I search his face for any sign that he’s impressed. I’ve spent countless hours studying the family business, understanding some of the intricacies of the software. He knows firsthand how good I am at navigating his software. And, of course, that’s the problem.
“That changes nothing,” my father says flatly. “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do if you want to make it in the real world, James.”
I sit still for a moment. I want to demand to know when it will be enough for him. When he’ll forgive me. Because I think we both know this isn’t about online school or internships. It isn’t about Chasers. No, my father still resents me for what happened two years ago. And I don’t think he’ll ever get over it. And to be fair, neither will I.
I lean forward in my chair, ready to press him for a chance, when the sound of heels clicking on the slate tiles catches my attention. When I turn, I see Jordan and her mother heading in our direction.
Cecelia Miles is royalty around here. Her family owns half the resort, meaning Jordan is princess of the Augustus. Cecelia is tall, like Jordan, with her dark hair pulled tightly back in a slick bun. In the daytime, she looks like an average rich person, white shorts and a blouse, sweater around her shoulders. She’s nice enough, I guess. At least she seems to think I have potential, and I’ve been a little starved for that kind of attention lately.
I stand up as she arrives, and my father does too. They exchange cheek-kisses, and then she smiles warmly at me. I nod and sit down again. Jordan takes the spot across from me, but she looks exceedingly uncomfortable, avoiding my gaze. I’m a bit amused. I know I missed a few calls from her last night, but this seems like an extreme reaction. There really was a hurricane happening.
After a cheek-kiss with my mother, Cecelia Miles slides into the chair and holds court, as if she’s the head of our family. She just has thatpresence about her. She smiles at each of us, whispering a sweet hello to Astrid, who waves back.
I look across the table at Jordan again, but she’s staring at the breadbasket as if she’d rather be anywhere else. I try to get her attention, but Cecelia breaks the silence.
“You are a vision, Izzie,” she tells my mother. “I hope you’re all having a great time?” My mother immediately assures her that we are.
“Everything’s beautiful, Cecelia,” my mother gushes. “Thank you. And the suite…” She shakes her head as if there are no words to describe its beauty. Cecelia seems pleased by the compliment.
“I know the weather has been a bit… challenging,” she says, and the adults chuckle. “But it’s calling for clear skies the rest of the week.” She turns to Astrid. “And…” she adds playfully, “we’ll be starting up our kids’ camp tomorrow. Lots of adventures and beach activities.”
Astrid’s lip curls before she can mutter that it sounds fun, alongside my mother’s nodding encouragement. My sister is not a big fan of organized events.
Then it’s my time to chat as Cecelia fully turns her body toward me. “And I hope you two,” she wags her finger between me and Jordan, “had a good time last night. I know it was a late one.”
Uh… I have no idea what she’s talking about. I didn’t see Jordan last night. I was wandering the resort by myself, looking for a place to be alone and avoid my parents.
I glance across the table at Jordan. Her eyes are downturned as she fiddles with her bracelet clasp. Her olive skin has gone pale, her posture rigid. She’s shrinking under her mother’s attention. I’ve never related to her more.
I turn and smile brightly at Cecelia. “We had a blast,” I say smoothly. “Then again, Jordan and I always have a great time together.” Jordan’s mouth flinches with a smile, although she doesn’t look up.
“Oh, that’s wonderful to hear,” her mother replies, reassured.
When I dare a look at my father, he also seems pleased. Jordan is obviously the type of person he thinks I should be surrounding myself with. Beside him, my mother is practically beaming at the idea of us as a couple.
“Well,” Cecelia says after checking the time on her shiny gold watch. “We should get going.” She glances at my father. “I’ll see you later at the meeting for…?” she asks him, and he nods before she finishes the question. “Very well,” she adds. She stands up and snaps her fingers in the air for Jordan to come along.
Jordan gets out of her seat obediently, still seeming mortified by the entire exchange. I realize then that she’s the reason Cecelia came over. She was checking her daughter’s story.
“Let’s do dinner tomorrow night,” Cecelia tells my mother, and the two dramatically clasp hands as if she’s going off to war and not back to a boardroom.
Cecelia waves goodbye to the rest of us, and Jordan rounds the table to follow her. But when she passes me, Jordan ducks down to give me a quick side-hug. When she does, she brings her lips next to my ear.
“I owe you,” she whispers.
She straightens, giving me a knowing look before chasing after her mother.
As I watch them walk away, Cecelia gets fawned over by every guest on the patio. She stops suddenly as a man walks outside, and she bows her head to him politely. For a moment, I can’t imagine anyone worthy of so much of her attention, but as I study him, he looks familiar.
Then it hits me: His portrait, a younger version, hangs in the entrance of the Grand Augustus alongside Cecelia’s. He is the other half of the resort—Alessandro Mancini.
Short stature with hair graying at the temples, he should be forgettable. Instead, his presence is an anvil dropped in the center of everything.His dark gaze is sharp as he glances around, precise and cutting. He’s wearing a charcoal-gray suit in the summer, tailored to absolute perfection. Expensive shoes. Gold rings.
I look at my father, curious at his reaction, but he doesn’t even turn around—as if he doesn’t care one way or another. A perk of being six foot five, I guess. You’re not easy to intimidate—or impress.
Mancini and Cecelia begin chatting, ignoring the guests who are trying to say hello to them. The two owners leave together, Jordan trotting obediently behind.
For a moment, I feel lucky to have my parents. Those two were intense. When I look across the table again, my mother is serene, as if everything is going to her plan. After all, I was with Jordan Miles—that has to be good news.
