Highways & Hostages (15 page)

The blonde studied Phoebe’s face, and Phoebe felt heat creep up her cheeks. She wished she could’ve wiped the old, caked-on makeup from the blonde’s face. There was nothing like facing off with a woman who could be on the cover of
Vogue
when you looked like a hooker taking your walk of shame for the second night in a row.

The blonde released a heavy sigh, as if Phoebe’s very existence was an insufferable offense. “I believe you, but if I find out you lied—”

“I’m not lying; I don’t know anything. Can I have some of that water now, or are you going to hold out until my internal organs start to fail?” Phoebe gritted her teeth. “Please?”

The woman hesitated before rising and raising the glass and straw to Phoebe’s parched lips. Phoebe greedily sucked at the straw, her earlier humiliation replaced with sweet, liquid relief.

“I’m Claudia,” the woman offered.

Phoebe paused in her drinking and looked up at her. “Well, Claudia, that’s nice and all, but it still doesn’t explain why I’m here tied to a chair, or where the hell ‘here’ is.”

“Unfortunately, you and your sister have found yourselves in the midst of a decades-old rivalry,” Claudia said. “And the stakes have recently escalated.”

Phoebe narrowed her eyes. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Claudia heaved a weary sigh again and rolled her eyes. “Look, just wait it out, behave, and you’ll be free to go in a little while. You’ll be okay.”

“Um, two people have pulled a gun on me, and I think I was roofied; it’s a little too late to be promising that kind of thing.”

“Are you always this difficult?”

“Wouldn’t you
be in my situation?” Phoebe asked.

Claudia considered Phoebe’s response and gave a sharp nod. “Touché.” She turned to go, and then, thinking better of it, turned back around. “Sit tight,” she instructed.

“Can’t a girl get a burger around here?”

Phoebe recognized Claudia’s deep inhalation as a signal that her patience was wearing thin—she was used to it happening whenever she spoke with her mother.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Claudia walked toward the door.

“And I’m bored.”

Claudia stopped with her hand on the knob and turned around. “You’re in a
library
.”

“Tied to a chair.” Phoebe glared at her.

Claudia sighed. “I’ll see what I can do,” she repeated.

“Could I get a milkshake?”

“You’re pushing your luck,” Claudia said, slamming the door as she left the room.

Hmm. Maybe Stella led a more interesting life than Phoebe realized.

“Hey!” Claudia’s voice was extremely close to Billy’s ear.

Startled awake, Billy opened his eyes to see Claudia perched next to him on the sofa. After his earlier chat with her, Billy had gone to find Christoph. He was told to “be patient” and was promptly dismissed. After his hasty, almost spastic exit from Claudia’s presence earlier, he hadn’t been in any hurry to face her again so soon. Luckily, she’d volunteered to babysit the kid, so Billy returned to the sitting room for a nap. And now here she was, bothering him.

Billy rubbed his eyes, hoping he didn’t have any drool on his face. “Hey. How’s the brat doing?” He snorted. “Not that I really care.”

Claudia pulled her phone from one of her dress pockets and glanced down at it. “She’s fine. Pissed, and annoying like you said, but fine.” Claudia stopped talking and studied Billy. “You’ve changed.”

Billy’s face set into a deep scowl. “What did you expect? I’m not Alex’s annoying little brother anymore. I’m twenty-four. A grown man. Besides, you’re one to talk.”

It was true—Claudia was different. Billy hadn’t been all that close with her when he was young, but she’d always been nice to him. She was bubbly and outgoing. Now she seemed…harder, almost…calculating. When he talked to her she took her time before she spoke, as if playing out in her head all the different directions the conversation could go.

“Is that what this is all about?” Claudia asked. “Is that why you came here—you’ve got something to prove to your father?”

Billy bristled. “My father doesn’t care about me. Alex was the favorite, and now it’s Finn. It’s always Alex and Finn. You did it too.”

Claudia rolled her eyes, dismissive of him as always. “We were teenagers, Billy. Alex and I realized we weren’t a good pair, but Finn…”

He drummed his fingers on his knee. “I don’t want to talk about him, okay? I didn’t do this for anybody but me. I did this for myself, because if I continued to work under my dad, everyone would just see me as little Billy Beckham.”

“Being a ‘grown man’ doesn’t mean you have to approach every situation with guns blazing. The Billy I remember was sweet and thoughtful, despite the fact that Finn and Alex made fun of him for it. I didn’t mind when you hung out with us, because it was breath of fresh air from smooth-talking Alex and tough-as-nails Finn.”

Claudia placed her hand over Billy’s to still his fidgeting. “You can say what you want, but I know you miss Alex. Finn—”

She shook her head, and Billy saw a flash of vexation in her eyes—the same look he sometimes saw when he spoke to her father.

Billy’s eyes prickled. It pissed him off. He wasn’t going to cry, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it in front of Claudia of all people. He rubbed at his eyes. “My contacts are bothering me.”

Claudia remained silent, staring at him intently.

“Okay. Fine. I
do
miss Alex. I mean, I kind of hate him, but he’s still my brother.”

The corners of Claudia’s mouth lifted slightly. “I wish I had a brother or sister. I always thought you and Alex were so lucky. And then when Finn came you got
another
brother—”

Billy leaned forward and slammed a fist on the frosted glass of the coffee table. “Finn isn’t my brother. He’s not even part of the family!” he shouted.

Why did every fucking conversation go back to the guy?

Claudia arched an eyebrow and leaned in. “You were all so close. What changed that?”

“I grew up and I got tired. Tired of being treated like the little brother. Tired of being looked down on.
Especially
by someone who grew up on the streets. Who the fuck does Finn think he is?”

“You and I both know Finn didn’t grow up on the streets. Besides, that’s a really shitty attitude to have about someone who’s always had your back—or at least used to.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t thought the same thing. I remember you and Alex coaching him on what to do and who to speak to before my dad paraded him around those stupid society functions. None of you wanted him to embarrass you by being the ill-mannered punk from the wrong side of the tracks.”

“Not the same thing at all, Billy. And as much as I dislike the guy, you can’t really talk about being better than him when you’re sabotaging your own father.” Claudia yawned and stretched, clearly bored with the conversation. She rose from the couch.

Billy jumped up and choked out a laugh.

“What father? You don’t understand, but how could you with a dad like Christoph who gives you anything you want? I didn’t have my mother
or
my father.

“My mom died when I was five, and Alex was 11. He got more time with her than I did; I can barely remember her.” Billy ran a hand through his hair. “My dad didn’t know how to take care of a five-year-old kid by himself, so I was raised by a nanny until I was old enough for my dad to be able to ship me off to boarding school. But he sure did manage to take care of Alex.”

“Alex went to boarding school, too.”

“Yeah, but Dad had already started teaching him about the business and quizzing him before he went off to school. When he came back, Dad picked up where he left off grooming him to take over everything.”

Billy shook his head. “I thought I could win his attention and love if I showed an interest in the business. So I went to school and studied a subject I wasn’t interested in, just because I wanted to prove that I was willing and ready. When I came home, nothing changed—he still ignored me.”

Claudia bit her lip. “You know, our fathers are really similar. That’s why they still have a mutual respect for each other—or at least they used to. Part of the reason I went to school in Paris and moved to New York was to get away from mine; I felt smothered by his expectations. It was so deeply ingrained in me to please him. When finally I had the freedom to choose what
I
wanted to do, I didn’t know where to begin. I bet Alex feels the same way. Did you ever ask him?”

Billy didn’t answer. He looked away.

“It’s not too late to turn this thing around,” Claudia said. “You only get one dad.”

Billy shook his head and met her gaze, his eyes cold. “I made my choice. I’m going to see it through.”

Phoebe couldn’t lie: Being held hostage in a fancy place like this wouldn’t be such a bad deal if she weren’t so freaking bored. She was pretty sure she’d memorized practically every item in the room and counted every book. At least she was no longer hungry. Shortly after Claudia left, a man with one arm in a sling brought Phoebe some food. It wasn’t the double bacon and mushroom cheeseburger she’d craved, but at least her stomach was full.

God, she wished she had something to do. Or at least someone to talk to. Phoebe wondered where Stella was—scratch that. Obviously Stella was at the Leaky Stein. But what did Stella think about Phoebe’s disappearance? Was she out looking for her? Was she even worried?

One of the room’s large doors opened. Good. She totally needed to go to the bathroom. When she saw it was the Hugh Jackman lookalike, she groaned.

“I am happy to see you again as well,” he said as he stepped into the room, a devilish grin on his face.

“Fake-Hugh, we are not friends,” Phoebe said. “But it’s good you’re here because I need to pee. And I’m supremely bored.”

Fake-Hugh frowned. “Fake who?”

“Fake-Hugh. You know, like Hugh Jackman?”

The man’s brow furrowed. “My name is Marc.”

Phoebe gritted her teeth. “Marc, Fake-Hugh, whatever. I don’t care. I just need to go to the bathroom.”

Marc grinned, exposing a gold canine that glinted in the light. He shook his head before letting out a loud guffaw. “I’m not falling for that. I know what you did to Beckham’s eyebrows.”

Phoebe smiled prettily and pasted on her best I’m-so-innocent look. Behind her back she crossed her fingers. “That was just a one-time thing.”

The same man who’d brought Phoebe her food also entered the room. Her body tensed, ready for a fight. She looked from Marc to the newcomer, and back to Marc again.

“The room is ready,” the new guy said.

“What room?” Phoebe’s voice rose an octave as the two men approached her chair.

“We’re moving you to a different room,” Marc said. “Mr. von Rothschild’s orders.”

“Oh, is that so? And it takes two of you to handle little ole me?” Phoebe batted her lashes.

Marc towered above her, arms folded over his chest. “Do you want to move to the big bedroom with the flat screen TV or not?”

Phoebe narrowed her eyes. “Is there a bathroom?”

“It’s en suite,” Marc said.

“Well, then, what are you waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road. Pick me up, boys.”

Marc nodded at the other man. They lifted Phoebe’s chair and moved to the door.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that we’ve removed all flammable objects from your quarters,” Marc said. “Can’t you have you setting the house on fire.”

“Don’t worry—I’ve got better tricks up my sleeve.”

Finn was jarred awake by something soft but substantial bouncing off his head.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

Finn groaned and buried his face deeper into the couch cushions. He felt like he’d been run over by a truck…and then the truck reversed and ran over him again. He heard Stella walk past the couch. Then came the onslaught of a pillow attack.

“Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP.”

“Stop that! I feel terrible.” Finn lifted his head and glanced at Stella. She drank more than he did last night; how the hell was she so damn chipper? And how did she look like she’d gotten twelve hours of amazing sleep and spent the day at a spa? He probably looked like shit.

“You look like shit,” Stella said. “That’s the price of too much fun. Now get up. I’m hungry.”

Finn reluctantly sat up and immediately clutched his head with a groan.
This
was why he never partied; he was too old for hangovers. Stella stifled a laugh as he tried to run his hands through what he knew was terrible bedhead.

“Stop laughing or I’ll shoot you,” he muttered, stalking past her to the bathroom.

“I’m going to call Derek, okay?” she called.

Despite the painful feeling of his brain being too large for his skull, Finn was disappointed that after the fun time they’d had last night, Stella’s first inclination was to call Derek. But why wouldn’t it be? She didn’t owe Finn anything.

“Have a ball. I’ll be ready to leave in twenty.”

Forty minutes later, Finn found himself standing alone at the front desk in the lobby while Stella waited in the idling car. When they’d gone to load their bags, the Beetle hadn’t wanted to crank, but Stella managed to get it running. She didn’t want to turn it off just in case it decided it didn’t want to start again.

Neither Finn nor Stella had had much to say to each other while they were getting ready to leave; both were tired and trying to avoid the awkward aftermath of the previous night. Just thinking about Stella’s rejection made Finn want to crawl into a hole. What was happening to him?

“How was your stay, Mr. Gilroy? Was everything to your liking?” asked the lobby receptionist who was, thankfully, not Rachel.

“It was great,” he muttered, keeping his head down. Despite the shower, he knew he still looked rough. He definitely still felt shitty. Not just because of his hangover, but because he was mad at himself for getting irrationally upset about Stella’s call to Derek. What kind of name was Derek, anyway? And why did she feel like she had to call him all the time?

“Well, we hope you and your wife will come back and stay at our hotel again,” the desk clerk said with a smile.