The Secret Diamond Sisters (16 page)

“She’s at the gym,” Courtney told him. “I don’t know when she’ll be back, but I can text her.”

“I wanted to talk to the three of you together, but I have a meeting in thirty minutes, so you’ll have to relay to her what I’m about to tell you,” Adrian said. “Tomorrow night I have a dinner reservation with a colleague at one of his hotels. You three will come as well, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.” He looked at Peyton as if she needed extra reminding.

“Of course,” Courtney said before Peyton could think of a snarky remark—not like Peyton was alert enough to do so. “It sounds fun.”

Peyton snorted softly. Adrian and Courtney ignored her.

“The reservation is at eight,” Adrian told them. “We’ll meet in the lobby at seven-thirty, where the car will pick us up.” He glanced at his huge gold watch. “Once the grand opening is over I’ll have more free time, and I want to spend it getting to know the three of you. In the meantime, if you have any questions, I hope you’re not afraid to ask. I know this whole situation is rough, and I want you to be able to come to me.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you told us at dinner...about what happened to me when I was younger,” Courtney said, playing with her hands. “Is that the whole reason you stayed out of our lives for so long? Or is there more?”

Adrian’s eyes darkened, and Courtney wondered if she’d said something wrong. “What happened was hard on the whole family,” he said, his voice rough. “Your mother and I agreed it would be safest for you and your sisters to live away from Las Vegas.”

But “away from Las Vegas” didn’t mean Adrian had to be absent from their entire lives, especially with bodyguards looking after them 24/7. Having the guards outside their condo all the time seemed excessive, and after Grandma had shied away from discussing the kidnapping, it felt like there was more to the story than Adrian was letting on.

What could be so horrible that he and her mom felt like they had to keep it a secret?

“That’s the whole reason?” Courtney asked.

“Yes.” Adrian nodded and moved closer to the door.

“One more thing.” Courtney stepped forward and removed the parental approval form from her jean pocket. “I applied for a job at the Diamond Café this morning, and they need your signature before they can hire me.”

Adrian took the paper from Courtney’s hands, ripped it into two, and threw it into the nearest trash can.

Courtney’s mouth dropped open. “What was that for?”

“I will not have one of my daughters brewing coffee for my guests,” he said. “It’s not appropriate, and frankly, it’s insulting to the people who work there who need that money. The press would have a heyday wondering what kind of publicity stunt you’re trying to pull by working for minimum wage.”

“So you’re not going to let me work?” Courtney couldn’t believe this. “What am I going to do all summer? And how will I earn money?” She could only study for her SATs and read books for so long every day. She needed
something
else to occupy her time.

“Is there something wrong with your credit card?” Adrian asked, with a hint of a smile.

“No.” Courtney’s cheeks turned red. “But that’s not my own money. It’s yours. I didn’t do anything to earn it.”

“You are one of my daughters, so that money is yours, as well,” he said, as if this was a simple fact. “As I thought I made clear last night, you earn it by not getting into trouble and by doing well in school. Your job is to be a student. Once school begins, that will include extracurricular activities, sports and whatever else your college guidance counselor recommends to bulk up your college application. In your free time, have fun with your friends. If you need something else to do, there are plenty of volunteer opportunities around the area. Rebecca is involved with charities, and I’m sure she will be happy to help you find a reputable charity to which you can donate your time.”

“Okay.” Courtney’s head spun with everything Adrian had said. No one had ever forbidden her from working before. She would never feel right about spending money that wasn’t hers, but apparently he wasn’t giving her a choice. “I’ll ask Rebecca for help, then.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to head out. After my meeting I have my weekly golf game with my friend Garrett, but I’ll be available by cell phone if you need to get in touch with me. I hope you have fun today.”

They said short goodbyes, and then he was gone.

“Not exactly the loving father type,” Peyton muttered.

Courtney bit her lower lip. “I still feel like he’s keeping something from us.”

“He’s probably keeping a lot from us,” Peyton said. “He doesn’t even know us.”

“It’s strange, though,” Courtney continued like she hadn’t heard Peyton. “That I was kidnapped all those years ago. You think I would have known before now.”

“How would you have known?” Peyton said. “You were an infant. I was a little older than one, and I don’t remember. Even you don’t have a memory
that
good.”

“I guess so,” Courtney said, although she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story.

“I’m going to lie down some more.” Peyton groaned and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Remind me to never mix wine and vodka again.” She trekked down the hallway to her room, shutting the door behind her.

Courtney had heard that one before—mainly from her mom, but sometimes Peyton mixed drinks that weren’t supposed to go together and felt sick the next day, too. She went back to her room to continue reading, but couldn’t focus on the book. Her mind was reeling after the chat with her father. It wasn’t even the part about him not letting her work that upset her, because as much as she hated the idea of frivolously spending his money, she liked his suggestion about volunteering. It was that he didn’t want to spend any quality time with her or her sisters. He’d mentioned being busy with the grand opening, but he
was
managing to squeeze in that golf game with his friend. The only times he wanted them around were at family dinners.

If the family dinner tonight was like the one last night, would Brett be there? Courtney brightened at the thought and picked up her phone to text him.

Are you going to the family dinner tomorrow night?

Her phone buzzed a minute later.

Yeah. What are you up to right now?

Nothing,
she texted back.
Why?

Wanna go to lunch?

Courtney’s breath caught in her chest. Had Brett just asked her out? She reread the message, searching for a sign. But it could be a friend thing
or
a date thing. It was impossible to tell.

She wanted it to be a date thing.

Not that it could be. He was just reaching out to her because of the future step-sibling situation. No matter what, they could only be friends.

Sure,
she replied.
I’ll be ready in 15 min.

Brett told her he would come by her room so they could walk down together. Courtney hurried to her closet and rummaged through it. She wanted something cute, but she didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard to impress him. She settled on jean shorts and a white lace top that she borrowed from Savannah’s room. She slid into her flip-flops, and since it tended to be cold indoors, she put on a lightweight peach jacket, pushing the sleeves up to her elbows.

She wasn’t sure what Savannah would be more upset about—that she’d borrowed the top without asking or that she’d paired it with flip-flops.

She went natural with her makeup, using BB cream all over her face, neutrals for her eyes, peach blush on her cheeks, pink lip gloss and mascara. It was more than she usually wore during the day, but she wanted to look her best for Brett. She rubbed lotion onto her hands, since they felt like sandpaper in the Las Vegas desert, and ran a brush through her hair one last time.

Her phone buzzed on the countertop. She picked it up, her heart pounding in anticipation of what it could say. As she’d hoped, the text was from Brett.

Heading out. I’ll be there in a second.

He lived across the hall, so it really would be a second. She examined her reflection again—she shouldn’t be so nervous. It was unlike her to get bent up over her appearance. She’d had a great time with Brett at the fireworks last night. He enjoyed spending time with her because they had a lot in common, not because of how she looked. She shouldn’t worry about a casual lunch.

So why wouldn’t her pulse stop racing at the thought of seeing him? She didn’t know many guys in California, beyond the ones who’d asked her for help with schoolwork, but she’d never wanted to spend time with a guy as much as she did with Brett. She wasn’t even bothered by his interrupting her reading time.

The doorbell rang, and Courtney opened it, her breath catching in her chest when she saw Brett. His hair was messy, and he had on jeans and a forest-green T-shirt that matched his eyes. She was glad she’d gone for a casual outfit, too.

They greeted each other and were quiet when they walked to the elevator. Teddy followed them, along with another man in a matching suit whose short dark hair and thin face reminded her of the lead guy from
The Matrix.
She assumed he was Brett’s bodyguard. As they walked, Courtney had a sinking feeling that the silence was uncomfortable. They’d had so much to discuss last night, but now she had no idea how to start a conversation. It was stranger knowing their bodyguards could hear everything they said. Luckily, they seemed to care only about doing their jobs. But still, it was superawkward.

“I had a great time last night,” she said to Brett as she stepped into the elevator. “I’ve never watched fireworks in such a beautiful place before.”

“I thought you would like it,” he said.

“And your friends seem nice.”

“They liked you.”

“They said that?”

“They didn’t have to.” He gave her a shy smile. “Who wouldn’t like you?”

Courtney paused, unsure how to reply. She was glad when the elevator arrived at the lobby. Their bodyguards allowed them to walk ahead, and she and Brett fell into step as they walked along the outskirts of the casino. An old lady whooped at one of the slot machines, the flashing lights signaling she’d won. Courtney didn’t understand the point of slot machines. Mindlessly pushing buttons didn’t look fun, but she supposed it felt good to win. The casino seemed to always be packed, no matter what time it was.

The people who say New York never sleeps must have never visited Las Vegas.

“Where are we going to lunch?” Courtney tried to keep the conversation casual, not wanting to clue Brett in to how being around him made her thoughts bounce crazily around in her head.

He took a moment to consider it. “Do you want to eat at the Diamond or somewhere else?”

“The Diamond,” Courtney decided. “Since I’ll be living here for the next year, I need to learn where everything is.”

“Only for the next year?” Brett asked. “You’re not considering staying longer?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “To be honest, I hadn’t thought about it, but I’ll give it time to see how it goes. Of course it matters what my sisters decide, too. Well, Peyton’s graduating next year and will probably do her own thing, but I don’t want to be somewhere different than Savannah. She needs someone to watch out for her.” Plus, although Courtney was independent, she had always had her sisters. She couldn’t imagine being alone.

“Savannah seems to like Vegas,” he observed.

“She does,” Courtney said. “She thinks it’s Wonderland or something.”

“Maybe it is.” Brett stopped in front of a restaurant called the Grand Café. “Well, here we are. This is where you can get some of the best food in the Diamond, at any hour you want.”

The café lived up to its name, although it looked more like a luxury lounge than a café. The ceiling had to be thirty feet high, with crystal chandeliers hanging from it. Wide white columns supported the archway in the entrance, with green-and-white striped curtains draping down from the sides, like something out of a palace. A man in a suit played a grand piano in the back corner—Courtney recognized the song “Memory” from
Cats
—and the mirror in the back of the restaurant made it look like it extended back for miles.

The restaurant was packed, but Brett showed the hostess his VIP card, and she got them a table instantly. Courtney scanned the menu—they served breakfast all day long. When she saw they had Frosted Flakes French toast, she had to try it. It didn’t disappoint. She finished every last delicious bite.

The waiter placed the check on the table, and Brett put a black American Express on top of it.

“Adrian gave me a Blamex after he proposed to my mom,” he explained when he caught her looking at it.

“A Blamex?” Courtney had no idea what that meant.

“A black American Express,” he explained.

“We can split it.” Courtney reached for her wallet, even though breakfast was expensive and she was running low on cash. She still didn’t feel right using the credit card—“Blamex”—Adrian had given her. “I don’t mind.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Brett laughed. “Our cards both go to Adrian’s bank account, so it doesn’t matter.”

“He really doesn’t mind us spending his money so frivolously?” Courtney asked. “There must be some limit for how much we can spend per month.”

“There is no limit,” Brett said. “I wouldn’t buy a plane or yacht or start a luxury car collection without asking him, but it’s expected that you eat. I would hardly say eating is ‘frivolous.’”

“Yes, but my breakfast cost twenty dollars,” Courtney pointed out. “It was a special treat. Surely you can’t eat like that all the time.”

“Courtney,” Brett started, seeming unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say next. “My mom told me about how you grew up. It sounds rough, and I can’t say that I’ll ever fully understand it, but your life is different now. Adrian—your father—is one of the wealthiest men in America. You could eat out or order room service for every meal, and he wouldn’t notice.”

“But just because I can doesn’t mean I should,” she said. “It doesn’t seem fair to do that when there are people who don’t know where their next meal is coming from. I mean, back in Fairfield, we had enough food in the apartment for breakfast and dinner. My sisters and I had it good compared to some people in school. But there were times when my mom was in between jobs that the only real meal we had all day was our school lunch, and she was too busy drinking to notice how bad things were. Now I’m expected to eat expensive meals every day without thinking twice about it. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. It still doesn’t feel like this is my real life.”