Page 95 of The Last Resort
So much for being on a tropical island. Matthew’s mood over breakfast was positively icy. He barely acknowledged her.
Last night when she’d returned to their bedroom after showering, she had found a note explaining that he’d gone to deal with a sudden and urgent business matter. Why anything could be all that urgent at two am, was beyond her. Whatever it was, it had set him in a terrible mood.
He didn’t come back to our room last night. And this morning he won’t talk to me.
Adding to Rachel’s growing list of worries were the numerous missed phone calls from an unknown number she’d seen when she switched her cell back on. She knew who’d been calling. While she’d been enjoying the wedding, her father had been trying to get in touch. To reach out and destroy her life.
She couldn’t decide what was worse. Her father and his demands for four-million dollars. Or Matthew and his simmering rage.
I can’t make sense of either of them.
Matthew abandoned her part way through breakfast.Rising from his chair, he tossed his napkin on the table, and spoke a few terse words. “Change of plans, we are leaving today. The boat for the main island leaves at eleven, make sure you are packed. It won’t wait.”
His tone and demeanor all but added,And neither will I.
She was seated next to Camille, who caught Rachel’s eye, and silently mouthed, “What?”
Rachel shrugged. She had no idea why he was in such a terrible mood. Nor why he felt the need to take it out on her. His behavior reminded her of the night when they’d discovered they were in opposing camps over the ski lodge development. He’d been angry then and so had she. But this morning left her dumbfounded.
He’s cancelled the rest of our trip.
“I don’t know what has got into Matt. He left our room late last night leaving me a note saying he had an urgent business matter. It was after seven this morning before he finally returned, and since then he’s barely said more than a couple of words to me. And now we are leaving.”
The flight back to Aspen loomed large in her mind. Six hours stuck in a private plane with him was going to be torture if this was the mood he was carrying.
“Shall I go and have a word with him, mon ami? I think that’s what you Americans call it when you are going to rip someone a new one in private,” offered Camille. Camille’s English was faultless, but she seemed to love using the fact that she was French as a cunning way to come out with brilliant and cutting remarks.
“As much as he might need it, I don’t think that would help my situation. But thank you. I’ll make sure to call you if I change my mind.”
Matthew might not want to see her before the flight, but she was hardly about to hide in their room until it was time to leave. Whatever stick was up Matthew’s ass this morningwas his problem. The rules of social etiquette had been drilled into her. If she left without saying thank you to the hostess and to the staff, she wouldn’t be able to look herself in the mirror.
“When are you heading back to New York City, Camille?”
Worst case scenario, she took another flight back to the US, and made her own way to Aspen. With the new suitcases to haul, it would be a pain, but she was a big girl, and could look after herself.But this time I will take extra care with the luggage carts.
“A few of us are staying on at the island for a couple more days, which I thought you and Matthew were also doing. I’m finalizing some last designs for September fashion week while also hiding from my parents who will be spending time in New York. I know it sounds like I’m a coward but, I don’t need any more lectures from my dear papa telling me how disappointed he is in me.”
Misery loved company, but it didn’t give Rachel any comfort to know Camille had her issues with her own father. No matter how bad things were between Camille and François Royal, she doubted they could hold their own against the mess of her own family.
At least your dad isn’t in prison and trying to get you to weasel four million dollars from the man you love. The man who’s just canned our sunshine break and is barely speaking to me.
She just wished she knew why Matthew was so angry this morning. A knot twisted in her belly at the growing worry that his bad temper had little to do with a business problem and everything to do with her.
What have I done?
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
He was silent on the boat back to the main island. He spoke the bare minimum to her on the long flight to Aspen. In between making long phone calls, he kept his nose firmly in the book he’d started reading at the beginning of the trip. When they landed, Matthew marched across the tarmac leaving Rachel to handle her own bags. She was still struggling with the cases, when he stopped and came back to her. He snatched the handles of both suitcases from out of her hands before continuing on his bad-tempered trek to the airport exit.
A tearful, Rachel followed.
When she finally did find him in the parking lot, she barely had time to buckle up her seatbelt before he hit the gas and tore out of the airport. The only thing stopping her from screaming “Slow down, you lunatic!” was the fact that as soon as they reached the intersection with the main road which led into town, he had the good sense to actually drive like a normal person.
But if he thought that bought him any favors, he was dead wrong. He was clearly steaming with rage, but he had nothingagainst the fury which now coursed through Rachel’s veins. She’d been his guest for the wedding, and this morning he’d humiliated her in front of his entire family.
Camille had been right—someone needed to tear Mister Matthew Royal a new one and Rachel was just the woman for the job.
As soon as he pulled the Jeep up out front of the Green Tree lodge, Rachel flipped off her seatbelt and got out of the car. She slammed the door with all the power she could put into her arm.
