The Dare Collection October 2018. Nicola Marsh
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split in two. On one side sat a very large, gorgeously muscled man bathed in sunlight with palm trees and blue water behind him. His eyebrows were arched and jet black, a fascinating contrast to his brown skin and the smirk on his surprisingly lush mouth. His black hair fell around his face, a little too long to Margot’s way of thinking. A little too messy.
He wasn’t beautiful, but he was purely carnal. Margot was surprised he didn’t sizzle.
She was surprised she didn’t, simply from looking at him.
The man on the other side of the screen was blond, though a darker, dirtier blond than Thor. He was also built out of lean, hard muscles and razor-sharp lines, like those fascinating cheekbones of his. And maybe it was his similarities to Thor that clued her in: his blue eyes, though a darker, moodier blue than Thor’s; a tilt to his head that suggested he was up to no particular good; the kind of mouth that made Margot’s mind seem to go blank for a whole beat or two.
She understood that these must be Thor’s half brothers. Thor’s famous half brothers, made objects of international interest the moment their existence had been confirmed at the reading of Daniel St. George’s will six months ago.
Her heart thudded a little too hard for her peace of mind, but it wasn’t because Thor’s half brothers were so ridiculously attractive. It was because Thor himself looked so...stern and disapproving as he glared at his screen.
“I thought aloha was a Hawaiian thing,” the blond with the drawl said.
He was Charlie Teller, if Margot remembered her research into Thor correctly. The article she’d read about Daniel St. George’s long-lost sons had made vague references to Charlie’s brushes with the law and potentially dangerous associates. He didn’t look dangerous on screen—or he didn’t only look dangerous. He was grinning broadly, tipped back in a chair in a room somewhere. With terra-cotta walls that struck Margot as...insistent, somehow.
“It is a Hawaiian thing. I’m a Hawaiian thing.”
That third voice was Jason Kaoki. She’d read about him, too. A local Pacific Island boy turned good, the fawning article had called him. He had gone off to college on the mainland on a full football scholarship and had even played a few years pro before sustaining the kind of injuries that had forced him into early retirement. He was rumored to be a major, if anonymous, philanthropist in Hawaii and other Pacific Islands. And then had come the will.
“You’re not actually in Hawaii, though, are you?” Charlie asked. “I thought you were on some random ass island out there in the middle somewhere.”
“Are you trying to throw down with me about some Pacific Island shit, you haole fuck?” Jason demanded, then belted out a big, broad laugh that seemed to warm up even this cavernous room where Margot lay, far across the planet from his light and sea and palm trees, surrounded by snow and ice.
And a chilly Thor besides.
“As delightful as this questionable camaraderie is,” Thor interjected coolly then, as if he could hear Margot’s thoughts, “I believe this is meant to be a business call, is it not?”
“I’d tell you to chill out, brother,” Charlie said, and Margot wondered if she was the only one who heard the sardonic kick in the way he used that word. Brother. “But I’m not sure that Viking ass could get any colder.”
Jason laughed again and it had the same effect as before. Bright and loud, as if he didn’t have a care in the world and didn’t care what the idiots on his screen were talking about.
Though Margot imagined it would be a very foolish person indeed who failed to note the clever gleam in his dark gaze.
“I find Viking commentary entertaining,” Thor said. “I do. But these conversations are supposed to be about money.”
“I like money,” Jason said, and he still sounded as merry. As lazy. “But how much can any one man have?”
“Meaning you’re still holding out,” Charlie replied, as if that was a code. “You might as well surrender, brother. The long arm of Daniel St. George reaches from beyond the grave whether you want it to or not. You can tell yourself whatever lies you want, but believe me, you’re going to end up building that hotel.”
Jason smiled, big and broad, but Margot was caught on the shrewd look in his gaze.
“You had a lot of good reasons to leave the mainland. I’m assuming Italy was one of those reasons. Maybe your life choices on the mainland were another reason.” Jason shrugged as if it was no matter to him. As if he couldn’t see the way Charlie’s smile became indefinably more dangerous. “But I like my island the way it is.”
“Jason is still holding off on development plans. How is the Amalfi Coast treating you?” Thor asked Charlie with no particular inflection in his cool voice.
“Italian, Thor. It seems really fucking Italian.”
There was more laughter, though somehow, it didn’t surprise Margot that Thor didn’t join in.
“Everything continues apace here in Iceland,” Thor told them. “Business is booming.”
“Sex always sells,” Charlie said with a shrug. “And water is wet, the sun comes up in the east and a douchebag is what a douchebag does.”
“Is that life advice?” Jason asked.
“I’m a life coach in my spare time,” Charlie drawled.
“We could all say a great many things about the man, certainly,” Thor said, an edge in his voice that made goose bumps prickle along Margot’s arms—and also cut through his half brothers’ laughter. “But our father always had excellent taste in hotels.”
“Don’t call that asshole our father,” Charlie muttered. “Jesus.”
“He’s nothing to me but one more haole,” Jason said, which Margot interpreted as his agreement.
“I’m thrilled we agree on something,” Thor said. “I’ll send the usual email outlining our continued progress in our respective areas. Duty calls, gentlemen. Next week?”
“Next week,” Charlie said with that same smile that the longer Margot looked at it, the less she thought was all that nice. “Every fucking week.”
“Aloha, bitches,” Jason said merrily.
And then there was silence when the screen went dark.
Margot stayed where she was. She was frowning toward the windows closest to her, shifting pieces around in her head, and it took her a moment to notice when Thor came to stand behind the couch. Next to her, but separated by the back of the couch.
And yet even though he had moved closer, it was as if he was on the other end of one of those video cameras. He looked as remote as if he’d carved himself from ice.
He made her feel shivery inside in a way that had nothing to do with sex, but felt a lot more as if she might tip over into tears at any moment. That closed-down look on his face made her hurt.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.
He looked startled, but only for a moment. Then it was straight back to ice and stone, shuttered and forbidding.
“It is a stipulation of the contracts we signed to take over the hotels our father left us that we hold these pointless conversations.” He didn’t sound like the man who had spent a long night weaving spells around Margot with his words alone. He sounded almost stilted. The way he had while he’d talked on his call. “Weekly.”
“Does it stipulate that you have to be best friends on all those calls?” Margot pushed herself up, until she could cross her legs beneath her and sit up straight. “Either way, they didn’t sound particularly awful.”
“They are not awful. They are perfectly fine, I suppose, for full-grown men I am apparently related to and must now interact with as if we have some kind of