Page 14 of Fake Dark Vows

I glance at her son, and he can’t even make eye contact. This is clearly one argument he lost against his mom, and I wonder if she always wins, or if she has the final say when it comes to Ruby Island. Either way, he looks as if he would rather be anywhere else but here.

“Thank you,” I say. “I accept.”

Mrs. Weiss turns to her son. “Brandon, she can travel with you and Damon on the private jet tomorrow. I need Rose there before the guests arrive.”

Tomorrow? Private jet???

The interview is over.

Julia runs through the flight information with me and prints off a copy of the itinerary that will be handed to the guests so that I can familiarize myself with it. The words blur in front of my eyes. She talks about private jets and gourmet chefs like it’s a regular occurrence, and it’s all I can do to nod along and speak during the appropriate pauses.

It isn’t until I’m walking home with the guest list, itinerary, and flight information tucked neatly inside a plastic wallet, that I realize his name isn’t Damon. His name is Brandon, and his mom didn’t mention his wife and kids.

CHAPTER 5

Brandon

Rose is already on the private plane when I board, seated across a table-for-two from my brother, a bottle of champagne chilling in a wine cooler.

She looks up, her lips forming a smile that changes her entire face, briefly, like a light in a pitch-darkened room. Then it fades quickly, when she realizes that it’s me. Her gaze hops between me and my date for the week, Jennifer, and she chews her bottom lip in a mannerism that reminds me too much of Kelly.

“Brandon has arrived.” Damon raises his crystal flute in a mock toast as I gesture for Jennifer to take a seat on the opposite side of the aisle from my brother. “You’ve just lost me a couple hundred bucks. I was convinced you wouldn’t show.” He’s not drunk, but he isn’t sober either.

At least Rose has the grace to avert her eyes.

“Damon.” I take my seat and remove some documents from my briefcase. Nothing urgent. It’s a tool to avoid getting drawn into mindless conversations I’d rather ignore. “Drinking champagne with the housekeeper?”

Damon winks at Rose, whose cheeks grow even pinker. “My bad. No point making her sit at the front with Tom when there’s a perfectly good seat right here.”

Tom, the steward, appears to take a drinks order as I take my seat across the aisle with Jennifer. I ask for iced water. “Some of what they’re having,” Jennifer gestures at the wine cooler on Damon’s table, and the champagne bottle dressed in a starched white napkin.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Damon asks.

Rose raises her eyes and studies Jennifer closely as if trying to figure out our relationship. I could put her out of her misery, but the less interaction we have the better as far as I’m concerned, and I have no desire to swap personal information with someone I hope never to set eyes on again once this is all over.

“Damon, this is Jennifer,” I say. “Jennifer, my brother Damon.”

“And Rose.” Damon’s eyes narrow in my direction. “You’ll do well to keep Rose on your side,” he says to Jennifer. “She’ll be the one making sure the guests are fed and watered.”

“So, you’re the VIP.” Jennifer winks at Rose when she thinks I’m not paying attention.

Tom returns with my glass of iced water in a crystal tumbler and a champagne flute for Jennifer, and I ask him to fetch me a double brandy, ignoring the sly smile on Damon’s face. I don’t know why seeing them together has gotten me so rattled—it’s not like I discovered Rose and feel responsible for her. She’s an adult. She doesn’t need my protection.

“How did you two meet?” he persists, his eyes lingering on Jennifer.

This is the thing with Damon, he’s like a dog catching the scent of a bone. He won’t let it go until he has picked the situation apart and left his teeth marks on it, by which point, he’ll be on his way to steaming drunk, and I’ll be enemy number one in the eyes of everyone else on board the aircraft.

“In an art gallery,” Jennifer says, sipping champagne once Tom has filled her glass and retreated to the galley.

“Are you an artist?” Rose asks.

I try to keep my eyes on the documents in front of me, but I can’t help watching her out of the corner of my eye. Is she really that naïve or is it all an act for Jennifer’s benefit?

“No.” Jennifer slants a perfectly shaped eyebrow in my direction. “I’m a business associate of Brandon’s.”

I release a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Is that a flicker of relief in Rose’s eyes, or am I imagining it? Why do I even care?

I met Jennifer years ago when I first inherited the business from my father. She was an escort then—high-class, with a clientele of wealthy businessmen, politicians, and actors. An escort with ambition and more determination to succeed than anyone else I know.

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