“Who should I tell her is calling?”
“Logan Bishop,” I say, hoping she’s kept up enough with what’s been happening on the island to know who I am. But then I think better of leaving it to chance. I need in the door. “I’m dating her daughter, Sawyer.”
“One moment,” he says, shutting the door in my face.
I turn around and survey the massive property, and I wonder how much wealth the Tuckers have in land alone. It’s an expensive commodity, since it’s so limited. I’ve heard the family even runs an oceanfront campground, which seems like such a waste of prime real estate.
The door opens, and I turn around. Instead of the butler, a petite woman stands on the threshold. Her dark hair must be dyed, but she’s aged incredibly well—almost to the point where I’d expect her to be Sawyer’s older sister rather than her mother. She doesn’t quite have that plastic feel that older people get when they’ve had a little too much work done.
“I’ve seen the videos of you and my daughter in arenas,” she says. “Those types of public displays aren’t to my taste, but they have certainly played well with the types of crowds you seem to attract.”
She says it in such a way that I’m positive it’s not a compliment. But honestly, she could think I was the dirt under her shoe, and I wouldn’t care as long as she can help me to keep Dalton away from Sawyer.
“Your daughter deserves to be treated like she’s important because she is. Very important. Themostimportant.”
Her blue eyes are piercing as they examine me. I’d even go so far as to call them calculating. “She doesn’t speak to me, you know.”
“I know,” I say.
“Come in,” she says. “I’m always intrigued when someone claims love and yet does something so contrary to that emotion.”
I release a little sigh as I follow her into the living room. Having her lay out this choice in such black-and-white terms gives me a beat of uncertainty. But the reality is that I don’t have the clout to nail Dalton, and in a few days or weeks, I’ll have even less influence on this island when I’m traded. From everything I’ve heard, Celia’s influence is endless, which is partof the conflict with most of her family. She doesn’t know when to tap in or out of that sphere of control.
She gestures to a couch, and she perches on another one. A maid or worker hovers at her shoulder, and Celia flicks her away.
“I heard you’ve been ill,” I say as I take a seat across from her. “Are you doing any better?”
She raises her eyebrows and purses her lips. “The latest treatment appears to be working to reset my kidneys, yes. Thankfully, my youngest daughter has stood by me. She’s never been one to go with the rest of the pack. Never thought that would be something I’d be grateful for.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re getting better.”
“No thanks to the rest of my family.”
A frisson of uncertainty goes down my spine. Maybe she won’t help me, help her daughter.
“Sawyer doesn’t know you’re here, correct?”
“No, she doesn’t.”
A slight smile touches the corners of her mouth, as though I’ve fed her a delicious morsel. “You must need something. That’s the only reason you’d be here.”
“I need help making sure that Sawyer is protected when I leave the island,” I say.
“Sounds rather dramatic,” Celia says, raising one eyebrow. “You know, her cousin, Owen, owns a security firm.”
“It’s not physical protection I need.”
“She’s a Tucker. That’s all thesocialprotection she needs.”
“Maybe,” I say with a shrug. “Maybe not, though. And I’m not one to take chances with people I love.”
“You’re very young for her.”
“Seems to suit her better than the older model she had before,” I say.
That earns an actual smile from Celia. “Oh, I bet it does. Dalton Worthington is a status seeker. A man hungry for power. But you? You play in a whole other arena.”
“Quite literally,” I agree. “He’s the reason I’m here.”
