Page 62 of Remembering Passion

Dani nodded. “Of course, the board was notified.”

“Damien,” Amber said, “I know things are awkward, but I thought you might be glad to see me.” She looked around. “Is Darius here?”

“I’m not my brother’s keeper.”

“It was nice of you to come,” Dani said in a pacifying tone. “But Dad can’t have visitors who aren’t—”

Who aren’t family.

Amber isn’t family.

“Go back to Chicago.” I took a step toward my sister. “We’re not alone. Dad has his family here.”

Gabriella

Traffic sped along the interstate as Johnathon drove me to the airport. Last night, I gave in and called Millie, informing her that I wouldn’t be in the office today. My next call was to Niles. He promised to watch the movers and help Rosemary.

It wasn’t Beta Kappa Phi that had my stomach in knots. It was the unknown of this upcoming weekend. Even though I’d left Damien a voicemail last night, I’d yet to hear from him. When I asked Johnathon what was happening, he was vague, as if he wasn’t certain of Damien’s location or else he’d been sworn to secrecy.

What did that mean?

Was Damien with another woman?

Why were my thoughts going that direction?

Damien had been many things when we were last together, but unfaithful wasn’t one of them. That brought back the question I posed to Niles—are Damien and I back together?

When it came to my plans for the weekend, I had the detailed itinerary complete with notes for my predetermined clothing. Each notation was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. The entire idea was ridiculous. I meant what I’d said: I wasn’t a doll to be dressed.

At the last minute, I stripped out of the outfit Damien demanded I wear, packing it neatly into the suitcase. If I was going to meet these people as Ella Crystal, I would do it in my own clothes. Besides, I hadn’t heard from Damien since the ridiculous text. I didn’t even know if he would be along on this trip.

If he wasn’t present, he’d never know what I wore or didn’t wear.

The spring sky filled with crimson and lavender hues with the rising sun as Johnathon’s SUV entered the private parking lot near the personal hangars. Taking in the different planes through the windows, I remembered the feeling of boarding one of these aircraft.

Damien’s words from the other night came back to me. “Self-deprecation isn’t a good look for you, Ella. You know how to enjoy the finer things in life. Perhaps you’ve forgotten.”

I hadn’t forgotten.

I assumed that those finer things were no longer part of my world. I wasn’t without fine things. It was that my things were more common. I bought my wine from Total Wine & More. I flew economy. My clothes came from the mall and while shopping, I looked at every price tag. Four figures for a dress was a waste of money. Hell, the Brandon Maxwell dress was probably worth one to two months on my mortgage.

And now, here I was.

Back in the world where I never truly felt that I belonged.

As Johnathon opened my door and I stepped out to the tarmac, I remembered what it was like.

The opulence.

The luxury.

The illusion of wealth.

That wasn’t to say Damien didn’t have wealth, but to say I didn’t.

“I’ll get your luggage stowed under the plane,” Johnathon offered.

The stairs to the plane with Sinclair painted on the fuselage were down. Inhaling a deep breath, I lifted my chin and began the ascent. As I climbed the steps, the pilot, Allen, appeared at the top.

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