Page 11 of The Bet
Chapter 4
“Take it easy, pal. You need to stay sober for tomorrow.”
“I’m getting over my jetlag.” Xavier held the glass up to the midnight blue sky and the stars sparkled as a backdrop. “I’ll be sober tomorrow, I swear.”
“Go and spend time with your family,” Luke urged. “You don’t have to hang around here.”
“Nothing beats the bar area.” Besides, he was hiding. Tobias had glared at him when he’d stepped off the boat late. It wasn’t his fault Gisele had chosen yesterday of all days to split up with him. What was he supposed to say when she told him the producer had asked her to turn up for her casting in her bikini?
“Who the fuck has an interview in a hot tub?” he’d argued. He was no prude, but even he could see that it didn’t seem right.
“Why are you so jealous?” she’d screamed back. “It’s no big deal!”
So they rowed, and patched up, and rowed some more—until he missed the plane and caught the next one out. He couldn’t wait to get out of New York fast enough.
He nodded at the sky. “Kinda neat out here, isn’t it?”
“I’ve been to many beautiful places,” agreed Luke, “And I’ve seen a few private islands in my time, but I’ve never seen anything likethisplace.”
“That’s my brother for you,” Xavier murmured under his breath. “Trust Tobias to get the biggest and the best fucking island he could get his hands on.” He eyed Luke, again. “Come on over to this side, dude. When my brother told you to take care of the drinks, he didn’t mean for you to be working all night.”
Luke shook his head, then was briefly interrupted by one of the waiters who had brought over a crate of clean glasses. “I don’t call this work,” he said, pulling the glasses out one by one.
“Should you be doing that? Why not let your people take care of the glasses andyouenjoy the party. Plenty of pussy to admire around here.”
Luke finished emptying the crate. “Tobias hired me to take care of things, and I’m taking care of things.” He rested his hands on the countertop. “And tone down the vulgar talk. You’re not at The Oasis now, and Xavier-The-Stud-Stone doesn’t need to make an entrance.”
“Besides, aren’t these people your close family and friends?”
“Notmyfriends.” There were plenty of familiar faces, and a couple of guys he had met through the mastermind group that Tobias belonged to—a bunch of wealthy New York businessmen who met every other month to talk about how to make more money and play golf all day long. He had finally caved in and gone with his brother a few months ago. It hadn’t been his thing. The men he met here were a mixture of mostly old money, and a few, like Tobias, who were hotshot wonder boys who had made good.
Xavier’s friends were more entrepreneurial—like Luke, more fly-by-the-seat of their pants, and all new money. They were the kind of guys who bought up companies, then sold them quickly at an inflated price, guys who dabbled in cryptocurrencies, and the stock market, and who believed that if you threw enough shit at the walls, eventually some of it would stick.
Hell, no. He didn’t want to end up in a boring conversation with any of Tobias’s mastermind friends.
At least he had Luke for company. He’d have been lost if he wasn’t here, especially now that Gisele hadn’t come along.
By the time he had arrived, sometime after 7 o’clock, the island was already teeming with guests.
At least he didn’t have to suffer the long-ass journey with his parents. They had already cut Tobias’s birthday cake by the time the boat dropped him off.
“Why aren’t you spending time with your brother?” It was his mother’s voice behind him, and it had the ability to freeze the blood in his veins.
“Dirty martini, please,” she said to Luke.
“He looks busy,” Xavier replied. No way did he want to go anywhere near Tobias.
His father sidled up on the other side. “It’s his birthday, son. Go and talk to him.”
Xavier groaned inwardly, his head dropping down so that his chin touched his chest. “About what?” he asked, lifting his head. This was typical of their parents. They were always walking on eggshells around Tobias—the genius, the son who became a billionaire, the apple of their mother’s eye.
“About the wedding, about his feelings, and maybe even apologize for missing his birthday celebrations,” his mother said. “Was Petuna? Petroleum? Petris to blame?” She held the cocktail glass to her lips, taking great joy, it seemed, from mocking him on purpose.
This was going to be a goddamn prison sentence. Four days on a remote island with his family. He couldn’t even swim to safety.
“I believe her name was Petra, Milly, and they split up some months ago.” At least his father kept up with the latest.
“It’s not like Mother doesn’t already know.” Xavier took a gulp from his bottle, then eyed his mother.
