Forbidden: A Stepbrother Secret Baby Romance (17 page)

I lean against the wall and wait for her to speak.

She finally does. "It’s just. My parents. They know, now. About me and Julie. They don't want me to be with her. But you and I? We can make something work. We can. We can have an open marriage and nobody has to know! You can be with who you want to be with and I can be with who I want to be with. We both have our own money this way, and it doesn't have to matter."

As her words sink in, I realize how terrible this all is. I take her hand. "Sam. We were terrible for each other. We were so young. So, so young. But we're not anymore. We can't do this. You deserve better. So does Julie."

Sam looks at me, her brown eyes brimming with tears. Then she smiles a little. It's like a small ray of sunshine. "You're right. I know you're right." She sniffles. "Fuck, I'm a mess. Here's your handkerchief, back. I still don't know what I'm going to do, though."

I pull her forward into a hug. "You'll figure it out, Sam. I'm here for you, okay? You're not going to be alone in this."

She nods slowly and pulls away. "I think I need to go. I can't see my parents while I’m like this."

I nod. I should have known that they would be here tonight. "Gregory and Sidney. Of course." This is all a setup. I'm guessing the four of them were hoping for a proposal tonight. I was thinking that this party seemed out of the clear blue sky. But I should know better. Everything is calculated when it comes to my father. Everything. "You need me to come with you?”

Sam shook her head. "Nah. I'm fine. I'll call Julie. She'll meet up with me."

I give her one last hug. "You call me if you need anything, okay? I'm there for you.” Sam nods her head. The sound of heavy feet echoes through the hallway. It's Lyle. Sam sees him and anger covers her face. "Go," I whisper to her. "I'll hold him off." Sam squeezes my arm and then flees.

"So I guess that's no, then?" Lyle asks me, walking closer.

I start walking away from him but he catches up. We're back out in the living room, which is rapidly emptying of people. I guess dinner is being served. "I'm not being forced into an arranged marriage. It's not happening. I won't stand for this. I can't do that to Sam, either."

Lyle nods. "Very well. You have until New Year's Day. Then the offer expires. Get married before then and you keep everything. No marriage? No inheritance."

He's backed me into a physical corner that seems almost too on-the-nose considering the situation. I look over his shoulder and see Tessa staring at me. My eyes communicate with her silently, and in seconds, she's next to my father.

Fuck, I love this woman.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

TESSA

Jillian and I are sitting in silence, her theory about Ryan’s birth father hanging in the air. “I’ve only ever had unprotected sex with Paul,” I say quietly.

She snorts as she laughs. “You sure about that? You were more hungover than I’d ever seen you the night you and Jax fucked each other’s brains out. Are you sure you used a condom every time?”

My feet dangle in the warm pool water, the full moon shining overhead and reflecting its twin in the water. I know that if I keep drinking from this glass, I'm going to have a hard time walking. I set it down, the glass still mostly full. I rub my eyes. “I don’t know, Jill. I don’t remember, honestly.”

I hear the sound of a door open behind me. The loud noises from the party, previously muted, sneak out into the night. Three clicks of high heels confirm it's my mother. "Tessa Anne," she hisses. "The way you snuck away from that conversation with Gregory was incredibly rude."

I sigh and drink heavily from my glass. "Not now, Mother," I groan.

"Not now? Yes now!" She bends down and snatches the whiskey out of my hand. "I’ve been trying to call Paul all night and he’s not answering. Why is that?"

"I’m not his keeper, Mother." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. The alcohol I managed to sneak before my mom stole my glass hits me. It gives me courage. "I am done being the intermediary between the Golden Child and his would-be mother-in-law."

Jillian, still tipsy, cheers and claps her hands. It wakes up the guy snoozing in the deck chair, and he drunkenly joins in. This unusual bit of support fills me with joy. I stand up and dust off my dress, bending down to pick up my heels. The visual change of bending over nearly topples me over into the pool. I'm on the tipsy side of buzzed.

"Tessa. What did you do?” My mother is seconds away from breathing fire at me.

I roll my eyes. "Why is it always my fault, Mother? Now I'm supposed to be at fault for my boyfriend cheating on me with another woman? Wonderful. What is it that I've done? Not put out enough? Not made dinner from scratch enough times?" I push past her into the living room doors, not bothering to put my shoes on my feet. She is close behind me. I know she wants this argument to stay outside, away from the guests; I'm not giving her the pleasure of privacy. I need witnesses.

"Should I have produced twins for him? Triplets? Ten kids? Made money AND took care of everything at home? Stripped naked every night to greet him at the door with a roast in the oven?" My voice is now loud enough that the people around us have gone silent. "Maybe I should have sucked his dick more?!"

The volume of the room drops precipitously. A glass shatters somewhere in the corner. I don't bother looking. My mother's face is a deep shade of eggplant. She looks like smoke is about to pour out of her ears. I swallow the rest of my whiskey and hand the empty glass to my mother. Harry Connick Jr. is singing about Santa Claus taking him for a ride in his sleigh. The jauntiness of the song is at direct, ironic odds with the tenor of the room around me.

Thankfully, a man's voice calls out at that moment: "Dinner is served, if everyone will make their way to the dining room!" The crowd disperses at the mention of food. I wander back over to the bar when, in the hallway off of the living room, I see the tall, gorgeous brunette Jax was kissing earlier looking upset. She storms past me, nearly knocking me over.

I totter slightly on my heels, trying to regain my composure. I gather myself and look over to see that Jax and Lyle are engaged in deep conversation, walking side-by-side. Jax is trying to get ahead of Lyle. My brain registers the promise that I made to him the day before; that I would save him from any conversation that his dad lured him into. I walk as quickly as I can to intercept them. It seems like Lyle is trying to box Jax in by the bay window.

He smiles with relief when he sees me. It feels good to be wanted.

"Jax! I..." I realize that I need a legitimate reason to get him out of his dad's grasp. Jax looks intensely relieved. I see the pure desperation in Jax's eyes and an idea flies into my head. "There's a guest looking to borrow one of the novels that I was reading the other day. Uh, the sequel to that same book. I was hoping you could help me find it. Hi, Lyle," I say grandly, reaching over to hug him instinctively.

Lyle looks startled by my interruption. I can tell that he is coming down off an angry outburst. There are thick beads of sweat threatening to run into droplets along his brow line. Damn, is it boiling in here. The rapid emigration of the guests has not brought down the temperature a single degree.

"Tessa," Lyle says, trying to recover some semblance of calm and kissing me on the cheek. "I believe dinner is being served, so you two better hurry."

"Save me some Hawaiian sweet rolls!" I say, laughing at my own ridiculous choice of parting words. There is no way my mother would allow packaged food to grace the dinner table in this house. Lyle looks confused, but I grab Jax's arm and push past Lyle, leaving him to ponder what on earth a Hawaiian sweet roll could possibly be.

I pull Jax into the east wing hallway. "You okay?" I ask him. He's wearing a navy blue suit; he’s lost his tie somewhere in the course of the evening. The top two buttons of his shirt are casually undone; one of his tattoos is peeking out of the starched fabric. He looks incredible.

Jax runs his hand through his hair. "Yeah, thanks. I owe you," he says.

I shake my head. "No, that was my payment for the clothes, remember?"

"No, seriously. I was expecting an intense conversation but that was something on another level, even for my dad."

"What was it about?" I ask him.

Jax stares at me. "It doesn't matter. It's ridiculous. We need to go eat or your mom will be livid." He looks back into the now-empty living room but makes no move towards it. I'm not exactly feeling like running in there myself; I have faith Jillian can survive on her own for a while.

"Yeah, I don't think that she will mind if I don't come to the table, actually."

"Why?" He furrows his brow in confusion.

"Didn't you hear me yelling? It kind of shut down the party."

Jax laughs darkly. "I was more than a little preoccupied with the ambush from my dad about my love life, to be honest. Wait - why were you yelling?"

"Your love life?" I ask, confused. I think of the brunette with a surge of jealousy.

"Come on, let's go hide in the library," he whispers as a drunken party guest appears out of the dark shadows and lumbers past us. I totter on my heels as I jump out of the way. Jax holds out his arm chivalrously and I take it, grateful for the support. He rustles in his pockets and pulls out the library key, fitting it easily into the lock and turning it.

The library is dark. I reach over to hit the touch pad on the wall to bring up the lights, but Jax shakes his head and lowers my hand. I feel a frisson go up my body at the touch of his fingertips. "Too bright; they'll see us through the windows across the way." I realize the same curtain is still open from the other day. I squint my eyes and sure enough, the brightly lit-up grand dining room is easily spotted.

My mother is at the head of the table; Lyle holds her hand on the tabletop. She is laughing but there’s no real warmth in it. I'm sure she's still fuming and humiliated by my outburst.

Jax puts his hand on my shoulder. "Come on," he whispers. He leads me over to a bookshelf that looks the same as the rest. He stares at it and runs his fingers down the wooden seam that separates the left bookshelf from the right. Then he stops and curls his fingers, flicking his index fingernail slightly. The bookshelf moves open, like a door on a hinge. I peer inside, but nothing greets me but velvety blackness. Jax motions me into the space before him. "Ladies first."

I step inside, the cool air enveloping my body completely. I shiver involuntarily. The bookshelf door clicks shut behind me. This is everything I've ever dreamed about when I was a child - a secret room hidden in a bookcase within a massive library.

Jax's warm body brushes past me, his stomach briefly against mine and his hands up behind my head. "Sorry, it's a little tight in here. Let me just find something behind you here." I try to keep my breathing in check, but feel my pulse quicken at him being so close to me. I close my eyes, which is pointless in the velvety dark and reach my hands out to touch his jacket.

Before my fingers can find the fabric, I hear the sound of a match striking against a box. A small flame appears in Jax's fingertips. A light whiff of sulphur permeates the space. Jax's other hand moves past my face. He is holding a thick, white candle encrusted with dripping wax.

The warm glow of the candlelight makes Jax's cheekbones even more prominent. "Okay," he says, a smile crossing his lips, "I see you're pretty excited about this room?"

I realize that I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet from excitement. I laugh. "You could say that, yeah."

Jax grabs my hand and leads me down the low-ceilinged corridor. He has to bend nearly in half to fit his body in the tunnel. The palm of his hand is rough against mine. I try to focus on the space around me but can only think of Jax touching me. The walls are bare drywall. They have not been taped and mudded, and I can still see the x-headed screws. Cobwebs hang from the corners of the ceiling. It's weird to see dust in this house. I realize that the staff must not know about this room.

"Why is this here?" I ask in a low voice. Despite the cobwebs, the space feels somehow sacred and beckons me to whisper in reverence.

"My mom had it put in secretly. My dad doesn't even know about it. I spent my whole childhood thinking that her original plan was for it to be her own hiding place. But then she told me before she died that she'd built it for me. Or, rather, for the idea of me. They weren't sure they were going to be able to have children. But she always wished for it."

The hallway ends in a small wooden door. There is a tinier door embedded into the wall next to it complete with a miniature door handle. Inside is a brass skeleton key. He hands it to me. "You want the honors?"

I grasp the key; it has a pleasant weight to it. I take a deep breath and slide my body past Jax's, inserting the key into the lock and turning it. I twist the handle and the door falls open. "Give me the candle," I instruct.

"As you wish," Jax replies.

I take the candle carefully and step into the room. I hear Jax's hand rustle behind me and suddenly the room is flooded with light. My breath catches in my chest. The room isn't large: maybe fifteen feet long but only five feet wide. Squashy, square floor cushions are piled on the floor next to beanbag chairs upholstered in a nautical-looking blue and white stripe. Bookcases line the walls. They are stuffed with bright blue Hardy Boys titles and Goosebumps books. I even spot the tell-tale bright yellow spines of Nancy Drew books. I slip The Twisted Staircase off the shelf and looked at Jax knowingly.

He shrugs. "Who says Nancy Drew is only for girls? I had a crush on her." Jax walks over to a cabinet that sits underneath a stained-glass circular window. Within the bookcases sit four porthole-looking glass circles. I stand up on my tiptoes and look through them. All I can see is amber light.

"They're fake," Jax explains at my unasked question. "This room is squarely within the center of the house. No outside windows. Otherwise my father would have known."

"I kind of feel like I'm on a ship right now," I admit to him.