Page 41 of Hard Limits

“Relationships are about give and take. You don’t like Lisbon, but Alfie’s fallen out of love with farming for the moment, and the weather has been awful. Maybe the two of you just need a break?”

“You think? You’ve never even had a relationship.”

“Ouch.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I just meant that…that it’s hard loving someone when you don’t like them very much at the moment.”

“You should talk to Alfie. Tell him how you feel. He might consider going somewhere quieter than Lisbon but busier than Fundão. A town in the Algarve? Or north near Porto?”

“I guess I could ask him. If he ever comes home.”

“He’s still out? What time is it over there?”

“Two a.m.”

Two a.m., and Meera sounded a tiny bit scared. Hell. “Talk to him, okay? Talk to him, and call me back.”

“I will.”

“Give and take, remember?”

“I guess Porto might be okay.”

“You’ve got this. Live the dream.”

She managed a teary laugh. “Live the dream.”

CHAPTER 16

BRAX

“This is our first vintage. Not every wine gets better with age, but this one has.”

Nolan wasn’t lying. Brax had drunk a bottle of the inaugural Dionysus Estate Syrah every year since Nolan bottled it, and it was smoother now. Gentler, with notes of leather and tobacco. Damn, he missed those cigarettes he used to sneak as a teenager. There were so few pleasures left in life now. Although that would have to change, and soon.

At least he could spend an enjoyable evening with friends, some old, some new. Violet and Dawson had flown in from Canada, where Violet was wrapping up filming on her new movie. Zach and Ari had driven up from Santa Cruz, Nolan had come from the Sierra Nevada foothills, Justin had journeyed cross-country from Virginia, and Chase had materialised from fuck knew where. As predicted, Alexa hadn’t shown up in person, but she’d sent a box of French cheese and made an appearance as a cartoon avatar on Chase’s tablet.

That had lasted through the appetiser and part of the entrée, then she’d left, citing work pressures. Again, not a surprise. Alexa had different priorities than everyone else. If there was an emergency, she’d drop everything to help, but her job—hacking, sometimes legal and sometimes not—would always take precedence over a dinner party. Alexa wasn’t a social creature. She didn’t do well in crowds. At Blackstone House, she’d emerged from her basement lair to eat, and that was about all. As for venturing outside, she only did that when absolutely necessary. Alexa was also a certifiable genius. Brax had long suspected she was somewhere on the autism spectrum, Asperger’s maybe, but there was no way Alexa would ever consent to being tested.

Chase was her one companion, the man who travelled everywhere with her. Brax didn’t think they were romantically involved, but Chase remained tight-lipped about their relationship, and Alexa never elaborated either. In Blackstone House, she’d managed to get along with everyone most of the time, although occasionally, she would perform an act so outrageously audacious that they wanted to throttle her. Such as installing electronic door locks so secure that nobody could enter or leave the house for two days unless they climbed through a window. And hiring some psycho from the dark web to break a neighbour’s arm after she saw the man slapping his teenage daughter. And stealing several million dollars from Linus Sykes, depositing it in equal portions in offshore bank accounts, and gifting one set of account numbers to each of the six other housemates present at the last dinner they’d shared. That was the last time Brax had physically seen her.

Justin swirled the red wine in his glass, sniffed, and sipped. “I’ll have to take your word for that. I still don’t have the first damn clue about wine.”

“You should come and stay at the vineyard sometime. We have the first guest cottage finished now.”

“Maybe I will if work ever lets up. Finding four days for this trip was hard enough.”

“Business is going well?” Brax asked.

“Too many buyers, not enough homes. Property prices are through the roof, land prices too. Diversifying to add a line of tiny homes alongside our regular developments is paying off.”

“But you’re still driving the same three-hundred-year-old pickup?” Dawson asked.

“If it ain’t broke, why fix it? At the moment, I’m putting most of the profits back into the business. It’s a long-term plan. We can’t all make millions before we’re thirty, like Brax.”

Brax swallowed a spoonful of raspberry soufflé. Meera had made excellent menu choices.

“Yes, well, I’ll probably lose the millions before I hit thirty-one.”

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