She had recognized for the lie it was immediately. Damon had never really told her todoanything. All of his orders had been filtered down through the untrustworthy mouthpiece of her mother, who was about as interested in watching them as she was in anything else.
But Jay had also known that dealing with Nick now would be easier than dealing with Nick later, when he would be bearing a grudge after her return alone.
“All right,” she’d sighed. “Come on, toad.”
They had gone to a thrift store downtown called Hidden Marvels because Jay wasn’t used to having an allowance and was terrified that it would be taken away if she overspent. “Why aren’t we going to the mall?” Nick whined. “They have an arcade. This is where old ladies shop.”
“We’re shopping here,” Jay had said, already annoyed. “Don’t touch anything. If you break it, you have to buy it,” she added, noticing a sign.
“I’m not going to break anything.”
Jay, recognizing the bratty tone, had not been convinced. And when he did break something less than five minutes later, she was not at all surprised. It had been an old glass ornament—blown antique glass. Very expensive-looking and quite possibly irreplaceable.
Before Jay could get in an “I told you so” or reluctantly reach for her wallet, the bratty little twelve-year-old that was her stepbrother had reached for a tiny leather wallet she didn’t even know he had, and handed the startled clerk three twenties. “A little extra for your trouble,” he said, in what was clearly a stiff approximation of his father, and Jay remembered staring at him with a stunned sort of awe, thinking,Just who the hell does this kid think he is?
Even dressed in deliberately casual disarray while surrounded by all of Hollybrook’s finest social climbers, it was clear who held the power here. Quentin’s suit might have cost the same on the rock, but the fact that Nicholas wore his so carelessly suggested a level of comfort that added to, rather than detracted from, his arrogance.
The difference between the Nick sitting across from her and the Nick from sixteen years ago was that this one knewexactlywho he thought he was—and now, she did, too.
“Courtney’s great,” Quentin said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’d already lost this game of social calculus before it had even begun. “She’s a doctor now. Married.”
“Are you married?”
Quentin’s face became unreadable. “No.” Turning to Jay, his smile gained some fresh wattage. “Jay-Jay, how are you? I meant to reach out after we talked at Just Avocados but you must have changed your number. I was hoping we could catch up. Shoot the shit, spill the tea—just like we did during the good old days.”
Did you, Jay thought humorlessly, aware of Nicholas’s gaze. Picking up her champagne glass, she studied the legs of the wine, the fine spray of bubbles. It had obviously been very expensive.
“I didn’t think we had much left to discuss,” she said. “You made yourself very clear.”
Nicholas smiled.
The corners of Quentin’s mouth turned down even as he somehow maintained his professional smile. “It’s been years, Jay. Can’t we forgive and forget? You never used to stay mad at me.”
“I’m sorry, Quentin. I’m not the girl I was in high school.”
“Did you want something, Ho? Or are we done here?”
Resigned, Quentin faced Nicholas without much enthusiasm. “Michael wanted me to pass on his thanks if I saw you. He wanted you to know that the development is going well. Everything is signed off and ready to build.”
“I’m more interested in him holding up his side of our bargain than I am in platitudes.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks for the wine.”
Quentin’s smile was now visibly forced. “With my compliments. Thanks for patronizing the Bayview.”
“I thought you liked him,” Nicholas murmured, as Quentin walked away.
“I used to. What was that about? What bargain do you have with Michael?”
“Just a little business deal. Nothing for you to worry about. Our fathers used to do business together and he wanted it to be just like old times.” He arched his brows at her continued silence, not even bothering to hide his obvious glee. “Wasn’t he one of your simps?”
“Quentin? Or Michael?” Jay drained her champagne, the decadence of the waste thrilling her a little in the wake of her sudden adrenaline rush. “I’m not the pushover everyone thinks I am, you know. He can’t buy my forgiveness with a drink.”
“And to think you used to care so much about what they thought of you.” His eyes were hotly admiring as he studied her over the delicate glass that looked like it might snap in his fingers. Nearly twenty years later, Jay thought, and he was still the small boy who gloried in the delights his own destruction wrought. “I could ruin him, you know. With a single phone call.”
Jay’s eyes snapped to his. “What do you mean, ruin him?”
“I mean, I can make all this—” he snapped his fingers. “Gone.”
Jay backed up against the booth. “Y-you can do that?”
