Betrayal (16 page)

Chauvinist!

I forced the tips of my pressed lips to rise. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me?”

He released my hand after a condescending pat. “Certainly, young lady. It was nice to meet you.”

My skin crawled as I walked away.

Alton never did tell me what would play out, and I sure as hell didn’t buy his answer about why he was helping Bryce. I didn’t. It didn’t make sense. This entire scenario didn’t need to negatively affect Montague Corporation. That was Alton’s call, at least from the story he’d told me. He could have agreed to withdraw Montague’s offer to employ Bryce. Most large companies had ethics clauses. Montague Corporation could have easily cited that as a reason to withdraw their earlier offer.

“Alexandria.”

I turned toward the kind voice.

“I have to warn you, you’re going to miss it.”

My Montague mask morphed into a real smile as I looked at Miss Betty. “Stanford, you mean?”

“Yes,” she replied wistfully, “and the freedom.”

“Freedom?”

She took another drink from her glass. Small bubbles moved upward in her sparkling wine. From her tone and the way she swayed slightly side to side, I presumed it wasn’t her first glass. Not everyone could hold their liquor like my mother. It also seemed that my alma mater had brought back memories that she’d tucked away.

She squeezed my hand. “You still have three more years. Take it from me, life happens too fast. Marriage, children, shit.” Her eyes popped open, and she playfully covered her mouth. “I didn’t say that aloud, did I?”

I giggled and shook my head. “Say what, Miss Betty? I didn’t hear a thing.”

“You, young lady, will go far. And I’m not just saying that because of Stanford.” She held onto my arm and scanned the grand hall. “This is such a lovely home. I’ve had a wonderful time, but I think it’s time I get my driver, and we head home.”

“Thank you for coming.”

I helped her to the door and made sure that one of the staff alerted her driver. I’d known Miss Betty most of my life, yet for the first time, it was as if I’d seen the real woman behind the mask.

Smoke and mirrors.

Dog and pony shows.

Why would anyone choose to live in this world of delusion?

Hearing my name, I turned toward a group of people.
Shit!
It was Millie, Ian, Jess, Leslie, two men I didn’t recognize, and Bryce. I’d been wrong earlier.
Now,
the show was about to start. Why the hell did it need to be with Bryce and Millie?

“ALEX, CAN WE
talk?” Bryce asked with a grin. The small dimple on his chin revealed a glimpse of the boy who’d been my friend.

Most of the guests had left, Mother had retired to her suite, and Alton was in the den with some men whose names I couldn’t remember. The household staff as well as the caterers, were working tirelessly to clean away any evidence of the celebration. Soon Montague Manor would be exactly as it had been earlier today, last year, a hundred years ago.

I’d been ignoring Bryce for most of the party. Our story was that we’d spoken, not that we were close. Besides, standing by his side and talking with old academy friends was almost as appealing as a Brazilian wax. It only took me a single time to decide that wasn’t for me. I knew before I walked over to the group of vultures that I didn’t want to be among them.

He reached for my hand.

“We can talk,” I confirmed as I retrieved my hand. “Touching is prohibited.”

He nodded. “Some things never change.”

“Around here nothing changes.”

Warm air surrounded us as we walked out onto the back terrace. Stars dotted the night sky while the incessant hum of crickets replaced the clatter of dishes inside the house. Although I detested everything about Savannah and my childhood home, there was something peaceful about the leaden humidity and silence that came with the estate.

“Do you really plan on never returning?” Bryce asked. “I mean, I know you have memories. You never said exactly, but this is your home.” He spun around and looked up at the massive structure. “How could you not want to live here?”

I shrugged and brushed my hand along the rough stone banister. The large limestone steps descended to the lower lawns. Fireflies twinkled in the distance. When I was little I thought they were fairies, like Tinkerbell. I was convinced if I caught one, it would change into a fairy and grant me my wish. It was another childhood fantasy that didn’t come true.

The house was constructed on a hill, allowing it to oversee the vast land behind. Hundreds of years ago that land was filled with one-room houses, tobacco fields, stables, and barns. The old structures were gone, as if erasing that time in our family’s history was that easy. Now it was covered with the best that money could buy: a large pool, flower gardens, and better-constructed buildings. The biggest addition to the property was a lake.

Who can decide they want a lake and get a lake? A Montague can.

This time of year, the manmade creation would be nothing but a puddle in the Georgia clay if it weren’t for the pump that pulled water from the depths of the earth, filtering it through sand to keep the lake not only full, but fresh. It was still astonishing how well it worked, but near the turn of the twentieth century, when my great-great grandfather had it installed, it had been an amazing feat of engineering.

Nothing but the best at Montague Manor—on the surface at least.

I slipped off my shoes and stepped onto the perfectly manicured lawn. Even under the cover of night, Montague Manor was a beautiful prison. Trying to keep the shadows at bay, as Jane had said, I concentrated on fond memories. They were there. And as much as I hated to admit it, many of those from my childhood included Bryce.

“Do you remember swimming in the lake?” he asked.

I grinned. “Yes. Our mothers would get so mad. They were sure it wasn’t safe and wanted us in the pool instead.”

“Nessie,” we both said with a laugh.

“I think they were the ones who told us about her. You were never afraid of Nessie. I was,” Bryce admitted.

“You were? You never acted like it.”

“Because I’m a guy. Guys can’t show fear, and you were younger than me. I couldn’t let a little girl be braver than me.”

“I don’t know if it was so much being brave as it was defiant. And unbeknownst to my mother, Jane had explained the pump to me. So I knew the hum wasn’t really a monster.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? That would’ve saved me a lot of sleepless nights.”

I softly laughed. “Because you never told me you were afraid.”

Bryce stopped walking a few feet from the shoreline. “I can still hear it. Can you?”

Camouflaged behind the crickets and occasional croaks of a toad, was a faint hum vibrating through the ground more than the air. “I can.”

Bryce reached for my hands and as I tried to pull them away, he said, “Alex, give me a second, please.”

Swallowing, I nodded.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“I-I’m not…”

“You are. More than you know. It was bad—the police, the station, the holding cell. I can’t go back. I can’t. I’m telling you what I’ve never told anyone. I was scared, more scared than I was of Nessie.”

I clenched my teeth. “I’m sorry, but I’m not helping you or anyone else cover up a crime.”

“Then you’re going to make a lousy lawyer.”

I knew he was kidding, but I was tired of people telling me what to do with my future, what to become, and how well I’d do. I pulled my hands away. “I will make a great attorney, because I’ll stand up for what’s right.”

“There are two sides to every argument.”

“Why did you do it?”

“I didn’t.” He ran his hand through his blond waves. “We had sex. She wanted more than a few dates and sex. I didn’t. She had some grand illusion about marriage. When I told her we were done, she promised she would get back at me. She said I’d led her on.”

“Bryce, Alton said there were bruises.”

He shook his head. “She didn’t have bruises the last time I saw her. I swear.”

I paced a few steps and turned back toward him. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. You know me. I’m the guy who was afraid of Nessie. Please consider transferring to Savannah Law.”

“What?”

“New York is far away. Not as far as California, but still far. If you’d transfer to Savannah Law, we could…” His voice trailed away.

“We could what?” I asked, with more attitude than I intended.

“Just see where the future leads.”

The caterers were gone by the time we made our way back up to the manor and lights were off in many of the rooms. It wasn’t until after Bryce was gone and I headed up to my room that I heard the voices—his voice. The tenuous calm that had settled over me at the lake’s edge disappeared. I wrapped my arms around my midsection and tried to drown out his shouting and her tears.

As I quietly shut and locked my bedroom door I realized that I was a child again, and at Montague Manor that’s what we do, we pretend not to hear and not to see. We live in the illusion hidden within the smoke and mirrors.

OUR DATE AT
333 Pacific was everything Nox promised and more
…
down to the sea breeze. Our covert scandalous behaviors had me twisted tighter than I’d ever been. Everything was erotic: the scent of his cologne, the thundering rumble of his voice, and the confident, assured touch of his skin against mine. Though part of me knew what we were doing—what I was allowing Nox to do to me—went against everything Alex stood for, I was virtually on the edge of explosion. Sometime during the evening, the tightening inside of me moved from pleasure to pain. I needed release and knew my only source was the man beside me. However, instead of offering relief for the smoldering fire, Nox simply continued to fan the flames.

The menacing gleam in his eyes was the spark. The way the navy swirled in the paleness as he leaned close and whispered in my ear turned butterflies into bats. At first his directives were simple, almost mundane: take a sip of your drink, tilt your head to your right, spread your legs, wider. Then I realized his plan. He was testing me step by step, to see if I would play his game.

I did.

I wanted to.

By the time our main course arrived my thighs were slick with my dedication to Nox’s entertainment, yet he’d barely touched me. My stuttered breathing and noticeable arousal was mostly accomplished with merely his words and velvety tone. On the few occasions he’d ventured to ease his skilled fingers higher and lightly brushed my folds, I squirmed involuntarily toward his touch. Instead of rewarding my effort, he’d calmly rebuke me, reminding me that
he
was the one testing
my
limits. This was his night. My part was to follow his rules. Though I did everything but verbally beg for more, his teasing continued, never delving deeper or satisfying the part of me that longed for his attention.

After dinner he took my hand and led me out past the palm trees to the long Oceanside pier. Despite the beautiful atmosphere, my frustration had grown beyond want to need. I silently cursed myself for the last few wasted nights. I cursed him for what he was doing and what he could do. My urgency was palpable. I wanted—no needed—to hurry back to the resort so that he could explore my limits in private.

“Patience,” he murmured close to my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. As if he could read my thoughts, he added, “We’ll both get what we want. But before we do, I need to be sure you’re ready.”

Ready?

“I’m ready. I promise.”

His deep chuckle was quickly lost to the roar of the surf.

The water and sky were no longer blue and sparkling. Old-fashioned street lamps, every fifty or so feet, cast circles of light upon our path. The soft illumination gave the illusion that the boardwalk was suspended in space. With the cover of night, the sea had become a black tide, invisible but for the whitecaps and the gentle rocking of the pier. The sky shimmered with stars. We paused at a simple wooden bench just outside a circle of light, and Nox gestured for me to sit. My pulse quickened and mind spun when instead of sitting beside me, he knelt before me. Electricity ricocheted through me as he leaned down and kissed the inside of my knee.