Twisted (22 page)

“Hey.” Aria answered in a monotone, staring at her pruned hands. They’d probably never go back to normal.

“Where did you disappear to?” Noel asked. “I kept looking for you on the slopes but didn’t see you. I figured we’d meet up on the top of the mountain after Ski School.”

Aria wanted to dump the hot chocolate on his head. “Sorry, but Ski School didn’t teach me to ski moguls. But I hope you and
Klaudia
had a good time.” She hated her tone of voice, but she couldn’t hide her feelings any longer.

A crinkle appeared between Noel’s eyes. “
You
were the one who didn’t want her to give you a lesson. Don’t be mad because she went off and did her own thing.”

Aria balled up her fists. Of course this was her fault—Klaudia was totally blameless.

“Hey, do you guys know what time it is?” Christopher interrupted. “Hot tub!”

“
Sweet!
” Eric gave his brother a high five.

“I love
poreammeita
!” Klaudia jumped up and down like a kindergartner.

Noel looked at Aria. “What do you say? A soak in the hot tub before dinner? You’ll love it. I promise.”

Aria stared at the melting marshmallows in her hot chocolate. The sulking, pissed-off girl inside her just wanted to go upstairs, take a long shower, and watch a foreign film on pay-per-view. But she
was
freezing. Maybe a soak in the hot tub would melt away her irritation, too.

Fifteen minutes later, Aria had changed into her bikini and wrapped herself in one of the lodge’s terry-cloth bathrobes. She scampered across the freezing outdoor pool deck to the hot tub. Steam rose high into the air. The jets bubbled. The Kahn brothers were already soaking and drinking bottles of beer. When Noel saw Aria, he moved over to make space. She stripped off her robe, shivered in the subzero air, and slipped into the tub next to him.
Ahhh.

“This is beautiful.” Aria tilted her head up to the sky. Tons of stars twinkled brightly. The moon blazed just over the mountain. The glistening, falling snow on the mountain looked like a scene inside a snow globe.

“Told you you’d like it.” Noel squeezed her hand.

Eric Kahn leaned back and stretched his arms out on the deck. “I can’t wait to hit the slopes tomorrow morning.”

“I heard Klaudia say she’s really eager to go back out, too,” Noel said.

“That girl could really carve,” Christopher murmured. “I wonder what
else
she’s good at.”

The older Kahn brothers snickered crassly. Aria stiffened and stared hard at Noel, daring him to laugh too. Luckily, he didn’t.

Then, as if on cue, the door from the hotel opened. A figure appeared in silhouette. “Hallo?” Klaudia’s chirpy voice pierced the snowy air.

“Hey!” Eric yelled for Klaudia. “Come on in! The water’s awesome!”

Klaudia pranced over to the tub. She wore a similar bathrobe to Aria’s, the belt knotted tightly around her waist. Her blond hair spilled over her shoulders. Her bare legs protruded beneath the hem. The Kahn boys watched her, their tongues lolling like dogs. Then, slowly, like she was performing a striptease, Klaudia undid the belt to her robe. It dropped to the floor. She shrugged out of the robe and let it fall, too. Noel gasped. So did Eric. For a moment, Aria’s eyes couldn’t focus—all she could see was skin, lots of skin, like Klaudia had worn a flesh-colored bikini.

But then she realized. Klaudia wasn’t wearing anything at
all.
She was totally and completely naked.

“Holy shit,” Christopher blurted emphatically and appreciatively.

“Whoa.” Eric groaned softly.

Noel gawked at her, too. Klaudia just stood there like a freaky Finnish exhibitionist, her boobs swinging for the whole world to see. Not a single one of the Kahns told her to cover up. Why would they?

It was just too much. Letting out a pent-up scream, Aria pushed out of the tub, grabbed a towel, and ran for the door, barely feeling the frigid air on her skin or the icy concrete beneath her feet. Once inside, she wrapped the towel around her, staggered toward the elevators, and pressed the call button repeatedly. Of course this would be the one time the elevator decided to stop on every floor.

“Ahem.”

Aria jumped and turned. Noel stood in the doorway, steam misting off his half-naked body. There was a trail of wet footprints from where he’d come in. “Where are you going?”

Aria pressed the call button again. “To my room.”

“Shouldn’t you apologize first?”

She whipped around. “To
who
?”

“Klaudia didn’t do anything wrong, Aria.”

She gawked at him. “Are you
kidding
me?”

Noel just shrugged.

It felt like a billion blood vessels just burst in Aria’s brain. “Okay.
Okay.
Whatever. If you want to have your little foursome with Klaudia, that’s fine. But not in front of me, okay? I didn’t think I actually had to
watch
.”

Finally, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Aria marched inside, but Noel pulled her back out. His green eyes were full of hurt. “Aria, Klaudia’s crying out there. She didn’t realize she was supposed to wear a bathing suit in the hot tub. In Finland, nobody does! Guys go naked in hot tubs. Girls go naked in hot tubs. They’re not as prudish about it as we are. You shouldn’t have screamed at her—I would think that you of all people would understand the meaning of cultural sensitivity.”

Aria wrenched her arm from his. “Cultural sensitivity? Noel, Klaudia showing up naked at the hot tub isn’t a cultural thing—it’s a
slutty
thing!”

Noel’s mouth dropped open. He closed his eyes and shook his head like he didn’t believe her. Like he thought she was just being a jealous bitch.

The elevator doors started to slide closed again, but Aria thrust her foot between them and caught them. “Klaudia wants you, Noel,” she said icily. “And if you weren’t so smitten with her, you’d notice she’s being really obvious about it, too.”

She stepped inside the elevator doors and pressed down hard on the
CLOSE
button. Part of her hoped Noel would step inside and ride up with her, but he just stood in the vestibule, blinking at her, his face full of disappointment. With a
whoosh
, the doors closed, and in moments the car swept Aria up to her floor. Where Noel went after that, she didn’t know.

And she tried to fool herself into believing she didn’t care.

Chapter 25

One big happy family

At 8
P.M.
sharp, Spencer, Zach, and Amelia passed under the green-and-white awning of Smith and Wollensky, the upscale steakhouse on Third Avenue, and swished through the brass-handled double doors.

The bar area was six people deep, and everyone was shouting. Businessmen sat at giant oak tables eating rib eyes and juicy burgers the size of their heads. Trophy wives sipped martinis and winked flirtatiously at the white-coated Irish guys pouring goblet-sized glasses of wine behind the bar. The air smelled like testosterone and meat.

“Leave it to my dad to pick somewhere über-masculine,” Zach mused in Spencer’s ear as a hostess guided them around the crowded dining room to where their parents were waiting. “Do you really think your mom finds this place romantic?”

Spencer doubted it, but she pinched his arm. “Now, now. We need to be on our best behavior, remember?”

Zach raised a brow. “Actually, I propose we be on our
worst
behavior.”

“Oh? What are you thinking?”

“Drinking game.” Zach’s eyes sparkled. He reached into his bag and showed Spencer the very tip of a stainless steel flask. “It’s filled with Absolut Kurant.”

“Naughty boy!” Spencer whispered. “I’m in. Here’s my rule: Every time my mom fusses over your dad, we take a drink.”

“Deal. And every time my dad acts like a big shot, we drink.”

Spencer snorted. “We’ll be loaded before the food arrives.”

Zach raised his eyebrow. “Isn’t that the idea?”

Tingles shot up Spencer’s back. After their provocative moment in the dressing room, Zach had been even more touchy-feely than ever, brushing his hand up against Spencer’s waist and giving her unprompted hand-squeezes whenever Amelia emerged in a particularly fabulous outfit. When they’d passed Cartier on the walk down to Saks, he’d even grabbed Spencer’s hand and asked if she wanted to go inside—he’d buy her something. “Only if it’s a platinum love ring,” she teased. That had made Amelia give them both a sickened look and walk several paces ahead of them for the rest of the afternoon.

Mrs. Hastings waved at the three of them as they approached the table. Mr. Pennythistle sat on her right. Both were dressed in opera regalia, Mr. Pennythistle in a tuxedo, and Spencer’s mother in a beaded gown that clung snugly to her thin frame. An opened bottle of red wine already sat on the table, along with a platter of fried calamari. As they sat down, Mrs. Hastings made up a plate for Mr. Pennythistle. “I know you hate the ones with the tentacles,” she said in a motherly voice as she placed it in front of him.

“Thank you, dear,” Mr. Pennythistle said, picking up his knife and fork.

Spencer and Zach exchanged a glance, nearly bursting out laughing over the word
tentacles
. Zach covertly reached for his flask and poured some into his and Spencer’s glasses of sparkling water. They both took a big sip.

“So what did you kids do today?” Mrs. Hastings dipped a piece of calamari into the bowl of marinara sauce.

“Oh, we did the New York tourist thing,” Spencer said. “Saks, Bendel’s, Barneys. Amelia got a lot of great clothes.”

“Oh, those stores are lovely,” Mrs. Hastings sighed wistfully.

Mr. Pennythistle’s forehead wrinkled. “You didn’t go to any museums? You didn’t visit the stock exchange?”

Amelia clamped her mouth shut. Zach wilted in his seat. Mr. Pennythistle shoved a calamari into his mouth with gusto. “What about the tour of Carnegie Hall I arranged for you, Amelia? I had to pull major strings to get that.”

“I’ll go tomorrow, Daddy,” Amelia piped up quickly.
Suck-up.

“Good.” Mr. Pennythistle nodded, then glanced at Zach. “And are you telling me you didn’t meet with Douglas?”

Spencer glanced at Zach—she’d forgotten about his meeting with the Harvard admissions guy. Zach shrugged. “I didn’t feel like it.”

Mr. Pennythistle blinked hard. “But he was waiting for your call.” He pulled out his BlackBerry. “I’ll see if he can meet with you tomorrow morning . . .”

It looked like Zach was going to explode. “You know, not all of us want to go to Harvard, Dad.”

Mr. Pennythistle’s mouth dropped open slightly. “But . . . you’ll
love
it at Harvard, Zachary. Some of my best memories are from my time there.”

“It
is
a lovely school,” Mrs. Hastings chimed in. Mr. Pennythistle squeezed her hand gratefully.

But Zach folded his hands on top of the table, unblinking. “I’m not
you
, Dad. Maybe I want other things.”

Mr. Pennythistle looked like he was going to say something else, but Mrs. Hastings quickly interrupted. “Now, now, let’s not fight!” She pushed the plate of calamari over to Zach like it was consolation. “We’re all having such a nice time in New York. Let’s just keep it that way.”

A
ping
sounded from Mr. Pennythistle’s phone. “Ah,” he said, studying the screen. “Douglas can meet you at ten
A.M.
tomorrow. Problem solved.”

A waiter approached to take their orders. Spencer turned to Zach. “Are you okay?”

Zach’s jaw muscle twitched. Patches of red bloomed on his neck and cheeks. “Everything I say to him goes in one ear and out the other.”

“I’m sorry.”

Zach shrugged and covertly added more vodka to their waters. “Story of my life. But listen, we have some catching up to do. My dad was totally throwing his weight around.”

“We need to take at least five drinks, by my count,” Spencer whispered.

There were plenty more drinking opportunities after that, too. Once they ordered, the conversation turned to Mr. Pennythistle and how he was such a loyal Smith and Wollensky customer that they’d put his name on a brass plaque on the wall—
drink, drink, drink.
When the food came, Mrs. Hastings scrambled to procure steak sauce for Mr. Pennythistle’s T-bone, mayo for his fries, and the wine list so he could choose another bottle—
drink, drink, drink.
Spencer was so dizzy with vodka that she barely tasted her filet—she wasn’t even sure why she’d ordered it. Zach kept bursting out laughing at random intervals. Amelia stared suspiciously at them from across the table but didn’t say a word. She hadn’t been this wasted since . . . well, since this past summer. But she closed off that part of her mind before she could think too carefully about that.

As the dinner progressed, Zach’s father and Spencer’s mother moved closer and closer to each other until they were practically in each other’s laps. Mr. Pennythistle fed Mrs. Hastings a bite of creamed spinach
.
Mrs. Hastings wiped a dab of steak juice off Mr. Pennythistle’s cheek
.
Admittedly, Spencer hadn’t seen her mom look this happy in a long time—she and Spencer’s father weren’t very touchy-feely. Spencer and Zach had moved closer to one another, too, their feet bumping under the table, their hands touching as they drained Zach’s flask.

When the waitress brought giant slabs of cheesecake for dessert, Mr. Pennythistle clanged his fork against his glass. “Well, kids, I have an announcement to make.” He looked around the table. “We meant to keep this a secret until tomorrow, but we might as well tell you now.” He took Spencer’s mother’s hand. “I’ve asked Veronica to marry me. And she’s said yes.”

Spencer stared at her mother, who was unveiling a Tiffany jewelry box from her purse. The box creaked as it opened, revealing an enormous diamond ring. “Wow.” Spencer breathed, always feeling a little cowed by diamonds. “Congratulations, Mom.”

“Thanks!” Mrs. Hastings slid the ring on her finger. “We broke the news to Melissa before you guys arrived. She wants us to have the ceremony at the townhouse, but I’m thinking of something a little more fabulous.”