Page 30

OSCAR

I ’m chatting with the resort’s sommelier, hungry for insight on opening a winery. Earlier today it hit me: I want Makayla to succeed with every fiber of my being.

“As far as soil goes, it’s the single most important factor,” Henrik says. “Grow grapes in the wrong earth and you’re staring at a colossal financial failure.”

“I see. So we’re talking true Napa Valley soil.”

Still, my mind drifts to her—sated and asleep, naked and sprawled across the bed, sunlight streaming through the windows to gild her skin.

“If you’re focused on reds, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot are your best bet,” Henrik says. “Pinot Noir can thrive, too.”

“What about whites? Plenty of people crave a fruity, floral Chardonnay.”

Makayla. She’s one of them.

“Oh, absolutely. California weather is kind to Chardonnay. And—mind you—always choose natural fertilizers; organic wines are all the rage. Depending on your fertilizer and the barrels you ferment in … you could easily rival the Italians and the French.”

“Where should we source the vines?”

Henrik shakes his head. “Oh, no—you want to plant young vines straight into the ground. Seeding can fail across entire acres; you’d end up with bald patches.”

I glance across the lobby just as my brothers stride in. Kellan and Alex are still in their ski suits, red-faced and sweating. The strain etched into their stony features isn’t from exertion. Something is very wrong.

“Can you excuse me for a moment?” I ask the sommelier.

He nods cordially, and I herd my brothers toward the base of the main staircase. The moment we’re out of anyone’s earshot, they both start speaking at once.

“We have to do something about Melanie,” Alex says. “She’s threatening to go public with everything.”

“She’s threatening to tell Kay what we ‘did’ to her,” Kellan says. “That’ll blow everything up, whether Kay believes her or not.”

“Not here,” I say quickly, pointing them toward the elevator.

We may be out of earshot, but not private enough for this conversation, so they both follow my lead. The doors slide shut, and for a moment we’re alone.

“Can we go back to the suite?” I ask my brothers.

“I don’t know if Makayla is up,” Kellan says.

Alex checks his phone and exhales in relief. “She’s at the spa getting a massage,” he says, flashing the screen at us.

“Good. Do you really think Melanie will talk now?” I press as the elevator glides into the second-floor hall. “Right this minute?”

Kellan shrugs—exactly the response I don’t want. My teeth grind as the urgency crystallizes. It’s all I can do to keep a lid on it until Alex swipes the key card and we tumble into the suite.

“So we have no time to deal with this?” I demand.

“We have an ironclad NDA,” Alex mutters, shaking his head. “I don’t know what got into Melanie—or what game she’s playing—but one word from her could destroy everything.”

“She said she’ll tell Bryan and Makayla if we don’t pay,” Kellan says, his voice raw.

“How much?” I demand.

Both Kellan and Alex look at me like I’ve grown two heads.

“You can’t be serious about paying her off,” Kellan snaps.

“No.I just want to know whether Melanie has a number in mind. Two hundred grand again—or more? She just made junior partner; money shouldn’t be her problem—not at that firm,” I say, rubbing my chin. “There’s something else going on here.”

Alex exhales sharply. “She’s jealous. And increasingly unhinged.”

“Okay.” I struggle to map the ripple effects. “Did she give us a deadline?”

“We’re not negotiating with her,” Alex repeats. “Damn it, you’re the rational one—help us figure this out.”

“I am rational. I’m looking for a short-term fix,” I snap. “If Melanie violates the NDA or settlement, she dives headfirst into scalding legal and financial water.”

Kellan’s eyes flare with worry. “You should’ve seen her earlier, brother—she sounded serious.”

Alex lets out a low grumble. “Seriously unhinged.”

“So it’s not about money. If we threw another two hundred grand at her, she’d probably stay quiet,” I conclude. “She’s betting we’re terrified of public scrutiny of our—unconventional—private lives.”

“She’s also banking on the idea that settlements imply guilt even when the proof is flimsy,” Kellan says. “Kay might read it that way, too.”

“Bryan doesn’t know the details of our tryst with Melanie, but he’s not her biggest fan either,” Alex says. “Still, once she starts talking about us and Makayla, we’ll probably lose his support. We have to get ahead of it.”

I draw a slow breath, weighing the fallout.

Secrets hurt people long before they ever come to light. If we’re serious about building something lasting with Makayla, we need truth and transparency. The options are few—and none of them are comfortable.

“We should talk to Bryan and Makayla,” I say with a heavy sigh. “Loop them both in, whether Kay likes it or not.”

“This is turning out even messier than I feared,” Alex mutters.

I give him a half-smile. “I know. But it will get worse if we don’t get a handle on it.”

“I’m done being afraid of Melanie,” Kellan scoffs. “She won’t stop until we stop her—and the only way is to take away her weapons.”

Easier said than done, because I have no idea how we’re going to address this with Bryan. It might be even worse with Makayla.