Nacho Figueras Presents (16 page)

T
he house Jacob was staying in was exquisite. A gray and white three-story Greek revival perched high up on a hill over the sound. They parked on the circular driveway and stood side by side for a moment, taking in the incredible view of the sunset reflecting off the water.

“The guy who owns this place is a Wall Street broker,” said Jacob to Noni as he unlocked the front door, “but he has an amazing art collection. He actually has two pieces from my Fire series in the garden. You remember those?”

Noni nodded, recalling the huge, intricate steel and iron orbs that had a hollow in the center for bonfires. She had helped Jacob forge them.

“Those were some of my favorites,” she said. “I'd like to see them again.”

“I'll show them to you later. We can come back after dinner and light a bonfire or two.”

They were alone in the house. Max had begged to stay the night at Pilar's again, wanting to continue the fun he was having with Tomás. Pilar had said she didn't mind, that she wanted Max to be there in the morning to help her get started on the party, anyway.

The house was as beautiful inside as it was out. Hushed and opulent, with gleaming dark wood floors and warm halos and pinpricks of light designed to show off the breathtaking collection of art on the walls.

An appreciation and knowledge of art were among the few things that Noni was grateful that Benny had given her. The only times she could really remember her mother paying her any real attention was when she took Noni through the countless museums and galleries, big and small, in all the towns that they had lived in through the years.

Some of Noni's best memories were the mornings when she would wake up and find her mother at the kitchen table, dressed and waiting, a cigarette in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She would hand Noni a glass of juice and announce that she was skipping school, that there was something she wanted her to see.

And Noni saw amazing things. It was surprising what exhibits passed through even the most out-of-the-way places. They saw Picasso sketches and a lesser Caravaggio; she stood inside a Louise Bourgeois spider and found an entire collection of Chagalls in a tiny town the artist briefly lived in.

If you knew where to look, Benny had told her, you could always find something worth seeing. And Benny always knew where to look.

For the longest time, Noni had assumed she would be an artist because Benny assumed she would be an artist. And, she had to admit, she did have some talent. Perhaps even more than Benny did.

However, no matter what medium Antonia tried—watercolor, oils, sculpting, ceramics—it always felt like work. She always felt like she was struggling against something, pushing at a stone that she could never quite budge. Working with Jacob at the forge was the closest she had come to really liking the work she was doing, but even then it didn't feel like a calling or a passion. More like an interesting hobby.

It hadn't been until she had combined the forge with the ponies that something had clicked for her. That she knew she had finally found what was she was meant to do.

The only other time she'd felt that sensation was the first time she'd played a game of polo, smashing that ball across the pitch as her pony ran at full tilt under her.

Another calling—another passion—she had realized at once.

“Take a look around,” said Jacob. “I'm just going to change real quick.”

He turned up a wide staircase, and Noni watched as he climbed, objectively admiring his broad back and slim waist and the way his wheat-colored hair curled a little at the ends.

There was no doubt that he was a very handsome man, she reminded herself as he reached the top of the stairs and disappeared down the hallway.

She went into the kitchen to get a glass of water and wrinkled her nose when she saw all the high-tech gleaming stainless steel surfaces. The stove alone must have cost tens of thousands of dollars, she thought, running her hand over it. She much preferred Pilar's kitchen, with its warm wood counters, herringbone brick floors, and deep porcelain farmhouse sink.

Noni couldn't imagine anyone cooking in this kitchen, never mind actually sitting down to enjoy a meal.

She smiled as she recalled breakfast that morning, with everyone crowded around Pilar's big farm table.

Noni drank her water and then wandered back out into the great room, peering closely at a painting above the fireplace. “Oh my God. It's a Modigliani,” she breathed. “And a good one.”

Jacob came back downstairs and stood next to her. “Holy shit,” he said. He sounded awed. “Can you imagine? Actually owning one? You probably could, you know, after tomorrow.”

She turned to him, surprised. “You know about that?”

His shrugged. “Your mom mentioned it to me.” He grinned at her and raised his eyebrows. “Antonia Black, heiress. Very fancy.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “What do you say? Will you buy me a Modigliani or two?”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not,” she said, laughing in spite of herself.

They stood in front of the painting a moment longer, just taking it in, and Noni relaxed a little. This felt nice, she thought, admiring this beautiful thing together. She slipped her hand into Jacob's and squeezed.

He turned to her and smiled. “I want to show you everything he has. There's a crazy Vermeer in his bedroom and I swear to God, he keeps four Kandinskys in his home gym. But we're going to be late for our reservation if we don't leave now. I thought we could walk. It's just down the hill.”

The restaurant was packed when Enzo arrived and he was grateful that his teammates had come earlier and commandeered a table. The place was directly across the street from the beach, and most of the seating was outside, with small café tables lining the road and an open-air central courtyard inside, where there were several fire pits surrounded by low tables and lushly upholstered wicker couches and chairs.

As Raj had promised, the crowd was young. Young, beautiful, and scantily dressed, thought Enzo as he wound his way to the fireside space where David was waving him over.

“Hey, man!” yelled David over the throbbing music. “You made it!”

Enzo clasped hands with each of his teammates in turn.

David looked the most at home in the bar. He was a good-looking kid, and all his time working as a groom had given him a strong physique. He wore a white linen shirt, open halfway down his sculpted cocoa-colored chest, and loose white jeans. A style, Enzo smiled to think, copied from all of David's time working for the Del Campos. This was the uniform that Sebastian and Alejandro both tended to wear at their more casual functions.

Lachlan was a little more dressed down—in a red V-neck tee and faded jeans, his sandy hair carefully mussed, his sleeve of tattoos proudly displayed. And Raj was a little more dressed up, in a blue and white striped button-down, cut close enough to show off his formidable muscles. He also wore small gold hoops in his ears.

More than one young lady was looking their way. They were a fine-looking team.

“Here, mate!” said Lachlan, pushing a shot glass toward Enzo as he took his seat. “I saved you a shooter!” He frowned at it. “It's not on fire anymore, but I bet I could get it going again if you want.”

Enzo almost refused it, but then thought,
Why not? What the hell.

“No fire necessary,” he said, and gulped it down.

The alcohol burned a trail down his throat and warmed his stomach as the rest of his teammates cheered him on.

The waitress showed Noni and Jacob to an ocean-side table. The restaurant was packed with the rich, privileged, and beautiful. Even the busboys were model-level gorgeous.

Antonia looked around at all the young partiers throwing back drinks and preening for each other. For a moment, she was almost glad that she had grown up poor. Certainly, going without had been hard in its own way, but getting to know her brothers had disabused her of the notion that the rich were necessarily happier than anyone else, and living a life like this, hyperaware of how you looked, what you wore, who you were with, where you were seen…it just seemed exhausting. She silently swore to herself that no matter how much money she had, she would never get sucked into this trap.

“It's nice, right?” said Jacob, unfolding his napkin and putting it into his lap. “Fun?”

Noni looked at him and felt rebuked. What was her problem? She was such a snob. All these people were just trying to have a good time on a Friday night. She didn't have to break it down into class warfare.

Still, when she looked at the drink menu and realized that they were charging twenty dollars for a glass of what she knew to be not-so-great white wine, she couldn't help but inwardly roll her eyes.

“It's a million-dollar view,” she finally said. And it was. The sun was hanging low over the sound, with lazily drifting sailboats silhouetted against a dozen different shades of gold, pink, and lavender in the sky. The beach was a vast expanse of sand as fine and white as powdered sugar, punctuated by bright yellow sun umbrellas and tan, beautiful people strolling along in various states of undress.

She had to admit, once their overpriced cocktails and plates of
moules-frites
had arrived, it
was
fun in its own way. The food, the drinks, the beach, the view, the crowd, even the good-looking man smiling fondly at her across the table…who was she to complain?

She relaxed and happily bit into a French fry.

“Max said he had a really good time with you while I was gone,” said Jacob.

Noni smiled. “More like a good time with Pilar. I was working so much I hardly saw him, but she seemed more than happy to hang out with him. They really hit it off.”

Jacob raised his eyebrows. “Well, we're lucky that she could help out. I didn't realize you'd be working so much.”

“Neither did I,” said Noni, sipping her drink, “but when Enzo left, there was a lot to do.”

Jacob nodded and dragged a fry through the sauce on his plate. “I feel bad that I saddled you with a kid when you had so much going on.”

Noni shook her head. “No, no. I wanted to have him. I'm so glad I got the chance to see him again!”

He nodded again. “Why did Enzo quit, by the way? That seemed pretty sudden.”

Noni bit her lip, not sure whether she was ready to go there just yet. But, she thought, if she wanted a healthy relationship with Jacob, she had to be honest.

“Well, you know that Enzo and I were…involved, right? I mean, just for a little while.”

Jacob's blue eyes snapped a little. “It seemed that way to me, yes.”

“When things ended, it was…difficult. I think he just felt like it might be awkward for him to stay on as
piloto
for my family.”

Jacob cocked his head. “Do you really think of the Del Campos as your family, Noni? I mean, I don't remember you ever mentioning your brothers when I knew you.”

Antonia felt herself color. She reached for her drink. “I didn't…like to talk about them back then. We didn't have a relationship yet. But we do now.”

“And Pilar? Benny said that she's been nothing but awful to you.”

“Well, I mean”—she smiled to herself—“Pilar's not an easy person, but lately it's been…different.” She ran her finger along the edge of her plate. “It's funny, but I actually think having Max around has helped.”

He laid his hand over hers. “I'm glad for you if that's true, but I guess I just hoped that you and Max would have the chance to spend some real time together.”

She looked at his hand on hers and sighed. “Jacob, I want that, too. I can't tell you what it means to me to see him again. It's been…wonderful. He's an amazing kid, and I've missed him so, so much. There hasn't been a day since you left that I haven't thought of him. But…I have to be honest, I don't know if I can be the person you want me to be for him.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted.

“It's not that I don't want to. I do. I want it more than anything. It's just…” She felt her voice catch. “I don't know if I'm even capable of it. I don't know that I can be a mother. I mean, you told me yourself—I'm not built that way.”

He tightened his hand on hers and closed his eyes for a moment. “Antonia.” His voice was low. “There's something I have to tell you.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her.

“When Max and I left, I know I told you that it was your fault and that I didn't feel like he was safe with you. I know I blamed you for him getting sick. I know I did all that. But the truth is”—he looked away—“I was going to leave you anyway.”

She looked at him, confused. “What?”

“I'd met someone. Long before that night. I'd been seeing her for a while. So when he got sick, I mean, I really was scared and angry, of course. That wasn't an act. He almost died. But what happened that night—it could have happened to anyone, and I knew that. I knew you were just so exhausted. I was so scared to tell you I wanted to leave. You'd been so incredible, helping me through Astrid's death, taking care of Max. I felt like such an asshole. I didn't know how to be honest. So when all that went down, it just seemed like an opportunity, the easiest way, I guess, to avoid having to tell you about Cecelia. I thought maybe it would hurt you less if you didn't know about her.”

She tugged her hand out from under his. She felt like she couldn't breathe. “So you let me think that it was my fault…that I didn't deserve to be a mother to Max?”

“I know. It was the wrong thing to do. I realize that now. I was stupid and I was scared and I was fucked up. I mean, it had been such a terrible year with Astrid using again, and then when I lost her…I wasn't myself. And you were really young, Noni. You were great with Max, you were, but you were practically a kid. That scared me.”