Page 48 of Secret Offer
“He did have dinner with one of the Rothschilds last week,” Becker muses.
We all watch Nate, as if there are clues to be had based on his facial expressions, which there aren’t. At one point, he throws his head back and laughs.
Meanwhile, Eliza paddles around the edge of the pool, following him and splashing his feet and lower legs with water. She's trying to get his attention, but he expertly ignores her, not missing a beat on his phone call. She has a mischievous look on her face, as if she's used to torturing her brother for kicks.
“I’m not sure it was the best idea for Nate to bring his sister,” I think out loud. “It looks like she’s going to be a distraction, and Nate isn’t going to have the time to babysit her.”
“Eliza’s over eighteen,” Becker says, waving me off. “She can take care of herself.”
“Trust me, Sebastian, she’s not going to be a problem. She came here to party, not hang out with her brother,” Theo chimes in.
“Maybe,” I say. “But she’d do well to remember he’s on the clock. I just hope he prepared her to entertain herself while she’s here.”
Not that she seemed to have any trouble entertaining herself last night while her big brother was completely oblivious. Her suite is directly next to mine, and while the walls have excellent soundproofing, I had to get out of bed in the middle of the night to close all my windows because she was apparently making good use of her balcony.
“She’ll be fine,” Becker insists. “There are plenty of things to do on the island.”
“Still. We should all keep an eye out for her. She’s trouble,” I tell them.
“For real? You barely know her,” Theo scoffs. “What are you talking about?”
“I heard her with a guy in her room last night. On the balcony, actually. Woke me up out of a dead sleep.”
Theo looks horrified. Or repulsed. Or both. Becker’s frowning.
“I know,” I say. “TMI. And it was the last thing I wanted to wake up to at one in the morning, believe me. But the real issue is, it’s bad for business. Who else would the guy be besides one of the staff, or one of the matches?”
I know I’m being the world’s hugest hypocrite here, but I’m trying to gauge their reactions. Because I sure as hell can’t casually mention thatI’mthe one who’s been fucking one of the matches and then see how they feel about it.
“Did you say anything to Nate?” Theo asks, darting a glance toward him.
“Not yet.”
“Well, don’t,” Theo says. “He’d freaking lose it. Beck? You with me?”
“Absolutely. Not to mention, he’d tear the place apart trying to figure out who put his hands on his baby sister. Let’s just keep it under wraps,” Becker says. “Meanwhile, Sebastian, why don’t you go ahead and have Eliza moved into a suite on another floor? Plausible deniability and all that. The less we know about the whole thing, the better.”
“Sure,” I say. “I’ll make up something about a maintenance issue.”
“Good idea,” Theo says.
Shaking my head at Becker, I say, “I just can’t believe you’re giving her a pass.”
Does that mean there’s a chance I could get one, too?
Becker shrugs. “Like I said, she’s eighteen. Don’t you remember being that age? I’m sure she’s just trying to take advantage of her summer vacation before heading off to college. I’d do the same thing in her shoes. Think about it. Once you’re a full-fledged adult, you can’t fuck whoever you want anymore. There are consequences.”
His statement is sobering. Neither Theo nor I have a response. Luckily, we don’t need one, because the waitress comes back with a tray full of drinks for us.
After Beck takes a gulp of his scotch, he picks up Nate’s Negroni and stands with both glasses. “I’m going to take Nate his drink. Doesn’t look like that call is ending anytime soon. Why don’t we raincheck this meeting until later? I’ve got a call to prep for myself.”
“So do I,” Theo says. “I mean, it’s month end. I’ve got bank recs to catch up on.”
They both walk off, and I sit for a few minutes with my drink, deeply pondering how fucked I am now that my business partners are all here.
I finally get up and start back toward the hotel when I see Mr. and Mrs. Tisdale waving me over from their table and chairs on the opposite side of the pool. My pulse picks up, but since I have no good excuse for not chatting with them, I put on my client-facing smile and head over to play nice and pretend with all of my being that I’m not messing around with their daughter. The daughter I’m contractually obligated to marry off to one of the three eligible bachelors that The Quattuor Group has vetted.
"Mr. and Mrs. Tisdale. How’s the vacation going?” I ask. “Perfect weather for lounging by the pool, isn’t it?"
