Chapter Seven
Elizabeth
After the taxi takes me back to the bar, I drive my Maserati to Uncle Salazar’s mansion. I prefer to stay with Marcella in the three-bedroom condo her parents leased for her, but that wasn’t an option when I returned to the States.
“Marcella?” Grandma Shirley snorted. “That girl and her family are beneath you, Elizabeth. You’ll come stay with me. There are plenty of empty bedrooms.” She’s been living in a small mansion since her husband’s death.
I didn’t bother to look to Mom for help since I know where her loyalty lies.
“You should do as your grandmother says. She knows best, and Marcella just isn’t the right kind of friend.” Of course, Mom knows this despite never having met Marcella. “You can do better.” She placed a sycophantic hand on Grandma’s shoulder.
At the end, it was Uncle Salazar who said I ought to stay with him since his place is bigger—by ten bedrooms. “A teenager doesn’t want to be under somebody’s eye all the time, Mother,” he told Grandma. “Even if it is her doting grandmother.”
Grandma protested…a little. She adores her only son—even though he always does whatever he wants, consequences be damned.
All things considered, Uncle Salazar’s place isn’t terrible. It’s huge, so I never run into him or Aunt Ceinlys. The household staff takes care of everything, and nobody cares what I do.
But on a day like this…
I cringe at the sight of a red Lamborghini as I pull up to the mansion. The last person I want to run into is my oldest—and coldest—cousin, Dane, who can make me feel like I’m encased in a block of ice with a single glance. He probably doesn’t like me much, either… I’ve disappointed Grandma. He doesn’t fawn over her the way Mom does, but he adores her.
He doesn’t live at the ridiculously large mansion, but he might be inside. He probably came by to say hello to his parents. Actually, he probably has some business to discuss with his father. He isn’t the type to call or visit otherwise.
After parking my car next to his Lamborghini, I run out. My high heels click against the stone steps, sounding like mini firecrackers. Still no Dane.
Yes!
I yank the door open and run smack into a hard chest.
“Ack!”
I rebound like a ball, tipping backward. A strong—but not particularly gentle—hand grips my arm and sets me right.
“Watch where you’re going,” comes the unmistakable voice.
I force a smile, as I look up at Dane’s ever-unfriendly face. He’s in a bespoke suit as usual, his dark hair perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. Outwardly, he’s a perfect gentleman—if you don’t look too closely at his icy blue eyes, which make you want to shiver. Others in the family claim he has ice in his veins, but I’ve always thought there’s more than cold water to him.
He has to be a reptile.
His gaze sweeps me up and down. “Wild night out?”
A nervous giggle bubbles up, but I manage to clear my throat instead. “Pretty good. I was out with Marcella.” I don’t mention Vanessa since she doesn’t need crap from her oldest brother.
Disapproval turns his face even more remote.
I stare at his chest, noting the buttons on his shirt are pearly white and semi-translucent. It’s amazing that he can make me squirm faster than Dad. But then, Dad could never manage calm, icy disapproval the way Dane can.
“She’s bad business,” Dane says.
I’m getting tired of people disapproving my choice of friends, but I’m not brave enough to tell Dane off. “Okay,” I mumble.
“And you should dress better in public.”
I look down. Yeah. It’s sort of obvious I’m trying to pass a man’s shirt off as a dress. I clear my throat. Again. “Right.” Mom.
A sudden thought lights up my mind. I should’ve given the shirt back to Dominic. I’m flying to Italy tomorrow evening. Maybe he’ll call me, but I can’t take a taxi to his place or drive my Maserati. What excuse am I going to give him about my car?
Dane starts to walk past me. “Can I borrow a few thousand bucks?” I blurt out.
“Define ‘a few.’”
“Um…” I hesitate for a moment, berating myself for asking Dane, of all people. When I need something, I put it on my credit card. If it’s over the limit, I call one of my parents’ assistants. If I don’t want to bug my parents—and I don’t want to involve them at all—I turn to Mark, who’s a helluva lot sweeter and more fun than Dane. “Eight?”
“For what?”
“Um. A car…?”
Is eight thousand enough to get me a cheap car like college kids drive?
I have no idea. The Maserati was a gift from Dad when I turned sixteen. Not an indulgence, but a gesture to show Mom, who was his Wife Number One, that he’s rich enough to throw that kind of money around and not miss it. Isn’t she sorry she divorced him instead of shrugging off “one minor indiscretion”?
“What’s wrong with your Maserati?” Dane asks.
“Nothing.”
He raises an eyebrow.
I shift my weight back and forth. “I just wanted to buy a normal car that won’t stand out so much.”
“And you’ve come to this decision after having the Maserati for over a year?”
“I can pay you back.”
“You’re going to do more than that. You’re going to owe me one.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
He shakes his head. “Never say ‘fine’ when somebody says you’re going to owe them one. The answer should always be ‘go to hell.’”
Whatever, I think, but don’t dare say it out loud. The Reptile might not give me the money.
“Even if I gave you the cash, you still wouldn’t be able to buy a car anyway.”
“Why not?”
“You’re seventeen, Elizabeth.”
I stick my tongue out…almost. “Wrong. I’ve been eighteen since ten hours ago.”
“Ah, that’s right. Your birthday’s today.”
“So what are you going to give me?”
He gives me a look that says I’ve lost my mind. “Eight grand not enough?”
“But I’m going to owe you one!” Shaking his head, he starts to walk away, and I trot after him. “Hey, why don’t you help me with car shopping?”
“Because I have better things to do.”
“If you’re with me, no sleazy salesman’s going to try to rip me off. Please? What if they try to sell me a lemon?”
He comes to an abrupt stop. I almost bump into him, but catch myself in time. He turns and levels his gaze on me. “Call my assistant.”
“Thanks, Dane. You’re the best.”
“Not bad for a reptile, I know.”
I choke, unable to decide if he’s joking from his absolutely flat, emotionless delivery. I swear I’ve never called him that when he could hear. Before I can recover, he climbs into his Lamborghini and leaves.
I take a steadying breath and smile. I’ll call Dane a “friendlier than expected reptile” from now on.