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“Australia?” she asked the next morning when Ethan stopped by. It was good for the staff to see him there, he said. Even better if they just thought he was leaving early after a night of unbridled passion.
“Yeah. I need you to come and meet my family, and in order to do that you have to come to my family’s home. Not my parents’ home. My grandparents’ home. I spent a lot of time there growing up.”
“That’s … that’s really nice.” She frowned. “I really don’t like the idea of lying to your grandparents.”
“I’m sure my grandfather half expects this. He’s controlling as hell, but I actually think he means well. He knows I’ll do the right thing, or at least the thing he asks of me. Which is more than he’s ever got from his own son.”
Ethan made it sound as if his parents were a lost cause, but at least he had his grandparents. She didn’t have that. Her father, an investment banker from Switzerland according to her mother, had left before her first birthday. And her mother’s antics had alienated Noelle’s grandparents long before she was born.
She couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have that stability. Any stability.
“Do they … do they know about my mother and your father?”
“Odds are they do. He wasn’t exactly discreet.”
“Ethan, I’m …”
“Don’t.”
She stopped the apology from tumbling out and tried not to be too hurt by the hard tone of his voice. She cleared her throat. “But your grandfather … he’s good to you?”
Ethan shrugged. “Yeah. He’s tough, but that’s probably a good thing.”
Do it again, Noelle. You’re getting sloppy. Why was her mother’s voice still so loud? Just the memory of it made her hands ache. She remembered doing scales for hours, so long that she could hardly feel her fingers anymore, so that the action seemed disconnected from her body, divorced from conscious thought.
“Too tough isn’t always good,” she said, flexing her fingers to try and relieve the phantom pains.
“Too easy isn’t good either. No discipline? No control? Makes for a pretty worthless excuse for a human being.”
The venom in his tone surprised her. “And too much turns you into a machine repeating the same drills on the piano eight hours a day.”
“It’s a rare person who has too much discipline, Noelle. But you might fit under the heading.”
“You too, Ethan?”
He turned to face her, his dark eyes molten, hot, burning straight into her. “That remains to be seen, I think. Be prepared for my grandmother to grill you, by the way.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding and tried to smile. “This is going to be quite the dinner party.”
“This may be why I haven’t married yet.” He chuckled darkly. “My family is far too dysfunctional to inflict on anyone else. Of course, it may be me. If they’re as bad as all that, I can’t be much better.”
“You seem nice to me.”
“Well, that’s the thing, Noelle, you don’t really know me. If you did, you might feel differently. And you aren’t marrying me, not really. Not forever.” The look that flashed in his dark eyes was strange, pain-filled. It made Noelle’s stomach tighten.
“It’s all right, you don’t know me either.”
“It’s probably why we get on so well.”
She laughed. “Is this your definition of getting on well?”
“We’re both still standing.” Ethan cocked his head to the side, his expression intense. She could feel his gaze, almost like a physical touch as he looked at her body. Her breasts. She was certain he was looking there because she could feel it. “For now.” The air in the room seemed to thicken, a strange electric feeling arching between them as he took a step towards her. Only one step. No more. And she had the feeling that if there was going to be anything more, she would have to make the next move.
Her feet seemed to be rooted to the spot.
“I guess we’ll get to know each other in Australia,” she said. “Although I think it’s kind of a raw deal, you hiring me and then making me ask my boss for vacation time.”
“I’ll keep you busy,” he said, his voice rough. “And yeah, we may get to know each other a little better.”
“We won’t actually be staying with my grandparents.” Ethan turned to look at her as he navigated the busy Brisbane expressway and took an exit that led off into one of the suburbs.
She could swear that Ethan’s accent had thickened the moment they’d landed in his home country. And she liked it. A little bit more than she should. But it was fascinating, being alone with a man like this. It was something she’d never really experienced before. Well, discounting her piano instructor.
“Where will we be staying?”
“One of my hotels. On the beach. I think you’ll like it.”
“How long have you owned it?”
“It’s been there for years, but I bought it and had some renovation done on it about six years back.”
“I’ve been here before,” she said, looking out the window at the passing scenery. “I didn’t get to see anything. Just the roadway from the airport to the hotel, to the theater, then back to the airport. We went to Sydney after. I didn’t get to see much of it either.”
“You never went sightseeing when you traveled?”
She bit her lip. “When we were in Europe we did a bit of it, as part of my schooling. I had a good tutor. He made sure I finished my studies early. I graduated at fifteen, so I was able to practice my music more.”
“Have you ever concentrated on anything but your music?”
“I’ve just been concentrating on breathing this past year,” she said, watching the deep green eucalyptus trees blur together into a continuous smear of color. “And before that, just breathing and playing. I want to do more than that now.”
“Data entry?”
She shot him her deadliest glare, which, she knew, wasn’t very deadly. She’d been told she looked like a Kewpie doll more than once. Not very threatening. “Something more than that maybe even. But it’s a good start.”
The car pulled up to a massive, wrought-iron gate and Ethan leaned out the car window and punched in a series of numbers. “Gated community,” he said. “Nothing but the best, you know.”
“I think it’s nice.” The car wound up a long, winding hill and she knew that Ethan’s grandparents’ house was certain to have billion-dollar views.
“It’s a bit pretentious, actually, but don’t tell my grandmother I said that.”
“I wouldn’t.”
He turned to her, sliding his hand across the expanse of seat between them. He laced his fingers through hers, his thumb drifting over the back of her hand. She felt goosebumps raise up on her arms. He hadn’t touched her for a long time. Only a few days, actually, and yet … it felt like a really long time.
“I’m going to introduce you to my grandparents and get the family ring from my grandfather after dinner, let him know my intentions and all that.”
Her heart slammed against her breast. She nodded, trying to pretend she was unaffected.
“And then I’ll give it to you after we leave. We’ll have to come up with a nice story for my grandmother because she’ll want all the gory details. Women always do.”
“Yes. True.” Her stomach tightened, a sick feeling spreading through her. “I … I don’t know how I feel using your family heirloom ring when it’s … when we’re lying.”
“So? I’ll return the ring when our marriage fails. What difference does it make?”
“None, I guess.” Except it kind of did. “Why didn’t your mother end up with the ring?”
“It wasn’t new. She doesn’t really like antiques.” The corner of his mouth curved up slightly. “She likes really modern stuff. Spot-on trend. And my grandmother never would have let her put it into a new setting.”
“Family traditions shouldn’t be broken. I mean, I don’t think. We didn’t really have any.”
It was no use feeling wistful about it. She’d spent so long just wishing things were different. From the moment she’d realized her life wasn’t like other girls’, she’d wanted something else. More. A connection with her mother that wasn’t based on her career.
But that hadn’t happened. It had always been about Noelle’s career for her mother. About what she could do, what she could get thanks to Noelle’s talents. Noelle accepted it now, more or less. Anyway, the charming revelations Ethan had uncovered about her mother made her realize Celine wasn’t the kind of woman she wanted a relationship with anyway.
No, she wasn’t going to waste time being pouty about what she had and what she didn’t have. Not anymore. She was going to take the money, and she was going to get on with her life. She would take her new office skills, or her rediscovered favor with the media, and she would make something of herself, and manage her own money. Without her teacher. Without her mother. Without Ethan.
She was done being played like a puppet. She was in charge now.
“Mine have more to do with status than sentimentality. My mother is new money, you see, so she doesn’t understand how special it is to have things that have been passed down. Or so I’ve heard,” he said, his words cut short as they passed through another gate and onto the grounds of an opulent estate with lush, manicured grounds and three fountains stationed right out front, seemingly for the sole purpose of trumpeting that the people who owned the house had money. Bags of it.
Ethan pulled the car through and parked it in the drive. “My grandparents have valet service,” he explained dryly.
He got out and rounded to her side, opening the door for her. “Full service,” she replied, standing to find herself just about breast to chest with him.
“I’m a full-service kind of guy,” he said, his eyes seeming darker, his voice rougher. She wished she knew what he was thinking whenever that happened. Why it seemed like one part attraction, one part anger, and complete confusion.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and put her hand to his stubbled cheek, to find out how rough it would be beneath her palm. She wanted to. Badly. But she wouldn’t. That part wasn’t really confusing. But it was crossing boundaries she wasn’t here to cross.
No show without an audience. No touching unless someone was around to witness it. Otherwise it would just be a personal indulgence and she wasn’t about to go there.
“I have no doubt,” she said, turning away from him.
“Ready?”
She started playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons in her head, imaging her fingers moving over the keys. Finding her balance, her center and her tempo. “Ready.”
“Then let’s meet my family.”
As always, a family dinner was a formal affair at his grandparents’ home. He’d always found it part of their upper-crust, slightly stiff charm. They weren’t perfect, and they were hardly suburban normal, but life with Nathaniel and Ariana Grey had been much more functional than life with his parents.
And after his mother’s breakdown, this was where he’d spent most of his time. His father had been too busy, his mother too ill. And as controlling as his grandfather could be, at least he cared.
When it came down to it, he wasn’t overly thrilled about lying to them, any more than Noelle was. But no matter how stern his grandfather pretended to be, he’d never had it in him to cut off his only son.
But Ethan had what it took. No question.
He took Noelle’s hand in his beneath the table. A subtle gesture, not one of open ownership. The kind that had the appearance of being only for them, something intimate and special, but was really for the benefit of everyone else. The art of performance.
Still, even if it was a gesture meant for everyone else, the feeling of her silky-smooth skin beneath his palm sent shocks of pleasure through him, desire tightening his gut, making his blood hot.
Noelle Birch was slowly driving him crazy. How else could he be getting hard from holding hands, of all things? Hand-holding hadn’t gotten him hard when he was fourteen. He had no excuse for the reaction now.
His grandfather’s eyes were fixed on Noelle, and Ethan knew Nathaniel had made the connection. Fifteen years might have passed since the affair between Celine and his father had ended, but no one had forgotten.
“How long have you been seeing each other?” Ariana smiled at them both and he wondered whether his grandmother actually hadn’t recognized Noelle. Maybe her manners were simply so polished that nothing could tarnish them.
Noelle looked at him, her blue eyes slightly panicked.
“A few months,” he said. “Quietly.”
“Must have been,” his grandfather said. “I haven’t seen anything about it in the news.”
“I don’t always rate the papers,” he replied.
“But she would.” Nathaniel dipped his head in Noelle’s direction.
Noelle cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “Not always.”
“So, Noelle, you used to travel quite a bit.” Nathaniel’s focus was on her now. “What are you doing with your career these days?”
Noelle shifted in her seat, her fingers tightening around his for a moment. “I’m on hiatus.”
A laugh stuck in Ethan’s throat.
“Good.” Nathaniel nodded. “A woman needs to focus on things beyond a career.”
“If she wants to, I suppose,” Noelle replied.
The laugh escaped this time. “You’ll find Noelle holds to her own opinions,” Ethan smiled wryly.
“Good,” his grandfather returned. “Doesn’t do any good for a woman, or a man, to have nothing outside of a relationship.” The look he gave Ethan was pointed.
“No,” Ethan said. “It doesn’t.”
“Drink, Ethan?”
Ethan nodded and stood from the table, leaning in to drop a kiss on Noelle’s cheek. He paused just before his lips brushed her skin, her scent halting him for a moment, just a moment, long enough to savor it, to let it fill him. He couldn’t define what it was she smelled like, because it was so unique to her.
Her posture went rigid and she turned her head slightly, like she was anticipating the touch of his lips, but dreading it. He cocked his head to the side and skimmed his lips over her jawbone, just beneath her ear.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he whispered, trying to ignore the fierce tightening of his stomach.
He followed his grandfather down the hall, dark and carpeted with a threadbare Aubusson that spoke of age and money, into his study and shut the door. He crossed to the bar and took out two glasses, one for him, one for the old man, and a bottle of whiskey. He added three fingers of the liquor to the glasses and handed one to his grandfather, raising the other to his lips.
“What exactly are you playing at here, Ethan? Noelle Birch? Am I expected to believe this is a happy coincidence?”
Ethan shrugged and took a swallow of his whiskey. “Don’t know if I’d call it happy.”