Shit! I can’t let Bryce Spencer into Nox’s suite.
MOTHER SQUEEZED MY hand, her usual Montague mask gone as her smile shone my direction. So much for reverse psychology. It was too late. She wouldn’t be able to influence Father. His decision was set.
“Adelaide,” Alton said with a grand gesture as he stepped forward and placed a warm kiss to my cheek.
I tried to remember Dr. Sams’ therapy. I tried to take in this moment, not only with my eyes, but with all of my senses. Inhaling, I decided my future husband carried the aroma of expensive tobacco and whiskey. I recognized the whiskey. It was from my father’s private collection. No doubt while my mother calmed my nerves with Montague Manor private reserve wine, Charles and Alton were crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s of their agreement while the whiskey flowed.
I smiled, feigning delight in what everyone in the room knew to be a business deal.
My senses.
Dr. Sams’ voice played on a track only I could hear. “Don’t forget about sight. It’s second most important to smell. Our olfactory senses trigger the deepest memories, yet sight creates a picture. Look at your lover, inch by inch. Appreciate the beauty of the human body.”
Though I doubted he’d undergone the same therapy, it was what Alton had done when I entered the room, scanning me from head to toe. I returned the favor, beginning with his blonde hair. It was short, but not too short, parted on the side and combed back to perfection. His gray eyes reminded me of steel, glittering with small sparkles of blue and green. He was an attractive man with a confident smile. The paleness of his complexion lent itself to the rouge of blush as blood gathered in his cheeks. He was taller than Russell with a wider build.
At forty-three, he still looked quite good. I suddenly wondered why he’d never married. After all, he was successful in his own right. Not only a trusted vice president at Montague Corporation but also the only son of William Fitzgerald, real estate tycoon from Atlanta, who made his fortune in the 1960’s. His only sister, Gwendolyn, was married to Preston Richardson. They had one son, Patrick.
I listened halfheartedly as everyone spoke. My mind was a symphony of thoughts: outside words, Alton’s résumé, and Dr. Sams’ homework all swirled together in an unfamiliar melody.
“While the engagement is slightly unorthodox, rest assured that I’m honored you want to be my wife.” Alton’s voice was deep and booming, much like my father’s. Only the tenor was different, giving the song a new pitch.
“Laide?” Charles asked, bringing my eyes to his. It was the conditioned response I never questioned.
“Yes, Father?”
“Your fiancé is speaking to you.” His lips smiled, but his blue eyes, the same color as mine, sent a warning. I was zoning out, lost in my senses. My attention was needed in the present.
Lifting my chin to the man by my side, I inhaled again. The Montagues made their name and fortune from the tobacco fields that still dotted our estate. It seemed only fitting that my husband carried the aroma. His, however, was spicy, aged, and refined. I thought of how happy that must make Charles and smiled. “Alton, I’m overwhelmed. This is… will be…” I swallowed. “…I’m happy to be your wife.”
He reached for my hand.
Warm. Clammy.
No, Dr. Sams said to only think positive thoughts. Warm and tender. Yes, tender. Alton Fitzgerald was tender. That’s what I told myself.
“I believe we should be upfront with my daughter, Alton.”
“Yes, sir.”
Father continued, “As Alton mentioned, this is unorthodox, but I believe it’s in the best interest of everyone. The decision has already been made. You know that, don’t you, Adelaide?”
With Alton still holding my hand, I decided it was comforting to have someone beside me as Charles began his speech. Looking to where our hands touched, I smiled. Turning back to my father, I replied, “Yes, I know. What’s next?”
Yes, my fight was gone. I would be the perfect daughter and wife.
“You two will be seen more and more together. In the spring, you’ll elope.”
“Elope?” I asked.
“My dear,” Mother chimed in. “We did the big wedding. Now it’s more important to make it legal.”
“I have not,” Alton interjected.
I turned his direction, wide-eyed. “You’ve not what?”
“I’ve not had a wedding. I told your father I thought eloping was better than a courthouse wedding. It would give us a real wedding, something special, without the large fuss.”
Slowly my head moved up and down. I liked that. Did that mean that Alton actually negotiated this with my father? He didn’t accept everything on Charles’s terms and yet my father agreed to Alton? I was curious. “What else was negotiated?” I asked.
“Adelaide,” Alton said. “I’m afraid that term sounds too much like business legalities. I’d prefer you think of this as more personal, without deals and agreements.”
There was a timbre to his speech, a rhythm that steadied me.
“Thank you, Alton. I appreciate that. However, no matter what my father’s told you, I’m capable of understanding the part I play in the negotiations that occurred. I’ll do everything in my power to make you a good wife. I’ll also agree to everything, but I want to know… I need to know what has been negotiated.”
He looked to my father. I followed back and forth as they wordlessly debated between themselves.
Finally, my father cleared his throat. “As I said, you will elope. There will be a prenuptial agreement.”
I nodded, happy that my father thought to look out for my best interests.
He went on, “I won’t bore you with the specifics, only the highlights. In the event of the death of either of you or divorce, all Montague holdings will revert to Alexandria.”
“Wait! What? Either of us?”
“Yes,” Charles said. “There’s more.”
I retrieved my hand and looked at Alton. “You agreed to this?”
“I did. We’re both healthy, and I’ve waited until now to marry. I have no intention of divorce. That clause is a non-issue.”
“But eventually… we won’t live forever.”
“Alexandria will be admonished to care for the remaining one of you,” Charles added.
“By agreeing to this marriage, Alton accepts the fact that he’ll never produce an heir of his own. He’s aware of your inability to conceive.”
I hated how clinical he made it sound. No wonder I had issues with sex. Besides, the man’s forty-three years old. If he were to have children, he should have done it by now.
“Laide, what you are about to hear may not be repeated,” my father warned. “Alton and I discussed this at some length, and I’ve decided that for it to work, you must be aware of the stakes.”
“What?”
“Do you agree?”
Though my pulse increased, I nodded.
“As you mentioned, you and Alton won’t live forever, as obviously, neither will your mother and I. Contingent upon Alton Fitzgerald agreeing to this marriage is the guarantee that his progeny will inherit the Montague name and status and all that comes with it.”
I looked from person to person, unsure what I was missing. “Didn’t you just say that you agreed to no more children?”
“We aren’t discussing more children,” Alton corrected.
I searched for answers. “Patrick? Your nephew?”
“No!” Alton said with a laugh. “As I’m marrying you to obtain Montague rights, I want to guarantee that my son has the same opportunity.”
“Y-Your son?”
“Not opportunity,” Charles corrected. “As this agreement with you is set, so is Alexandria’s.”
I stood and paced back and forth. “She’s four years old. I’ve agreed to everything you’ve said. I understand it’s my duty. But she’s a… baby.”
“She’s a Montague. She’s the continuation of the name. It’s her duty as well as it is yours,” C
harles said.
“Son?” I turned to Alton. “Whom is Alexandria supposed to marry?”
Charles nodded at Alton, who returned the favor. Olivia stood and walked to the door. Everyone and everything happened in slow motion. I watched, detached, as if they all knew the stage cues and I was the only one without a script. So many emotions, so many lies. I wanted to remember Dr. Sams’ instructions, coping mechanisms he called it. But in the time it took for my mother to open the door, my world shattered.
My best friend entered.
“Suzy?” I asked. “Why are you here?”
“Olivia and I will be outside.” My father wasn’t asking, and within seconds I was alone with my best friend and my fiancé.
Suzy’s eyes were uncharacteristically red and puffy. “God, I hate you right now,” she said as she hugged me. “But I’ll always love you.”
I couldn’t comprehend. “Why are you crying?”
“We make sacrifices for our children. Right?”
“I guess,” I replied. My eyes widened as I searched Alton and Suzy for answers. Slowly some surfaced, but they didn’t make sense.
She reached for my hands and held them tightly in hers. “Bryce is my angel, my pride and joy. I suffered through the embarrassment of divorce and held my head high so he’d never be ashamed. Marcel was the loser, the one who abandoned us. He wanted a paternity test. I couldn’t allow that. If I would have, Bryce would have known the truth. The whole world would have known. They never can. He never can.”
Where the hell is that girl with my wine? I need the whole damn bottle!
My arms flung up and down as I walked in circles and wedged the pieces of this new puzzle into place. Bryce… paternity test… blood thundered through my veins, the echo reverberating in my ears. The wine I’d drank sloshed about my stomach as my understanding grew.
“Say it. Say it!” My volume increased. I was like a caged lion, a wild beast consigned to a box on display. It was wrong. The lion was a king and deserved to be on the plains of Africa; instead, he was trapped as entertainment and amusement. Some may even argue his captivity served the purpose of education, giving children the opportunity to learn about animals not indigenous to their world. Someone needed to explain that to the king of the jungle. To him it was injustice. I felt the same way. At that moment, I was the lioness, also confined to a cage, on display, asked—no told—what to say and what to do.
Suzy sniffled softly as Alton’s neck straightened and chest grew.
“Edward Bryce Spencer is my son.” His tone bubbled over with pride, completely devoid of remorse.
I looked into Suzy’s eyes. “You never, ever said a thing to me. I’m your best friend and you never told me that you and…” I turned toward the man who’d slept with my best friend, who’d ruined her marriage. “…how didn’t I know?”
“Laide, you knew Marcel and I weren’t happy.”
“Then why? After you and Marcel divorced, why didn’t the two of you…?”
They exchanged a look, one only shared by intimate familiarity. It made my stomach retch.
“Oh my God.” I took a step backward. “You two did. You have. Oh God… you are…” My voice trailed away.
Suzy’s head moved vigorously from side to side. “No, Laide, we aren’t.” She took a deep breath. “We were. We were about to make it public when Russell…”
My temples throbbed. Where the fuck is my wine?
“As soon as you told me what your father said, about remarrying, I thought of Bryce.”
My knees gave out as I fell back to one of the chairs. “You thought of Bryce? My husband was dead. I was told I had to remarry…” I looked at her in disbelief. “…and you thought of your bastard son?”
Crimson seeped from Alton’s collar, filling his neck and cheeks. In my altered state of understanding, I had images of cartoons I’d seen as a child. Ones with a funny little bald-headed man wearing hunting gear. When he was mad, the redness rose, much like a thermometer, until the top of his head blew. That was what I saw as I looked toward the man I was about to marry.
“Yes and no,” Suzy said with authority. “I thought of Bryce. I always think of Bryce. However, he’s not a bastard. Officially, he’s the son of Marcel Spencer. And,” she added with an air of confidence, “he will marry Alexandria Montague. He will hold claim to all of this.” She motioned about with her arms as she turned a small circle. “Just as Alton will.”
“You’re what?” I asked in disbelief. “A damn martyr?”
Suzy held her chin high. “Yes. And I don’t regret a thing. Marcel and I tried for years for a child. He blamed me, though he’d never go to the doctor to learn differently. I figured he was right; I was broken. Then after Alton and I… after we…” She at least had the decency to look down. “I became pregnant. It wasn’t like Marcel and I weren’t still… I was his wife. I told him Bryce was his. I believe Marcel wanted to believe. But with time, he couldn’t.”
“Are you two?” I moved my eyes back and forth. “…still?”
Alton knelt beside my chair. “No. You two are friends. I wouldn’t do that. In a few months we’ll be married. Suzy and I are done.”
A tear descended my best friend’s cheek.
“This is so sordid!” And then a new thought occurred to me. “My parents know?”
Suzy nodded.
“Why? Why did my father agree to this?”
“Because I’m not Russell. I have a vested interest in making this marriage work, as much as you do. I want this.” He looked around the office and then peered at me with a raised brow. “Adelaide, I want you. I want Montague Corporation, but mostly I want to guarantee my son’s future success. You’ll never be able to give me a child. I can live with that, but I want to know that my son will have the best. This marriage will accomplish that.”
“But Alexandria…?”
“Is a child,” Suzy answered. “She and Bryce are best friends. Who better to marry than your best friend?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I wasn’t about to marry my best friend. I was about to marry my best friend’s lover, and my parents were okay with it. Shaking my head, I looked at Alton. “How did you and Father negotiate this? When are the children supposed to wed?” My indignation grew. “When they’re eighteen? How about as soon as Alexandria has her period? Then she could reproduce.”
“Laide,” Suzy cooed, “don’t be ridiculous.”
I stood again and walked toward the windows. The storm had calmed, leaving the darkness of night looming over the Montague estate. In the reflection of the panes, I saw my likeness. But it wasn’t me. My eyes were too narrow with dark circles below each one.
Alton’s voice brought me back into the room. “After Bryce completes graduate school. We built in eighteen months. Hopefully, they’ll be ready to marry sooner. If things go as they are now, it’ll be organic.”
I spun toward them. “What if it doesn’t?”
“They don’t have a choice,” Alton said. “It’s my hard limit for this marriage.”
I felt it in my hands first, the trembling. His hard limit… to marry me.
“Is it that unappealing?” I asked louder than I intended.
My back straightened as Alton came closer. “No.” His deep tone had softened as his gray eyes shone with flecks of blue and green. “Marrying you is very appealing. Marrying into your family is appealing, running Montague Corporation is appealing. Guaranteeing that Bryce will have it all after we’re gone is the icing on the cake.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Suzy quickly turn away.
“Laide,” he said with a smile. “I like that name. We’ll have many years together. This will be good. As parents we want what’s best for our children. This agreement assures all of us of that outcome.”
“But what if they don’t? What if they fall in love with someone else?”
He shook his head. “Love has nothing to do with it. This is business. We can grow to
love one another. They have the advantage of starting out as childhood friends. According to the agreement, if either marries someone else, refuses to marry by the defined time limit, or marry and divorce, Montague Corporation and all assets of Montague, including Montague Manor will be sold. The proceeds will be transferred to Fitzgerald Investments. Montague will cease to exist.”
“No…” I shook my head. “My father would never agree to that.”
Alton caressed my cheek. “He already has. He did because he has faith in us.” He motioned to all three of us. “Faith that we’ll keep Montague intact. Faith that Alexandria and Bryce will have a long, happy marriage and provide us with a home full of grandchildren.”
My daughter was four years old and he’s talking about grandchildren.
I BRACED MYSELF, steeling my shoulders as I prepared to open the door. With my hand near the knob, I heard voices. The wooden barrier did little to muffle their words as the small peephole became my only view of the scene on the other side.
“May I help you?” Deloris’s voice was sharp yet professional.
“No,” Bryce dismissed her as he turned back, rapping his knuckles again against the solid door.
“Son.” Her demeaning title made me smile. “You’re knocking on my door. May I help you?”
Bryce took a step back, the crimson on his cheeks simmering in his new state of confusion. “Your door? I thought this was…” He stood straighter. “Is Alexandria Collins staying with you?”
“I’m not sure why who’s staying with me is any of your concern. You are…?”
“I-I am Edward Spencer, and I’m looking for my fiancée.”
His word made my stomach churn. It took every bit of self-control not to open the door and correct him.
“I assure you I don’t know who you mean. If you’ll excuse me, I need to enter my room.”
“You do know who I mean. I saw you. You were at her roommate’s hospital room this morning. You know Alexandria.”
Deloris was at Chelsea’s room? Why? When? Why was Bryce there?
“Son, I’ll gladly call security if you don’t step aside.”