And he looks at him like he’s seeing a ghost.
Which is when it occurs to me, in his mind, he is.
Nicholas squeezes my arm as we make our way toward them. Teddy follows his father’s glare in Nicholas’s direction. He does a double take. Then he turns toward me, his eyes scanning my legs and dress and my hair. I know there are a lot of women who may findhim good-looking. But the way he is unabashedly eyeing me makes me certain that no one knows that better than he does.
What’s almost worse than his unapologetic lasciviousness is what’s lingering behind that gaze, behind his eyes, which are bloodshot and vacuous. Something like an emptiness—a blankness. It makes me eager to turn away from him, but I don’t let myself. I will not be the one to blink first.
Frank, meanwhile, is still locked onto Nicholas.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Frank says.
“Happy Birthday, Frank…”
“I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Frank says. “On account of the fact that you’re supposed to be dead.”
“Yeah. Sorry for the confusion there.”
Frank laughs, soft and genuine. But he is still staring at Nicholas, confused. And I think they’re going to shake hands, but Frank leans in and holds Nicholas to him, the hug of longtime friends. Of brothers.
Frank pulls back, and the two men hold eyes—neither of them wanting to break. Until Frank turns, nods in my direction.
“And this must be Hannah…”
I nod. Even though Frank isn’t asking. He knows who I am. But if he wonders what I’m doing here, he doesn’t let on. He is too focused on what Nicholas is doing here—Nicholas, who he believed was lost to him.
Everyone else seems to be wondering too—about Nicholas and maybe about me. They’re also less invested in hiding their confusion than Frank is. Teddy is still eyeing me. The conversations nearby lowering to a softer din, the security guards moving in closer.
In my periphery, I see a woman heading toward us from where she was holding court a few feet away.
Quinn. She is dressed in a red pantsuit, chunky Christian Louboutinheels, her blond hair pulled back in a low bun. She is elegant and striking at once. Those heels adding even more inches to her six-foot-tall frame.
She has disengaged from the conversation she was in, to move closer to us. To be standing by Frank’s side. Quinn now on one side of him, Teddy on the other. The two of them flanking their father. The guards right behind them.
“What the hell is going on here?” she says.
“Nice to see you too, Quinn,” Nicholas says.
But Nicholas doesn’t look at Quinn when he says it. He doesn’t look at Teddy or at Quinn. He keeps his eyes firmly on Frank.
“Nicholas,” Quinn says. “Care to explain yourself?”
“You should really feel free to go first,” Nicholas says. “You and Teddy here…”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Teddy asks.
Frank puts his hand on his son’s arm, silencing him. “Let’s find a better place to have this discussion, yeah?”
“That’s your call, Frank,” Nicholas says. “But you should probably know, we’re on a clock.”
“A clock?” Frank asks.
“The local police know we’re here,” Nicholas says. “And while it’s safe to assume you’re not particularly worried about the municipal police in Èze…”
“I wouldn’t say so, no.”
“That’s fair,” Nicholas says. “But I imagine that this little party cost you somewhere north of seven figures. And you don’t want half a dozen officers barging in here and turning it into a scene.”
Frank lets out a small laugh, as if this is all an irritation. But I see something behind it that he is trying to hide. His anger. And something else. Something I can’t properly put my finger on yet.
