Page 2

It takes me another hour—and a second, smaller duffel for my makeup—to pack everything I’ll need for my “vacation” at my brother’s house. My lawyer would say it’s technically called “fleeing the country”, but I just need a little bit of space from my overbearing stepfather and my weak-willed mother. Maybe once they realize I’m gone they’ll understand what a horrible mistake they made, cutting me off the way they did.
A quick glance at my phone tells me I’m already running late for the plane, which means I need to get a move on. Not because I care about being late, but because my parents will be home by ten. And my whole plan will be ruined if they catch me leaving.
I snag one of our staff to carry my bags downstairs for me. The car I called is already waiting for me outside, and Benedict helps the driver load everything into the trunk.
“Where should I tell your parents you’ve gone, Miss?” Benedict asks, his gloved hands folded neatly behind his back and a carefully blank expression on his face.
“Nowhere.” Pulling a crisp hundred-dollar bill—recently “relieved” from the safe in my parents’ bedroom—from my purse, I slip it into the breast pocket of his suit with a wink. “You never even saw me tonight.”
A ghost of a smile flits across Benedict’s face. “Very well. Safe travels, Miss Juliet.”
“Thanks, Benny.”
I step around him and duck into the car, excitement beating at my breast as the driver closes the door behind me. This is almost as thrilling as the time I borrowed that emerald necklace from old Mrs. Winters and then wore it to her Christmas party less than a week later. Poor old bat had no idea, and I got compliments on it all night long.
Man, was I devastated when the cops confiscated that particular item.
Oh, well. I’m sure I can find something to occupy my time on my brother’s island. Maybe not stealing, since that’s what got me into this mess in the first place. But it is a tropical paradise, after all, so there must besomethingfun to do there.
I spend the drive to the airport scrolling my various social media accounts, deliberately not liking or commenting on anything. I haven’t been active online in over twenty-four hours,and the only activity on my phone is the call I made to my brother earlier today.
Let the police and the media make of that what they will.
I do feel a small twinge of guilt as I pause on a picture of some of my closest friends partying it up on a yacht. Nobody knows of my plans, and they’re sure to be devastated when news of my disappearance hits the media. But telling them would ruin the whole plan, so I ignore the ache just below my heart and swipe away from their picture.
The car stops and I grin at the sight of the massive personal jet waiting for us on the tarmac. Jasper’s plane is even larger than his father’s, and I take personal satisfaction from the knowledge that it must piss Arthur Blackwood off to no end to be so overshadowed by his own son.
When the door opens, I climb out of the car and head straight for the plane, trusting the driver will follow shortly with my bags. A pretty blonde flight attendant greets me at the bottom of the stairs. “Miss Blackwood. We’ve been waiting for you.”
There is a hint of rebuke in her words, but I brush over it with a smile. “Well, I’m here now so all’s well that ends well, I suppose. I’ll need a bottle of champagne for the flight. I assume my brother keeps his plane well stocked?”
“You’ll be well taken care of Miss Blackwood, I assure you.” Something glitters in her eyes, and I have the uncomfortable feeling I’m on the wrong end of some practical joke.
Shaking off the sensation, I step up onto the stairs. “Champagne, perhaps some chocolates as well,” I tell the flight attendant over my shoulder as we climb.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” The deep, familiar voice stops me in my tracks as I step into the plane. “Chocolates are only for good girls, Juliet. And you have been very, very naughty.”
Jasper
Making the six-hour-round-trip flight to retrieve my sister required quite a bit of shuffling in my schedule. But it’s all worth it for the look of pure shock on her face when she sees me. Pale blue eyes round in a face that would have made Boticelli weep, her blonde ponytail swings wildly as her head snaps back as though she’s been physically struck.
“Jasper? What the fuck are you doing here?”
My palm literally itches to connect with her ass, to teach her the manners she’s sorely lacking, but I restrain myself. For the moment, at least. “I came to escort you to the island. Little girls shouldn’t travel alone.”
Lip pulled up in a sneer, she rolls her eyes. “I am not a child, Jasper. And what the hell do you think is going to happen to me onyourjet?”
Oh, sweet sister. You have no idea what’s about to happen to you.“Sit. We’re already behind schedule and I’d like for us to get in the air as soon as possible.”
“Fine, fine.” Waving a dismissive hand, she drops into the seat directly across from me, crossing her shapely legs, left bare by the cutoff denim shorts that no doubt cost more than most people make in a month. She looks around, her gaze zeroing in on Kerry, the flight attendant standing just off to the side awaiting my orders and snaps her fingers. “You. Hello? Where’s my champagne?”
Kerry looks to me, clearly waiting to see if I will approve this request. “A bottle of water for each of us, please, Kerry. Thank you.”
“Um, no.” Annoyance flashes in Juliet’s bright baby blues. “I don’t want water. I want champagne.”
“And I said ‘no’, little girl. Put your seatbelt on. We’re about to take off.” And I would much rather have this discussion with her in the air, where she can’t suddenly change her mind and go running back to her mother.
Yanking at the seatbelt with an annoyed huff, Juliet shoves the silver buckle into place just as Kerry returns with our waters. “I don’t want water. I want champagne.”