Page 24 of Sunburned

“Alexander’s a math whiz, Benjamin’s more of a science guy,” I answered.

His eyes lingered on my face as he nodded. “That tracks. Kind of like me and Cody. I’m the ideas guy, he’s got the business sense.”

“As does Allison, I’m sure,” I said with a smile in her direction.

Allison and Cody again locked eyes across the table, and Allison nodded ever so slightly.

“Speaking of work, I got the list of council members who will be at the hearing tomorrow,” Cody said, directing his voice at his brother.

“Hearing?” I echoed. Tyson hadn’t mentioned a hearing earlier—I would have remembered that.

“City council meeting,” Allison clarified. “It’s not really a hearing. Some assholes don’t want the De-Sal center marring their view. Though the footprint is barely the size of one of the yachts you see out there.”

“It happens every time we’re breaking ground,” Cody added. “Some of them are worse than others.”

As Allison signaled the waiter for another glass of wine, I couldn’t help but notice the sleek curve of her bicep. I would kill to have arms like that. “The richer they are, the worse they are, and this is St. Barth’s, so these should be pretty awful,” she said.

The irony of this group’s complaining about the awfulness of wealthy people was not lost on me. But this meeting might be a good opportunity to meet the developers Tyson claimed hated him. “Is the meeting open?” I asked.

Allison shook her head.

From outside came the sound of an engine as headlights swept thefogged glass slats in the front door.“That’s our car,”Samira said in French, rising.

“Where are you going?” Tyson asked, switching to English. He was still smiling, but something dark lurked behind his eyes.

“Into Gustavia,”Samira answered, sticking to French as she and Gisèle gathered their palm-size purses from the kitchen island.

“I don’t think so,” Tyson said lightly.

Samira put her hand on her hip.“We talked about this earlier. We’re meeting friends.”

“Who?” he asked.

“You don’t know them.”

He sipped his Coors. “Then they’re not your friends.”

“I’ll tell the driver to wait,”Gisèle said to Samira, starting for the door.

“Go ahead, Gisèle,” Tyson returned calmly. “Samira won’t be joining you tonight.”

Samira’s jaw dropped.“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Tyson stood. He didn’t have to threaten her. They both knew he had all the power. “We’re not having this conversation here.”

Gisèle stood unmoored halfway to the door, her pretty face crumpled at the idea of being separated from her friend. “It’s okay,” she said. “I can stay.”

“No. Go,” Tyson instructed, waving her toward the door with his hand while keeping his eyes trained on his wife.

After a long moment, Gisèle threw Samira an apologetic glance as she scuttled out the door, quickly waving goodbye with a pinched forehead.

Samira snatched her purse off the island, her face dark. “You don’t own me,” she levied at Tyson in English for everyone’s benefit. She grabbed a bottle of wine from an ice bucket and spun to march toward the stairs down to their room, Tyson on her heels.

“He kind of does, though,” Allison said under her breath once they’d disappeared down the stairs.

I felt a pang of sympathy for Samira.

Tyson had always been a blend of light and dark, but he’d kept his dark side tightly tethered when I’d known him, masked by the charming face he showed the world. Now it seemed the tables had turned.

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