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“Should I remind you Dad won’t be here to blow the horn if I decide to bust you up?”
Nonplussed, Thomas points at the plane’s ceiling. “The fastened seatbelts sign is on. I’m sure you don’t want to delay the take-off with a brawl.”
As if on cue, the plane begins to move down the runway.
“I’m still waiting for that name.” Menace laces my tone.
Thomas seems more amused than scared. “Did you forget Mom taught us to always say please?”
“Name. Please.”
Thomas scoffs. “That was too easy. Love has made you soft.”
My eyes widen. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not in love. I barely know her.”
Thomas studies me again, serious for once. “And yet…”
I break eye contact, staring out the window again as the plane takes off. And yet…
* * *
By the time we land in Jackson Hole, I’ve completed extensive research on Justin Trémaux, Blake’s ex according to Thomas.
Disturbing fact number one, he’s now head of trading at Fidelity Credit Union. And he was already working there when the bank financed my A round and blackmailed my father, explaining how Blake knew about it.
Disturbing fact number two, more of a speculation, really. But from the way Blake is so guarded about even accepting an invite to dinner, I suspect he must’ve pulled a serious number on her.
There’s nothing public about their relationship, and my brother couldn’t tell me anything more than that he has it on good authority they dated for over three years. Why the tryst ended and who ended it remain two mysteries.
Disturbing fact number three, this Justin fella looks nothing like me. If someone like him—blond, blue-eyed, clean-shaven—is Blake’s type, I’m toast. I mean, the guy looks like such a cliché. I thought Blake would go for someone more interesting…
“Are you disembarking?” Thomas asks, breaking into my thoughts. “Or do you plan to sit there brooding all day?”
I hadn’t even noticed the plane had stopped moving.
“I’m getting off,” I mutter, shoving the laptop into my carry-on bag. Once I’m on the ground, I’m going to find out everything I can about Justin Trémaux, and then I’ll decide if I should shake his hand or break his neck.
I put my shades on and exit the plane.
The sun bounces off the tall mountain peaks in the distance while Wyoming’s inland valleys are lush and green even in summer. With the air so fresh it stings my lungs, I feel like I’m taking a breath for the first time in years.
I’m not used to feeling uncertain about myself, and I don’t like it. I need to find out more about Blake’s past, and try to understand what about me puts her on edge.
I head to the car waiting for us on the taxiway, drop my carry-on in the trunk, and claim the driver’s seat. Thomas insisted on not having a driver, professing he would enjoy the private drive across the beautiful mountain scenery. But I know he’s just trying to spare me the anxiety of being driven around. He might act like an ass most of the time, but our bond is unbreakable. Our loyalty for each other unwavering.
I just hope the sat-nav works and we won’t get lost in the woods somewhere.
Thankfully, we don’t, even though the conference is being held in a large lodge in the middle of the forest—code for the middle of nowhere. Us billionaires sure like our privacy. A security detail at the gates of the property stops us, and the armed guards let us in only after carefully checking our IDs and invites. They seemed suspicious of the fact that we were driving ourselves. I wonder what Blake will do with all her claims of not being used to the bubble wrapping. Fly commercial? Catch a ride to the hotel in an Uber?
I park the car near the main resort building, a wood-and-glass structure three stories high with large walls overlooking the valley. Inside, everything is polished to perfection. Natural light filters in from the glass walls facing the mountains. While on the wooden ones at the back, a mix of rustic and modern art gives the place a touch of contemporary mixed in with the classic mountain décor of stag antlers and sheepskins. A large stone mantle dominates the lobby. Lit even in summer, the fireplace is already surrounded by chatting billionaires enjoying a late-afternoon drink of what must be an a-thousand-dollar-a-bottle Scotch.
Thomas and I get in line to check in, and while we wait, I scan the room to investigate if Blake has already arrived. But I spot no luscious black manes in the crowd—only a blond mop of hair attached to the face of her ex-boyfriend that I recognize from online pictures. Justin is laughing with a few pals, at ease in the posh environment as if he were born to be surrounded by luxury.
For all her talk of not liking people with money, she sure has a loaded-looking ex-boyfriend. Or is that peacock the reason why she’s crossed off all wealthy men? What did he do to her?
In person, Justin is possibly more attractive than on the internet—at least for a woman appreciative of a boy-band aesthetic. He has the appearance of a good boy, but something about him screams sleazeball to me.
Thomas pushes me from behind, nearly causing me to stumble.
