Page 18 of Maximum Dare
At least it would take the heat off me.
“When I dropped Daisy off yesterday, she gave me the clothes you left behind. It’s just uniforms.”Along with your socks, spawned from hell.“I put them in the laundry.”
“You didn’t need to worry about that. I have uniforms at Morgan’s.”
I frowned at him. “Who’s helping Daisy move?”
“Don’t know.”
“Did she book movers?”
“She can’t really afford that.”
“Does she have a family member who can help? A brother, or…?”
Nick held my gaze for a long time. “He died.”
“Her brother? When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Before or after your dad passed?”
“Does it matter?” he snapped.
“She’s moving out of the house you both lived in, with no one to help her?”
“I’m sure her aunt will help her out.”
I paused the conversation long enough to return Mum’s wave. She was in her element, lording over a group of elites and holding court like a true icon of style—a former fashion model that still graced the covers of magazines. A touch of cosmetic surgery here and there had helped maintain her fiery beauty. She’d been hailed as Brazil’s Grace Kelly once, and even now her elegance made her the most beautiful woman here.
“Does Daisy have somewhere decent to move to?” I asked.
“I assume so.” Nick turned to face me again. “It’s unlike you to care about strangers.”
“I’m going soft in my old age.”
He chuckled. “You’re thirty-three.”
And looking every year of it… I was burned out from work and only now realizing it. I’d been driven to succeed over the last few years and rarely had time to spend with family. And Mum needed me now, so being here was the best decision I’d made in a while.
“Daisy asked me to return this.” I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the gold envelope she’d given me.
“It’s Morgan’s.” He gave a nod in her direction. “We can’t make the event. It conflicts with her schedule. Morgan has a Vanity Fair photo session instead.”
I turned it over in my hand. “What’s the invite for?”
We were interrupted as Mum rushed towards us, the crowd parting for her like Moses separating the Red Sea.
“Darling, you’re here!” Her Portuguese accent had faded slightly through the years, but the warmth of her demeanor was a constant in our lives.
“You look wonderful, as always.” I kissed her left cheek and then the right.
Gillian Banham looked quite regal and glamorous in her silver gown, with her quaffed blonde hair suspended in a sea of hairspray and diamonds shimmering at her throat.
Her cold hands cupped my face.“Meu lindo garoto. Tão precioso.You look more like your father each time I see you.” She pulled back. “Why didn’t you shave? Is this a new look?”
“I’m on vacation,” I replied, defending myself.
