The Worst Best Man(7)

And that was why Aiden kept his circle small. Miniscule really. He wasn’t social, didn’t enjoy attention or parties. He liked making money, rising to a challenge, finding the most creative solution to obstinate obstacles.

“Wow. Look at that water.” She pointed an unpolished finger to their left and leaned closer to him to get a better view. The highway paralleled the turquoise of the Caribbean Sea. He caught the scent of her hair, something exotic, spiced. And for one glorious second, the image of Frankie naked and sprawled across his bed materialized, unbidden in his mind’s eye.

“Picture perfect,” Aiden agreed.

“Have you ever been here before?” Frankie asked, digging through her bag. Triumphantly, she pulled out a tube of sunscreen.

“Are you making small talk?” he asked.

“Figured we wouldn’t fight as much over ‘pretty ocean’ and ‘come here often?’” She squeezed the lotion onto the pads of her fingers and rubbed it onto her face. Aiden wondered when was the last time he’d seen a woman in anything other than full makeup and perfectly coiffed hair. The women he dated preferred to leave “natural” a closely guarded secret.

“Oh, I think we can find contention on any topic,” Aiden predicted.

She hummed an answer and didn’t elaborate.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m trying to be polite. We’re here for Pru and Chip, and I’m not going to spoil their wedding by fighting with you.”

“You really don’t like me, do you?” Aiden asked with a grin.

“Nope. But that doesn’t mean I have to be an asshole about it. Some of us were raised better than that.” It was a jab at him, but rather than piss him off, it amused him.

“How were you raised?” he prodded.

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “We’re not going to play getting to know you. We don’t like each other, and we don’t need to. You do your thing, I’ll do mine. We’ll get through our formal portraits and our bridal party dance, and then we never need to see each other again.”

Aiden laughed. The sound of it foreign to his own ears. “I don’t not like you.”

“I’m not biting, Kilbourn. So, you just demolition derby us to the resort in silence, and I’ll sit here and pretend you’re a cute Australian surfer.”

“I’m not trying to start a fight—”

“Uh-uh. No words. Drive. Quietly.”

He grinned, shaking his head, and let her have her way. They zoomed along the skinny highway, swerving around potholes and stopping for the occasional pedestrian. They passed sandy white beaches with swaying palms and sunburned tourists. The street narrowed as he steered them into Bridgetown. They whizzed by store fronts and sidewalk produce stands, past a handful of luxury brand stores, and on by the cruise ship port.

Frankie’s attention was glued to the water view.

It was beautiful. The kind of blue that only existed on postcards. And the constant tropical breeze made the mid-eighties feel balmy, not oppressive. Not that he’d enjoy it. The long weekend was chock full of the downsides of wealth and privilege. Social obligation, familial responsibility, and—because he was closer to Chip than his own half-brother—gratuitous celebration. Was a marriage really worth this kind of fanfare? Shouldn’t the bride and groom want it to be something more private, more meaningful? He accelerated up a short hill, frowning.

“What could possibly be making you make that face while you look at this?” Frankie demanded, extending an arm to the sweeping vista before them.

“I thought we weren’t talking?”

“Right. I got distracted watching you look like you swallowed a lemon whole. Back to silence.”

On cue, his phone rang in the cup holder. Aiden glanced at the screen, his frown deepening.

“What is it, Elliot?” he demanded, keeping his tone clipped. His half-brother’s calls only ever meant one thing.

“How’s paradise?”

The less Aiden gave his brother, the easier the damage was to minimize.

“What do you need, Elliot?” Aiden asked.

“We need to talk about the board vote.” He heard the shift in his voice from charm to calculation.

“We’ve already discussed the vote. I’m not changing my mind,” Aiden said brusquely.

“I don’t think you’ve really thought it through—”

“I’m not naming Donaldson CFO. He’s under investigation for fraud from his last company. You can’t expect me to put our entire holdings at his feet and turn a blind eye.”

“The rumors about the fraud are completely overblown. It was just an ex-mistress with an axe to grind.” Aiden heard the distinct click of metal connecting with a ball followed by polite applause.

“On the course again?” Elliot spent more time golfing and drinking and fucking his way through the city’s female population than he did behind his desk in his very nice corner office one floor below Aiden’s.

“Just squeezing in a quick nine with a client.”

It was bullshit, but Aiden didn’t have the energy to call him on it. The fact was running his family’s company and extensive holdings was falling more and more on his shoulders as their father seemed to be taking a step back. Elliot could only be roused to care about business when it was something that affected him personally. He hadn’t figured out Elliot’s connection to the thieving, cheating Donaldson, but Aiden wasn’t about to step aside and let his brother name the next CFO of Kilbourn Holdings.