Page 45 of Five
“I think her cat likes me, if nothing else. They say animals have good instincts about people, so hopefully she’ll know she can trust me, right?”
“Of course, Cope. You’re a good guy.” I reassure that side of him that he rarely lets people see, but goddammit, there are days I’d really like to corner Cope’s father in a dark alley and do some damage.
Jesse joins us and grunts in disgust as he throws himself into a chair at the far end of the table.
I glance at him before turning my attention back to Cope. “But you do need to calm down a little, Gabe,” I tell him. He’ll know how serious I am since I’m using his given name. “You’re going to scare her off if you bombard her with the brand new puppy vibe. This is all new to Neve, remember. She’s not used to us. Hell, she hasn’t even been introduced to everyone yet. We need to try not to overwhelm her.”
Cope’s eyes widen and he nods, miming zipping his mouth.
“Pfft! She seems kind of dumb to me,” Jesse mutters. “All big-eyed and open-mouthed like she can’t string two words together. Never mind that she named her cat after that stupid ginger fucker in theOutlanderseries. Talk about a blonde moment.”
Cope frowns at Jesse’s attitude, but true to form, he chooses to keep the peace and make light of things. “Dude, maybe you need to get your sight checked, her hair’s brown and purple.”
Jesse rolls his eyes. “Ever hear of figurative language? You having your own blond moment? I’m sure it’ll be refreshing for you to have someone who can talk to you on your own level.”
A flicker of hurt flashes through Cope’s eyes, and his mouth tightens. The boisterous persona is gone, replaced by a silent, turned-inward man.
I ball my hands into fists on top of the table and glare at Jesse, his comments making all my earlier good intentions fizzle away as my hackles raise. Not just on Neve’s behalf, but Cope’s, too.
We all have our crosses to bear. Cope might come across as a bit of a himbo man-whore, but it’s all just a facade. He’s sensitive about the fact that his father not only cut him off financially— which he could have dealt with because he couldn’t care less about wealth— but also black balled him so it was impossible for him to find another job. Poor fucker even got fired from waiting tables when Daddy Dearest found out.
He hides it under a thin veneer of false cheer, but Cope is actually one of the cleverest people I know; more intelligent than all of us put together, except maybe Ollie, who’s just fucking brilliant in his own right. Cope has an MBA from Harvard, for chrissake. But that asshole who doesn’t deserve to be called a father willfully and deliberately took away every avenue Cope had to support himself, leaving him homeless and destitute.
He’d have been living on the streets, begging for scraps if it hadn’t been for Remi offering him a place to stay, and believe me, his fancy-ass upbringing and knowing which knives and forks to use does not prepare a person for something like that.
Cope wouldnothave survived.
Anyone would assume he’d done something really terrible to deserve all that, but all it really came down to was that he didn’t want to be part of the family business, perpetually stuck under his father’s thumb.
Cutting him off was Richard Ascopt’s attempt at manipulating Gabe into accepting the high-powered, corporate lifestyle that never suited him, and now he acts like the joker to avoid the bleakness of his past. Even his womanizing is just a cry for affection.
There’s more to the story of course. Cope is no longer penniless thanks to his sister, and Jesse needs to remember that it’s mostly Cope’s wealth and financial acumen that supports the lifestyle we enjoy here on our own private island. Funding something like this doesn’t come cheap.
I throw a filthy look at Jesse. “Quit being a fucking asshole,” I warn, staring him down.
Jesse looks at my clenched fists. “Why? You gonna make me?”
I flex my hands. “Maybe I will,” I say through gritted teeth, raw fury making me clench my jaw so hard I’m surprised my molars don’t crack.
I’d like to punch his fucking lights out, right now, just get everything out in the open, even though we’re pretty evenly matched and there’s no telling who’d win a showdown between the two of us.
We’re both military trained, and we’re equally dangerous. We’ve had our confrontations in the past; Jesse’s had them with all of us. It’s like he’s constantly daring us to push him away. Of course, the others aren’t really a match for him, and so far, Jesse and I have avoided going at it through mutual respect, but right now, he’s pushing it too far.
The only thing stopping me now is the fact that it’s almost time for dinner, and the last thing Neve needs to be faced with when she comes out is what would no doubt be an extremely vicious, downright dirty, fight.
Luckily Remi appears just as the tension between us is about to hit breaking point, and an uncharacteristically quiet Cope scrambles to help our resident chef set out the dishes and the table settings.
Remi’s gone all out, by the look of this spread. And like the peacekeeper he is, he deliberately ignores the atmosphere at the table.
“I could do with a hand carrying out the food,” he says, arranging the plates and adding napkins and a couple of small bud vases to the table, then rearranging them until they’re exactly to his liking.
I’m not so sure he really means that. The way he’s positioning everything ‘just so’ means he’d probably pitch a fit if we dared put anything in the wrong place. He’s just trying to divert our attention away from each other; but what the hell, he can rearrange it.
I push up from the table and head for the restaurant, humoring him, while Jesse stays in his seat with a sullen look on his face.
When I return, Oliver has made an appearance, his hair still damp from the shower. I’m glad he’s made an effort; as reclusive as he is, it’s not always a given.
“Did you get finished?” The deadline for his latest book is looming. He’s put in a couple of extra hours today, trying to clear his schedule for the rest of the week now that Neve’s here.
