the piece of paper floats under the door, and I bend down to pick it up before opening the door.  Gaige stands there, that cocky grin on his face, and I look down at the paper.

I knew you wanted me.

I roll my eyes.  I should have known Gaige would take my note that way.  We made out that summer by the pool.  But it was also the place we talked.  "Oh my God, I was feeling bad about what happened," I say.  "I should have known nothing gets you down."

Gaige shrugs.  He's still smiling, but his eyes aren't.  "No big deal."

"What do you mean, no big deal?"  I ask.  "What Anja said was completely uncalled for."

"So this swim," he says, ignoring me.  "Will it be naked?"

I groan.  "Seriously, is that all you can think about?"

"It's a simple question, Delaney," he says. "Clothed or non-clothed?"

"Never mind.  You can go sit in your room by yourself."

Gaige exhales heavily.  "Whatever.  Let's go."

Outside, we sit with a six-pack of beer, just like we used to do, leaning against the grotto by the pool.  It all feels familiar, like we're stepping right back into the place we were four years ago, as if no time has passed at all.  And yet, there's part of me that feels like we're strangers, that so much has happened in the past few years there's no way I could possibly know Gaige anymore.

We sit in silence for a long time before I speak.  "What your mom said about you wasn't true, you know."

Gaige shrugs.  "I've been pretty worthless the past few months, with this fucking injury anyway."

"What happened?"

"I was screwing around, doing stunts on the bike," he says.

"So how's that any different from normal?"  I ask.  "You were always doing that stuff."

He shrugs again and takes a sip of his beer.  "Nothing," he says.  "Just lost control of the back wheel and spun out.  It happens.  Your father was fucking pissed off, though.  It was right before this big race, and I busted my leg, so I was out.  He read me the riot act."

"I can see that."  My father is a businessman, and I can tell that he considers Gaige a colleague as well as a son.  He'd see any extra-curricular shit Gaige pulled as being a bad business decision, even if it's this kind of stuff that makes Gaige popular.  Stupid stunts, bar fights, dating B-grade celebrities.  Basically, acting like a rock star.

"Yeah, well," he says.  "Your father knew what he was getting when he bought the team."

"Yes," I laugh, shaking my head.  "That much is definitely true."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means my father knows what to expect," I say.  "He can't really get pissed off at you for doing shit that's part of who you are.  He signed onto the brand."

"Fuck, that's what I said."

"I agree with you," I say.

Gaige is silent for a minute, then he looks at me, his face thoughtful.  "Your father was smart, putting you on me."

"What do you mean?"

"You're handling me," he says.

"I'm not handling you."

"Yeah you are," he says, giving me this look that tells me he can see straight through my bullshit.  "It's okay, though.  I don't mind it from you.  I never did, you know."

"I don't think anyone could ever handle you, Gaige."

Gaige takes a long pull on his beer, studying me carefully.  I feel naked under his gaze and I look away.  "You had a way of doing it, you know."

I change the subject. "When do you get to take the boot off?"

"Next week.  Before we leave for Japan, thank God.  Traveling with this thing would be no fun at all."

"So I'll have to wait to skinny dip with you until after next week," I joke. 
Oh my God, I don't know why I just said that.
  After I was the one getting on him for making everything an innuendo.

"Are you kidding?" he asks.  "I'd rip this boot off in a fucking heartbeat, break my own damn leg again myself if it meant I got to see you naked."

I laugh.  "Very funny."

"You don't think I'm serious?" he asks, shaking his head.

I take another sip of my beer.  "That's the problem," I say.  "That does sound exactly like something you'd do."

We sit in awkward silence again, all of the unspoken stuff hanging between us.  It's one thing to joke around and flirt with Gaige, but another thing entirely to be sitting here the same way we used to.  He hands me another beer.

"Your mom didn't used to be like this, did she?" I ask.

"You mean, a drunk?" he says.  "You didn't notice before?"

I shake my head.  "Am I blind or something?  She never seemed like it."

Gaige takes a long pull off his beer.  "Nope," he says.  "Pretty par for the course.  That summer we were here she was in a better mood, since her and Beau had gotten married."

"I feel..." My voice trails off.  I don't know quite how I feel, actually.  About anything.  But about Gaige most of all.

"Bad for your dad?" Gaige asks.

"He doesn't look happy."

"Nope," Gaige says.  "Would you be happy, if you were him?"

"I'm so sorry, Gaige."  But I find myself tongue-tied, unable to say what I'm sorry for.  I'm sorry for the way your mom treats you.  I'm sorry for the way I left things between us.

"It is what it is, darlin'," he says, finally turning to look at me.  The lights, dim around the pool, make the golden flecks in his eyes stand out even more.  He looks at me for a long minute, then drains the rest of his beer and starts undoing his boot.  "Fuck it," he says.

"What are you doing?"  I ask, swallowing hard as he pulls his shirt over his head.  Once he's shirtless, his bare tattoo-covered chest covered right in front of my face, I can't help but look at it.

Gaige catches me obviously staring, and grins.  "Come on, darlin'," he says.  "Jump in."

"Put your clothes back on," I hiss.  "Someone's going to see you."

Gaige shrugs.  "So what?" he asks, unbuttoning his pants.  I avert my eyes, focusing straight ahead.  It seems somehow indecent to just stare at him, to watch him undress like he's some kind of stripper.  "You think our parents are up and around in the house?  This isn't the first time something like this has happened.  My mother gets drunk, makes a scene.  They go to their room and argue or whatever, who knows.  Have makeup sex."

"Eew, Gaige, gross."  I glance at him out of the corner of my eye.  He's standing there in his boxer briefs. 
I'm not going to look at him,
I tell myself.  I'm not going to look at
it
.  This is not what I had in mind when I asked him to come out to the pool.  I was just going to talk to him, that's all.

"That's what every guy wants to hear when he's standing in front of a girl naked," he says.

"I was referring to our parents having sex.  Wait.  You're naked?"  I look up, and he's still wearing his briefs.

He grins widely.  "Made you look."

"Asshole."

"Cocktease," he says, and walks slowly over to the pool.

"Why am I a cocktease?"  I yell after him, but he ignores me, so I stand up and follow him over to the pool.

"Water's nice," he says.  His feet are in the water, and at least he's still got his boxers on.  That's something.  If he stripped off everything and got buck naked...