Page 25 of Finding Lord Landry

“Outrageous,” Jamie murmured. “How dare he?”

“He’s wealthy, too. I’m talking more money than sense sometimes. Mostly.” I leaned forward and whispered, “The man bought me a Louis Vuitton suitcase.”

“And you… don’t like it?” he guessed.

“What? No, I love it. It’s aLouis Vuitton suitcase,” I repeated, like Jamie was being particularly dense. “The thing glides like butter. It’s fucking perfect. The absolute pinnacle of luggage. The Prince Charming of carry-ons. It’s the kind of thing I would never, ever buy myself. And now that I have one, no other luggage will ever compare. Which is why—” I jabbed my straw harder. “—he has no business giving me something like that and letting me get used to it in the first place. You see?”

Jamie wrinkled his nose. “Not entirely, I’m afraid.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “This isn’t coming out right. Just… trust me when I say, he’s a playboy, okay? He’s not about commitment.”

“Ah.” Jamie’s expression cleared. “Well, there you go. If the guy’s sleeping around when that’s not your arrangement…”

“No, it’s not like that.” I waved a hand. “Technically, we’ve been monogamous for the last three years. Not because it’s a rule.” I pointed a finger at Jamie for emphasis. “Itisn’t. It’s a choice, with no expectations or promises. A choice he happens to have made repeatedly for the past three years, and so have I. But that’s all.”

“That’s all,” Jamie echoed. “Three years.”

“The question is, how long is that likely to last, really? You know?” The setting sun was doing strange things to my eyes, making Jamie’s face double, then merge again with every blink. “He’s not ready to settle down. Heisn’t. No matter what he said to me at Christmas or how sweet and sad he looked when he said it.”

“Riiiight.” Jamie stretched the word out. “So, you’re saying… he’s not interested in having kids like you are?”

“No, he is. I mean, I think he is. Eventually.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure he hasn’t given a single thought to how to make it happen, though.”

“Okay, now I get it.” Jamie nodded sagely. “He’s not a go-getter. It’s hard to be a high achiever in a relationship with a person who doesn’t support your ambitions. I feel that, believe me.”

“Weeelll…” You couldn’t say a man who’d graduated from Yale, become a self-made billionaire before age twenty-five, and mustered the self-discipline to become one of the world’s highest-paid models wasn’t a high achiever, could you? “He has achieved some things. More things than I have,” I admitted.

“And is that a problem? Does he want you to give up your work?” Jamie was sitting back in his seat and looking at me strangely now, probably because I was attempting to murder my fruity cocktail with my straw rather than drink it.

“Oh, good god, no. He’s not jealous, and he’ddieif I quit.” I snorted to myself, just imagining it. “He loves that I’m so good at what I do. Frankly, I think it turns him on. And he sometimes looks at me like I’m a superhero, which turnsmeon. And when you think about it, he’s probably the only man on Earth who wouldn’t care that I’m married to my job because it’d almost be like being married tohim… except that we’re not married and never will be for all the reasons I mentioned.” I gave the icy remnants of my drink one last poke and set the glass on the table. “Now do you understand?”

“I think I’m beginning to.” Jamie smiled—a smile that was pure friendship and no flirtation whatsoever. “Poor stupid boy.” He sucked up the last bits of drink in his glass. “And poor you.”

I wanted to argue with this—clearly, I’d given Jamie some misconceptions about my situationship with Landry over the course of the conversation if he was feeling sympathetic toward him, and it seemed important to correct this—but when the bartender brought us yet another round, the thoughts flew out of my head like ripples across the pool, there one minute and then gone so quickly I couldn’t remember what we’d even been talking about.

By the time the sun went down, we’d been joined by several of the other retreat attendees. A local band came in and played live music while the warm breeze blew across the pool terrace from the beach.

Everyone was easy and friendly, and I realized I was glad I hadn’t been able to fly home early after all. Maybe there was something to this relaxation thing. I had another two weeks to enjoy my time here, learning and meditating during the day and then practicing having a social life at night. Maybe by the end of the remaining two weeks, I might feel less like a stiff workaholic and more like a regular human being with a work-life balance, and maybe this distance from Landry would eventually help me let go of him… though, admittedly, I hadn’t been doing great at that so far.

As I stumbled back to my room well past midnight, I overheard two resort employees whispering in a dramatic way. I glanced over at them to try and determine what was going on, but they immediately stopped their discussion, smiled, and wished me a good night.

I was too drunk to think much of it.

When I got back to my room, I forced myself not to check my phone. That way lay madness in the form of another jerk-off session or possibly phone sex, and I was too drunk to trust myself not to blurt out something I might cringe to remember. Instead, I used my remaining energy to wash my face, brush my teeth, and pass out.

If only I’d checked my phone.

By the time I woke up late into the morning, the resort was in chaos, San Cordova was under martial law, and all communication with the outside world had been shut down.

SIX

LANDRY

As soon as I returned from my run the following afternoon and turned off the workout app that blocked my notifications, I immediately knew something was wrong. I almost always had a couple of new texts or news alerts chime through when I came back online; I’dneverhad two dozen texts and missed phone calls, most from the Brotherhood, asking me to call ASAP.

My first thought was that it had something to do with Lellie, so I didn’t bother checking any other alerts. I set up my laptop on the table by the settee in my bedroom—my usual spot for doing videos since it hid the rest of the room’s distinctive antique furnishings from view—and started a video call without even bothering to shower.

“What happened?” I demanded.

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