Trey’s Porsche SUV was trundling up the driveway thirty minutes early, which meant two things—as usual, he’d broken the speed limits to get here, but this time, he’d managed to avoid the highway patrol. He ran three restaurants and a high-end nightclub in San Francisco, and he liked to visit for a tasting each year, always staying for a week with a stunning blonde, but never the same one. They’d booked Beldi, a relief because Nolan was still sleeping in the guest wing and Trey was never quiet. Fernanda looked after the changeovers, and the cottage was ready and waiting.
This year’s blonde was actually a redhead named Charlie, who gushed over the scenery and the decor and Juno before Nolan managed to escape into the house. Alexa was still awake, despite staying up for most of the night scheming.
“Do you need more coffee?” Nolan asked her.
She’d ordered a desk, but it had come flat-packed and there was a leg missing. While Chase organised the return and redelivery, Alexa had taken over the study, her four screens and three laptops set up on the huge old desk. This morning, a crew had shown up to talk about hardwiring a faster internet connection, but they didn’t look as though they were with the telecoms company. Their van was plain white, they wore black, and at least one of them had been carrying a gun. Alexa had greeted them like old friends.
She’d agreed to be “open and honest,” but Nolan suspected she was still holding back on the “open” part.
Still, he’d take whatever he could get.
“No, I’m going to sleep in a minute. Everything for the security system is ordered, and it’ll be here tomorrow.”
“You’re not putting cameras inside the house.”
“Blah, blah, blah. You said that last time, and then there was a murder.”
“There are only three of us living here, and I’m assuming Chase isn’t into ritual killings?”
“Of course not.”
“And you can’t film the guest accommodation either. There are rules about that.”
“Rules, schmules.”
“Alexa…”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“What about installation?”
“It’s solar-powered and wireless. Chase is good on a ladder.”
Nolan kissed her forehead. “Sleep well. For what it’s worth, I think you might be right about Marielle. She just told me you were an attention-seeker, and I figure there’s some projection going on.”
“I have another designer lined up for when she’s gone.”
“From Sacramento?”
“From San Francisco.”
“They’ll travel here?”
“They will for me. I still have a twenty percent stake in the firm.” Alexa’s lips curved into a sly smile. “My father’s business wasn’t the only one I took down. Rockwell Interiors was a practice run.”
“What did you do? Drain the bank accounts?”
“Nope. I found twelve young, hungry, talented designers and paid their college tuition on the condition that when they graduated, they came to work for a brand-new firm in San Francisco. They outshone Mom in every way, and when they bid against her on a job—I made sure that happened a lot—they undercut her prices enough that they always won the contract. It took two years, but her company went under, and with Dad’s business in trouble, he couldn’t bail her out. Chase had to buy the champagne because I hadn’t turned twenty-one yet.”
“Damn. Talk about playing the long game.”
“I’m not always impatient. And once Mom’s goose was well and truly cooked, I signed over eighty percent of the shares in North of Market to the team. They deserved it.”
So she’d put her mother down by lifting others up. Alexa could be a renegade, and Nolan didn’t doubt she crossed a few lines as well as paying lip service to societal norms, but he felt admiration for the woman she’d become. He knew what it was like to fall headlong into a family nightmare, and hers had lasted longer than his. At least his mom had gotten them the hell out of Washington as soon as his father was charged with multiple homicide. She’d always claimed she had no idea about her husband’s proclivities, and although many didn’t believe her, especially in the media, Nolan had always come to her defence. What choice did he have? Without her, he would have been in foster care, and if the FBI had decided to charge her as an accessory, she’d never have survived prison. Shara Calder had been a homebody, almost too kind, no match for his father’s stronger personality.
The complete opposite of Alexa.
His Alexa.
