Before You Go (YA Romance) (20 page)

Then she sauntered off, while his fingers opened, letting go of the balloon.

19

 
Limos lined the glossy brick driveway of the luxurious Castillo de Zhu, their smeary red taillights blotted by the arched leaves of the massive palms shrouding the drive. Margo tried to count them, but the line was too long. She clutched a glass of chardonnay that Jana had poured for her, and she wondered how, on such a tiny island, accessible only by ferry and plane or helicopter, there could ever be so many limousines

It wasn’t the glitz that was getting to her nerves. She had been to parties before, and this one mattered less than any other. Margo didn’t care if she did things “right” here. A part of her wanted to do them wrong.

She downed the remainder of her drink when Jana looked the other way. Logan would be here, and she was going to find out if a night’s sleep had changed his mind.

Her door opened and she took the driver’s hand, standing up in her black taffeta gown. A security guy was waiting for her; he followed her and she followed Jana, who avoided the crowded lobby, taking a small stone path around the hotel to a supersized pool deck. There was a giant glowing sapphire pool in its center, with several smaller, leaf-shaped pools fanned out around it. There were at least a dozen
tiki
huts, stone pits where entire pigs were being slow-roasted, dozens of colored tents, lit up from inside and glowing in vibrant reds and whites and blues.

Margo’s eyes snapped to Logan like a magnet. He stood in a hut to her left, serving drinks to guests and looking underwhelmed. She said a quick goodbye to Jana, asked her guard to
please
watch her from across the floor, and then forced
herself
forward. Her stomach was doing flips, and her knees felt like they might not hold her weight.

By the time she neared his hut, he had seen her, too. She knew this because he froze in the act of pouring someone’s drink. He smoothly finished, and when the line cleared, he held a twinkling glass out.

“Would you like a drink?”

She searched his face, looking to his mouth and cheeks and brow to tell her what he’d decided.

She nodded—“Sure”—and watched relief seep through his features. She watched him reach for the chardonnay, fill her glass. He held it out to her with a smile that broke her heart. There was no sparkle in it. His face had gone pale, almost delicate. The wind blew his dark hair, and
she thought,
this is it
. He would tell her “no,” and she would run out to the beach, and she would have to dive into the ocean, because she would be on fire. She felt that, half a second before she noticed his eyes were fixed on something over her shoulder.

Margo turned around, and her gaze slammed into her mother.

Cindy was waiting outside the big white tent. Margo caught her eye, and she quickly realized that Logan had been right. Cindy wouldn’t like them together. She turned to face him with stone in her stomach.

She opened her mouth, but her throat felt too tight for words. Logan spoke for her.

“I—” The strain on his face finished for him. Or maybe he just chickened out. He squeezed his eyes shut, looked down. For some reason, that made her mad enough to talk.

“You what?” she asked flatly.

She watched his gorgeous eyes open, felt him slide from her grip; he had joined the other team, her mother’s.

 “Don’t bother. I can tell. You won’t even look at me. That’s your message, loud and clear. Thanks for the drink.”

She started to turn, but his hand was too fast. He grabbed her wrist, and Margo froze.

“I
can’t
…”

Though her heart clenched, she spoke up in a voice that was shockingly cold: “That must be nice,” she said, “that you just
can’t
. If you can’t do something, then there’s no real choice, is there?” Her fingers snapped. “Decision made.”

She had the fleeting, useless thought that she might love him. Then she jerked her arm away. “Good luck in the space business. I hope you go
far
.”

 
20

 He watched her glide to the white tent, saw Cindy beckon her inside. The older woman actually nodded at him, like
good job buddy
,
thanks
. Then the flap-door dropped, shutting him out.

Logan drew a ragged breath, used it to power his escape—out the side door, through the crowd. He burst into the lobby, bumping a man who cursed him in Italian. The crowd was even thicker inside, and by the time he made it into the men’s room, he was gasping. He twisted the faucet, splashed his face. Astronauts weren’t supposed to have scars or broken bones. The rigors of training, the pressure of G-force could tear already ruined skin, re-crack fractures that were decades old.

They weren’t supposed to have the emotional baggage he had, either.
For the same reasons.

And his files—medical, dental,
psychological
—were supposed to be private. Yet Cindy Zhu had them. Somehow she’d bought them and now his private hell was hers to know. It made him furious, but Christ, the woman practically owned him now. He couldn’t even work for a rival company without worrying that Cindy would spill everything.

He walked into the lobby, toward the office, where he could get another shirt. He put his hand over the scar slicing over his left temple, and something strange hit him. He hadn’t always been the way he was now. He’d been innocent once, just a kid.
Innocent like Margo.
A kid like Maggie.

He diverted course, headed for the pay phones. He was calling his sister, to tell her he was coming home—tomorrow.

21

 
“Do you want a drink?” Cindy looked from Margo to Jana.

The O manager nodded. So did
Johnathon
Graystone
, and so did the Russian man beside him. The one with the girl’s name Margo couldn’t remember.

Cindy leaned to Margo and said, “Orange Blossom. Very good here.”

Margo didn’t know exactly what to say, so she nodded, sparing only a glance for her mother. Cindy placed the order, and the conversation drifted back to business. She had no place in it, of course, but she didn’t care.

Tears stung her eyes, and at that moment, Mr.
Graystone’s
lanky son put his hand on hers. “Vincent,” he said.

“Nice to meet you.”

She’d been staring at him off and on for the past half hour, but he’d seemed a part of the conversation—almost an adult. Funny, now that she looked at him, that she’d ever thought that. The guy was awfully thin and sort of awkward, but he had a breathtaking face, with statuesque features that seemed designed for the heir to a fortune.

He smiled, and Margo tried to decide what color hair he had. Was it light brown or blond or was it orange?
Maybe a mixture of them all.
It brought out his fiercely green eyes and emphasized the princely planes of his face.

“Let’s go walking,” he said, standing. He came around the table and, like a butler, held his arm for her. Cindy waved her on, and Margo almost leapt out of her chair.

“Gracias,
señorita
,” Vincent said when they were out of the tent. “That gig was giving me the snores.”

Margo laughed, surprised at the sound.

“If we want to have any real fun we’ve got to get rid of the shadow,” Vincent whispered.

“How do we do that?”

“Like this.” And then Vincent dashed to the left, dragging Margo with him. He cut right across a dance floor before taking a sharp left.

They ran down a flight of stone steps, onto the beach.

Laughing, Margo looked behind her. The guard was gone.
  

Vincent smirked.
“Like I said.”

The shore was dotted with tents and several large bonfires. People were dancing, laughing. They kicked off their shoes—Vincent stuffed her
Ferragamos
in his coat pocket—and started walking.

“One of those tents is for Natalia,” he said. “She’s kind of a bitch, but it’s somewhere we could go.”

“Who’s Natalia?”

“You don’t know her?”

“No.”

“Natalia is
Repin’s
daughter,” Vincent said, like he was prompting.

“…And who is
Repin
?”

Vincent laughed. “The big Russian bastard we were eating with at dinner.”

“Yeah.
Man-girl.”

 
“What?”

“His first name is a girl’s name, right?”

“Ha.
Right.
Valeri
.”

Margo folded her arms. “I hardly know Cindy. I definitely don’t know any of her friends.”

 
“Well, you’re not missing much, believe me. They’re boring. Let’s go this way.” He pulled her toward the water, which lapped at the coral-colored sand. The music was fading as they moved. She heard a firecracker pop, but it was far away.

The only light came from the moon, but Margo felt comfortable. Protected, though the guy was rail-thin, and nothing about him said fighter.

“I want to hear about you,” he said. “Tell me about Cindy Zhu’s daughter.”

She felt a little off balance as she glanced at him; his face wasn’t Logan’s.
Which didn’t matter.
Wouldn’t matter, at least not right now.
What had he been saying? Oh, yeah.
Cindy’s daughter
.
“That doesn’t sound right.”