Page 183 of The Company

And that’s it. We start the walk back up the path to the house. Since we’re facing it now, I can see it all lit up in the distance. It’s massive, for sure. And overwhelming in its opulence.

Growing up on a yacht is a very luxurious experience, because let’s face it, megayachts are pretty special. But no matter how big your ship is, it’s never big. It’s still a boat when you get down to it. It’s still got a finite amount of space that everything has to fit inside.

So this mansion, to me, signifies wealth.

I grew up wealthy, but I didn’t have a frame of reference to compare my life to except the local indigenous populations of the islands we frequented. They were poor, but think about it, we all lived in the same place. Paradise. We sat on the same beaches. We swam in the same turquoise blue ocean. My cabin was probably the same amount of square footage as the small bedrooms the other girls on the beach lived in.

We were not so different in my eyes. I’m sure their perspectives are different. But my perspective counts too. And that’s what it was. So moving to the beach—into that small, cramped studio apartment—well, that was not so difficult for me. James’ house in the desert, same thing. It was actually rather spacious. Not that we spent much time there. But it was comforting to have a small space with the open desert around. It mirrors the experience of our boat surrounded by the sea.

Merc’s house? That was perfection. It was plain on the outside, but inside it was cozy and inviting. I’ve never met Merc, but he must be a pretty cool guy to have a home like that. It was like… a refuge.

I look up at the looming house before me and try to put the feeling it evokes into words. It’s like… a citadel… a fortress. A—

“Harper?”

“Yes?” I answer to break up my thoughts.

“If you’re not hungry for dinner, do you mind stopping in the kitchen to have a snack with me?”

When I look up, his eyes are soft and his mouth is turned up in a slight smile. “What kind of snack do you normally eat?”

“Hmmm.” He thinks. “I’m not much of a snacker. I like meals. But I can bend, Harper. I’m not rigid. And maybe all you want is an apple? Or some crackers and cheese? There might even be some pastries.”

I have to smile at that. I bet this guy never eats cookies from the looks of him. Sure, his body is pretty much the same as James’. But I’m sure James keeps trim from work. I bet Vincent keeps fit with diet and exercise like most people.

“OK. I am hungry, it’s just—” My words fail me and I look around the massive living room as we walk through the French doors.

“It’s just too much,” Vincent says, leading me down a dark hallway.

“Yeah, it really is. I’m overwhelmed.” We stop in an entrance and Vincent must find the light switch, because the blackness is suddenly illuminated. The kitchen is… industrial. Not warm and homey like the one at Merc’s house. I’m disappointed.

“Look,” Vincent says, looking down into an open bin built into the side of the wall. “Croissants?”

I make a face.

“Danish?”

A shrug this time.

He reaches down and pulls out a bag of rolls. “Bread and butter?” That makes me laugh because I know I’m being ridiculous and bratty. “I can throw in tap water if you want the real prisoner experience.”

I frown. Because that’s the word I was looking for outside as we walked towards the house. Not prisoner.

Prison. This place reminds me of a prison.

“Harper, just tell me what you want. I’ll get it.”

“James,” I say before I can stop my mouth.

“Oh.” He drops the rolls back into the drawer and closes it up. “OK. Well, I guess I’ll just show you back to the bedroom and then I’m going to turn in. Maybe we can try again in the morning.”

“Try what again, Vincent? What exactly do you expect of me? I’m in love with your brother. How can you possibly expect me to turn that off? Just because you look like him doesn’t make you him. People aren’t interchangeable. And I’m sorry you were the one promised to me. He was the one who found me. He was the one who came to me. He was the one who claimed me. And I let him. So no amount of wining and dining can make up for the fact that you came into my life too late.”

He waves me back out into the hallway and turns the light off as we exit. The walk back to the bedroom is silent and heavy with regrets. I’m sorry I talked harshly to him and I’m sure he’s sorry his brother beat him to the beach. But what can I do about this? I’m not going to give up on James before he even has a chance to talk to me about what these people are saying. That’s stupid.

When we get to Vincent’s bedroom, he walks in with me. But before I can protest about him spending the night in here, he puts his hand up. “Don’t worry. I’m just grabbing clothes and then I’ll leave you alone.” And then he turns and walks into his closet.

A few minutes later he emerges with a handful of clothes and gives me a smile. “Good night, Harper. I hope you have a restful sleep.” He pulls the door closed behind him and I’m alone.

I breathe a huge sigh of relief and strip out of my dress. I hang it up, admiring it as I put it back. It’s very pretty. I should’ve looked at myself in the mirror more so I could remember it. I doubt I’ll have a lot of dressing-up opportunities with James once he comes to take me back.

I shake away my melancholy thoughts and choose a tank top and a pair of soft shorts to sleep in. Once I wash my face and brush my teeth with a toothbrush fresh out of a package, I climb into the big bed. I expect it to smell like Vincent. His cologne. But it doesn’t. It smells like laundry soap. He put fresh sheets on for me.

What a day, I think as I lay my head back into the soft pillow. My stomach is empty and rumbling, but my eyes are heavy and they win the war in the end. Because as soon as they close I’m dreaming of seeing Nick again. Of our birthdays coming up. Of Sasha and cozy homes in the desert like Merc’s.

And of a life filled with James Fenici.

Because a life without him is not worth living.

There’s no replacement for my James.