Beautiful Burn (The Maddox Brothers, #4)(9)

I waved him away. “He might be an overconfident prick, but he’s not a bad guy. He shouldn’t get mixed up with us.”

“True,” Sterling said, shoveling another bite into his mouth. He patted his mouth with his napkin, and then looked at me from under his manicured brows. “Since when are you accountable?”

“Oh, honey … I hope your day is as pleasant as you are.”

He chuckled quietly, and then took another bite.





CHAPTER THREE


Finley ruffled her mink coat and tossed her Chopard Grey glasses on the marble entry table. Finley wasn’t careless; she just wanted everyone to know that the six hundred dollars she’d spent to shield her eyes from the sun didn’t concern her—never mind they would likely be knocked off a leased yacht into the South China Sea the next week.

She turned her diamond nose ring one-quarter turn counter-clockwise, and then popped a mint into her mouth. “I’m going to have to charter from now on. Even first-class has become filthy. And the airports … ugh.”

Marco, filling out his charcoal Henley like a Banana Republic model, set their luggage down in the foyer, greeting Maricela and José in Portuguese when they came to collect the bags.

“They speak Spanish, Marco,” I deadpanned.

Marco took off his glasses, grinning at me like he knew a story or five he would tell me later, in front of Finley, when we were all drunk. “It’s close enough.”

I glared at Finley. “You brought him,” I said in an accusatory voice.

“He’s staying in a hotel,” Finley said, barely noticing that Marco was removing her coat. He bent down to untie her fluffy snow boots.

I cringed. “Stop. Marco, stop. Right now.”

Marco slipped off her second boot and set them perfectly side by side, standing up and waiting with want in his eyes—not the sort of desire a woman my age would want an exotic, gorgeous man like Marco to have. He was waiting to oblige me, please me, take care of any need I had, and not for me—for Finley. He didn’t simply take pride in indulging his employer and anyone who surrounded her—it was his obsession. Appeasing Finley and her entourage at once was his specialty, and he loved to show off his talents.

“Could I just,” he began, reaching for her bags.

“No, no you can’t,” I said, slapping his hands away. “Take your luggage and find your hotel. Finley will be able to breathe for herself this week.”

Marco fidgeted, unsure how to grant my demand.

Finley smiled at him with feigned patience. “It’s fine, Marco. Go on. Enjoy your vacation.”

He nodded a few times, both confident and unsure, clearly unsettled at leaving Finley to her own devices for more than a few minutes.

Marco kissed her hand. “Should you need anything, Miss Edson, I’ll be here within ten minutes.”

She pulled away slowly, waving him away, indifferent to his charm.

Marco looked borderline devastated as he collected his baggage and closed the door behind him.

I sighed. “That shit is getting out of hand.”

She smirked, walking the few steps to hug me tight. “You’re just jealous.”

I squeezed her once, and then pulled away. “Does he wipe your ass? Only then would I be jealous.”

Finley laughed, pulling off her gloves and walking down the hall to the piano room. She tossed them on the chaise and sat, relaxing back and crossing her socked feet. Her golden hair fell in soft waves just past her shoulders, shiny and perfect like it should be after the money she’d spent to keep it that way. “Not that he hasn’t tried, my love. You’re right, he would probably breathe for me if he could.”

“Isn’t that annoying?”

“Not really. I worry about nothing except what I have to worry about.”

“When do you go back to work? Is Daddy’s board still bitching about your promotion?”

She sighed. “Soon, and yes. How’s Winterland?”

I looked out the window. It wasn’t snowing, but the wind was blowing icy globs from the tree branches. “I think I’ll be ready for the sea.”

She watched me as her red lips pulled to the side. “You don’t look ready.”

I picked the navy-blue polish off my thumbnail. “I feel numb. We’ve tanned on every beach. Skied every resort from Estes to the Alps.”

“You’re bored?” Finley asked, amused.

“Displaced.”

Finley rolled her eyes, disgusted. “Don’t do that, Ellison. Don’t become a goddamned cliché. The rich girl who is bored with life, surrounded by everyone and no one, feeling all alone.”

“Don’t patronize me. I recall you going through a phase.”

“I shopped and spent a month with you in Barbados. I didn’t f*ck my way through it. You’ve always enjoyed your pharmaceuticals—you get that from Mother—but for Christ’s sake, Ellie. Pick a hobby. Get a boyfriend—or girlfriend. Find a cause. Find God. I don’t give a f*ck, but don’t whine about having too much money and too many options.”

I wasn’t sure what expression was on my face, but it might have mirrored Finley’s. I covered my eyes, and then sat down on the sofa, leaning back. “Fuck, you’re right. I’m Sterling.”