I glared at Finley. “You brought him,” I said in an accusatory voice.
“He’s staying in a hotel,” Finley said, barely noticing that Marco was removing her coat. He bent down to untie her fluffy snow boots.
I cringed. “Stop. Marco, stop. Right now.”
Marco slipped off her second boot and set them perfectly side by side, standing up and waiting with want in his eyes—not the sort of desire a woman my age would want an exotic, gorgeous man like Marco to have. He was waiting to oblige me, please me, take care of any need I had, and not for me—for Finley. He didn’t simply take pride in indulging his employer and anyone who surrounded her—it was his obsession. Appeasing Finley and her entourage at once was his specialty, and he loved to show off his talents.
“Could I just,” he began, reaching for her bags.
“No, no you can’t,” I said, slapping his hands away. “Take your luggage and find your hotel. Finley will be able to breathe for herself this week.”
Marco fidgeted, unsure how to grant my demand.
Finley smiled at him with feigned patience. “It’s fine, Marco. Go on. Enjoy your vacation.”
He nodded a few times, both confident and unsure, clearly unsettled at leaving Finley to her own devices for more than a few minutes.
Marco kissed her hand. “Should you need anything, Miss Edson, I’ll be here within ten minutes.”
She pulled away slowly, waving him away, indifferent to his charm.
Marco looked borderline devastated as he collected his baggage and closed the door behind him.
I sighed. “That shit is getting out of hand.”
She smirked, walking the few steps to hug me tight. “You’re just jealous.”
I squeezed her once, and then pulled away. “Does he wipe your ass? Only then would I be jealous.”
Finley laughed, pulling off her gloves and walking down the hall to the piano room. She tossed them on the chaise and sat, relaxing back and crossing her socked feet. Her golden hair fell in soft waves just past her shoulders, shiny and perfect like it should be after the money she’d spent to keep it that way. “Not that he hasn’t tried, my love. You’re right, he would probably breathe for me if he could.”
“Isn’t that annoying?”
“Not really. I worry about nothing except what I have to worry about.”
“When do you go back to work? Is Daddy’s board still bitching about your promotion?”
She sighed. “Soon, and yes. How’s Winterland?”
I looked out the window. It wasn’t snowing, but the wind was blowing icy globs from the tree branches. “I think I’ll be ready for the sea.”
She watched me as her red lips pulled to the side. “You don’t look ready.”
I picked the navy-blue polish off my thumbnail. “I feel numb. We’ve tanned on every beach. Skied every resort from Estes to the Alps.”
“You’re bored?” Finley asked, amused.
“Displaced.”
Finley rolled her eyes, disgusted. “Don’t do that, Ellison. Don’t become a goddamned cliché. The rich girl who is bored with life, surrounded by everyone and no one, feeling all alone.”
“Don’t patronize me. I recall you going through a phase.”
“I shopped and spent a month with you in Barbados. I didn’t fuck my way through it. You’ve always enjoyed your pharmaceuticals—you get that from Mother—but for Christ’s sake, Ellie. Pick a hobby. Get a boyfriend—or girlfriend. Find a cause. Find God. I don’t give a fuck, but don’t whine about having too much money and too many options.”
I wasn’t sure what expression was on my face, but it might have mirrored Finley’s. I covered my eyes, and then sat down on the sofa, leaning back. “Fuck, you’re right. I’m Sterling.”
“You’re not that bad, but you’re one stint in rehab away. You’re not bored, you’re empty. Stop trying to fill up with coke and hash. You know that shit doesn’t work.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “The fuck, Finley. When did you start adulting? You have a ladysitter who stirs your coffee, and you’re coaching me on life choices?”
She stood up, walked the few feet to the sofa, and collapsed next to me, hooking her legs over my lap. She interlaced her fingers between mine. “Betsy OD’d. I don’t want that to be you.”
I sat up. “Betsy March?”
Finley nodded, rubbing my palm with her thumb. “Nine months ago, she was where you are. We all saw it.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’ve been MIA, Ellie. No one sees you anymore. Except maybe Sterling.”
“We’re going to Sanya next week.”
“I haven’t seen you in six months. Betsy was empty. I don’t want to hear about you being found lying in your own excrement on the floor. This is our sister talk. You’re fucking up. You need to man up and handle it.”
“Mandle it?” I said, smiling brightly.
Finley was trying to keep it light, but she quickly wiped her eye.
I reached for her. “Fin. I’m fine.”
She nodded. “I know. We’re all fine until we’re not.”
“Come on. You’ve been traveling all day. We’ll run you a hot bath, relax, and order in.”
She smiled at me. “No wonder you’re bored. That sounds dreadful.”
“Fine, take a hot shower, and then we’ll go to dinner and find a bar with a bunch of hot locals.”