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“I’m not dumping him in the ocean.” Remy sounds as aghast by the idea as I feel about it. “You think I want bits of him floating in the water so that every time I go for a swim, I have to think about him?”
“Well, I don’t want him!” Rhea snaps.
“Fine.” Remy shrugs. “We’ll put him on the mantle back home.”
Rhea considers that a moment, and then she breaks into a grin. “I was thinking of doing a little bit of maintenance there, you know? Fresh paint inside and out.”
“Let me guess,” I glance around like I’m trying really hard to think of what color she would possibly want to paint her family home. “Are you, by chance, thinking yellow?”
“Why, Claire!” Rhea teases. “It’s like you know me.”
“Just a little,” I laugh.
It’s mad, what we’re doing. Sitting here acting like the three of us haven’t had the most fucked up week ever. My head is still spinning with all of it. Literally spinning.
A wave of dizziness washes over me, so I grip the counter in front of me to keep from getting a little too faint. It doesn’t go unnoticed… not by Rhea, whose lips pull down in concern, not by Remy who moves behind me like he means to catch me if I fall, and not by Elaine, who walks back into the kitchen at that exact moment and takes one look at me before commanding me to sit.
Chapter twenty-five
Remy
Claire gets control of herself before she can fall, but I’m already catching her under the arm so that I can ensure she stays standing upright. Elaine tells her to sit, but sitting on a barstool while she’s feeling faint is probably not the best idea, so I guide her to the dining room and pull a chair out for her.
“I’m fine.” She says, attempting to wave me off. The kitchen is close enough that Rhea only has to poke her head around the corner to see her, but she’s standing directly over my shoulder. “Just… tired.”
Something about the way she says the word makes me think she isn’t being completely honest. I just don’t know if she’s lying to us or to herself. “It’s been quite the week.” Elaine says, shaking her head. “Should I make a fresh pot of coffee?”
“No!” Claire says quickly. Her intensity doesn’t go unnoticed, but none of us say anything as her cheeks turn pink and she seems to search for the right words. “I think I’m just a little dehydrated. After all that we drank last night and then walking on the beach this morning…”
Elaine makes a move, presumably to get her a drink, but stops when Claire asks me to get her a bottle of water. She’s definitely trying to dismiss me, and she doesn’t even bother looking at me as she does. It’s strange after everything last night. When she threw me up against the wall to tell me to go after Wes, I’d thought there was a spark between us just waiting to be rekindled. Now she won’t even look at me.
I push to stand and get her a bottle of water from the fridge, suddenly feeling chastised. It’s not the fact that she doesn’t want me near that bothers me—it’s the way she’s treating me like an errand boy in my own house. This time, I avoid her gaze when I pass her the water, and I don’t give her an answer when she says, ‘thank you’.
If Claire wants space from me, she will get it. I have business to attend to anyway. Elaine and Rhea can finish getting everything prepped for tonight, for the morbid party I never wanted to attend, much less host. It feels wrong to parade my father’s business associates, his victims, and his equally predatory friends through my house while we all pretend like there’s a single person left on this Earth who feels sad that he’s gone.
I’ve just slipped my phone from my pocket when it rings.
Dimitri.
Sometimes I swear he’s in tune with me so much that I have to wonder whether he watches me in my own home for the hell of it. “Are you secretly obsessed with me?” I tease, trying not to let any of my disappointment over Claire’s disinterest in me bleed into my tone. It doesn’t sound as light as I want it to, but it serves the purpose all the same. I know it’s not me he’s obsessed with—I caught him stealing glances at Rhea all throughout dinner last night. I’m hoping that he never feels the need to bring it up. The girls will be back in the states soon, and then both of our problems will be solved.
Dimitri snorts. “I think you’re trying to make me be.” He says. “You’ve ignored me all morning.”
“I was busy.”
“Yeah, sure,” he laughs. “I thought you may want to know; I have a friend in Amsterdam.”
“Good for you.” I say. “But you should know, if you have to pay for their services, they aren’t a friend.”
It’s a bad joke. I cringe as soon as I speak the words, knowing how quickly he can turn brooding and sulky when I get too close to sensitive subjects. “Noted.” His voice is dry, but not angry. I’m grateful for that as he continues. “Davos hopped on his private jet last night about midnight.”
“Midnight his time or midnight our time?” I’m not sure it matters, and I don’t feel like doing the math anyway.
“She just said midnight. You know he doesn’t come out of hiding all that often.”
“No,” I agree, “he doesn’t.”
“I assume we’ll be seeing him tonight. I’ve taken the liberty of increasing the security both around the perimeter and in the fold.”
