Page 2 of Blood and Trouble

“His name is Scott Fitzgerald IV, Seventh Earl of Pembrook,” I explained. “He and I used to date, once upon a time. It’s been over for a while.”

I didn’t have a long list of ex-lovers like Maeve, nor did I routinely let other people into my heart. I had too much to do—law school and the family business and millions of things to accomplish. Scott had wanted something more serious than I was willing to give.

Everyone else on this trip had been a stranger I could out-prepare, some name on an agenda with a title next to it that I could sweet-talk into whatever I needed. Scott knew me. He’d call me Lonnie and reminisce about summers spent on yachts in the south of France. He’d make it personal, and I had a hard time with anything personal.

You have to do more. Fix it. Get him to sign.

Everything they have left is sitting on you.

“He looks like a douche,” Lycan said, dismissing Scott to turn back toward the skyline. He grabbed two glasses of champagne off a tray as a server passed by and handed one to me.

I sighed and turned toward him, exhaling the weight of the long evening ahead.

“He’s got four generations of a name attached to grids and licenses that Vanderbilt would have a difficult time getting,” I said. “He’s the key to securing our global expansion.”

Lycan looked at me with curiosity. “What’s the problem?”

“Securing his partnership is a big deal,” I said, “and I know when I walk in there, he’s going to call me his stupid little pet name and pretend like nothing ever happened between us and we’re still old friends. I don’t do personal, not like this. Anyone gets too close, and I just…” I didn’t know how to explain. Anytime it got personal, I shoved them away. I didn’t let people get close because I didn’t trust anyone besides myself (and maybe Maeve), and Scott knew too much to make this a fair fight. “I needed a moment to get my head on straight. That’s all.”

Lycan hummed and nodded. “Is that his wife next to him?”

“The one currently forty months pregnant with their fourth child? Yes. Bea. She was friends with Maeve and me at boarding school.” I gulped another big swallow of alcohol and thanked God for liquid courage. I’d need all the help I could get.

“She looks like you,” he said.

Up until this point, I had purposely ignored that obvious fact. She had the same long black hair, the same bright blue eyes, the same curvaceous figure. I hadn’t wanted to admit to myself that there might still be something there on his part. What did it matter if there was? He’d gone off and married the heiress to a massive oil fortune, and I’d gone to law school, and we’d left the past where it was—bygones, and all that rot.

“You’re prettier,” he whispered, but quickly added, “Not that it’s a competition. I’m a girl’s girl, after all, and cutting down other women for the sake of male attention is beneath someone of my stature.”

A chuckle raced up my throat before I could stop it.

“But you’re also smarter,” he added, “and sharper. And if you wanted, you could probably have Scott Fitzgerald IV, Seventh Earl of Douchebags, calling you Mommy, too.”

“Stop it,” I hissed, trying to compose myself.

“C’mon.” He nudged me with his shoulder. “You’re Avalon Vanderbilt the First. Queen bitch of Helena, Montana. You’ve walked into boardrooms with guys more powerful than him and had them eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“Yes, but now it’s personal,” I said. “A sizeable deal with his company would get us out of this massive hole from losing the ranch. He’s got grid rights nobody’s built on since his grandfather. We could use that to our advantage.”

Lycan tilted his head to look over his shoulder one last time before standing up.

“If you say so.” He finished his champagne and placed the glass on an end table before reaching out to take mine. “Just play along, right?”

I furrowed my brows, but before I could ask any clarifying questions, he straightened his jacket and nodded toward the doors, gesturing for me to go ahead of him. I smoothed my hands down my little black dress and walked inside, trying not to stiffen as his palm landed on my lower back. Since we’d been here, I could count the number of times he’d touched me on five fingers, and all of those had been accidental.

This was intentional. A claiming. A territory grab.

“Ava!” Bea beamed and pulled me into a hug over her baby bump, leaning in to kiss my cheeks. “You look lovely.”

“Bea,” I said and returned the greeting. “Good to see you. Pregnancy agrees with you.”

She rubbed her belly and smiled. “After three boys, Scott’s aching for a girl.”

I forced my grin tighter and turned to my ex. “Scott. It’s wonderful to see you.”

“You, too, Lonnie.” He opened his arms for a hug, and I leaned in, wincing at the nickname. His Lonnie had been naive and pliable, willing to do just about anything for him, except give him her future. Avalon Vanderbilt had hardened into stone. Steady and unshakeable, cut from the same marble as her father. “You remember Pierre?”

Scott gestured to the older man next to him, the CEO of Joyeaux International.