The plane touched down at Harry Reid International Airport with a jolt that rattled Elodie's teeth. She had spent the entire five-hour flight staring out the window, watching the darkness of the country scroll by, waiting for the police to be waiting at the gate.
They were not.
She stepped into the jet bridge. The air was different here. Even through the climate control, she could feel the dryness of the desert. It sucked the moisture right out of her skin.
She navigated the terminal, her head down. The noise was an assault. Slot machines chimed and rang in every corner. Tourists in flip-flops dragged massive suitcases. It was chaotic, tacky, and loud. It was perfect. No one looked twice at a girl in a hoodie here.
She walked to the passenger pickup zone. The heat outside was still oppressive, even at night. It wrapped around her like a heavy blanket.
A vintage red convertible swerved to the curb, blasting Def Leppard.
Elodie blinked. Aunt Inez.
Inez Franco was wearing oversized sunglasses, despite the fact that it was midnight. She waved a manicured hand over the windshield.
Get in, fugitive princess! Inez shouted over the music.
Elodie threw her bag into the back seat and jumped in. The leather was hot against her legs.
Inez hit the gas before Elodie had even buckled her seatbelt. The car lurched forward, merging aggressively into the airport traffic.
You look like hell, Inez said cheerfully. She turned down the music. Does Hazen know you are here?
Elodie shook her head. No. I just needed a break.
Inez scoffed. She tapped the steering wheel with her rings.
You do not run from a billion-dollar merger because you need a break, honey. You run because you are suffocating.
Elodie looked out the window. The Las Vegas Strip was a ribbon of fire in the distance. The Luxor beam cut a hole in the sky.
They passed a massive digital billboard. Elodie's breath caught in her throat.
It was Alden.
His face was three stories high, advertising a keynote speech for the summit. Even in pixels, his eyes seemed to see right through her.
Inez caught Elodie staring in the rearview mirror.
He is in town, you know, Inez said. Her voice lost its joking edge.
Elodie stiffened. I do not care.
Inez hummed. A sound that meant she knew exactly how much Elodie was lying.
He is just Kade's cousin, Elodie said, forcing her voice to be flat.
Right. And I am just a soccer mom, Inez said dryly.
They pulled into a gated community twenty minutes later. Inez's villa was a sprawling stucco beast that looked like it had been decorated by a colorblind artist. The garage door opened to reveal a chaotic mess of canvases and paint fumes.
As Elodie climbed out, tires screeched behind them.
A neon-green sports car whipped into the driveway, missing Inez's bumper by inches.
The driver door flew open. A girl in a dress that was little more than a suggestion of fabric stepped out. She wore combat boots and had hair that looked like she had just rolled out of bed in the most fashionable way possible.
Sofia Franco. Elodie's cousin.
Elodie! Sofia screamed. She tackled Elodie in a hug that knocked the wind out of her.
Sofia smelled of expensive tequila and smoke. She pulled back, gripping Elodie's shoulders.
Did you bring the good purses? Sofia asked, her eyes wide. The Birkins? Tell me you brought the Birkins.
Inez rolled her eyes. Leave her alone, Sofia. She is tired.
Sofia leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
Did you run away from the wedding?
Elodie froze. Sofia was wild, but she was not stupid.
Elodie gave a microscopic nod.
Sofia grinned. It was a wolfish, delighted smile.
Finally, Sofia said. Let us get drunk.
