Deception

  “Old man Montague wants to be sure the new husband is the man to keep Montague going. He wants to know without a doubt that when he passes to the afterworld, Alton Fitzgerald will look after the Montague name and legacy.”

  “And this can’t be done with an established company?”

  “Not if it’s to be kept under wraps. He doesn’t want anyone at Montague to be the wiser. No one will know but the old man.”

  I’d grown cold over the years, but I wasn’t dead, not yet. Murder would have been a quicker favor. Nevertheless, I was relieved that it hadn’t been the request that he’d made. Setting up a front for some cameras and bugs could be done with a lighter conscience—assuming I still had one.

  “Give me a month or two,” I said. “It takes time to get the permits and set up the real estate.”

  “No more than two.”

  Vincent downed the rest of his drink and slapped the glass on the table. “Tell my cousin I said hello.”

  “I will.” If she’s talking to me.

  “One more thing, how’s Lennox doing?”

  My chest tightened. Vincent had been the one I’d specifically asked to keep Lennox out of the family business. “Busy. He’s in school, playing all kinds of sports. You know Angelina, she wants him involved in everything.”

  “Everything except the family business?”

  “He’s only fifteen.”

  “Do you have any idea what I knew at fifteen?” Vincent asked.

  “Two months,” I promised, avoiding the subject. “I’ll have the security company up and running in two months.”

  Vincent patted my shoulder. “Luca wants to get the cousins together this summer. New boat.”

  “Give Angelina a call. She’s in charge of our social calendar.”

  “Until next time.”

  “Next time,” I repeated, as I stayed seated and watched him and Jimmy turn their backs my direction and walk casually toward the exit.

  The bell on the door jingled.

  WAS THAT A DREAM?

  As wake and sleep intermingled and the morning sun eased through the blinds, the question floated through my mind.

  Stretching my arms and legs across the mattress, the soft sheets caressed my bare skin as the newly familiar, wonderful ache of contentment settled into my core. Despite my hand only finding an empty bed, I knew the answer to my question: it’d been real.

  A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as my fingertips skimmed from my new necklace down to my bare breasts, running circles around my overly sensitive nipples. With a satisfied moan, my hands moved farther down my naked body. When I’d gone to sleep, I’d been wearing pajamas.

  Now, I wasn’t.

  My smile blossomed fuller as I turned my head to inhale the masculine, woodsy scent of Nox’s cologne that lingered upon the cool pillow beside me. I’d heard that smell was the strongest of our senses when it came to memories and arousal. With my eyes closed, the unique fragrance transported me to the presidential suite in Del Mar and the first time I’d smelled the remarkable scent. I warmed at the recollection of Nox’s jacket as he’d placed it upon my shoulders.

  It wasn’t a dream.

  Nox had been here beside me, with me, and inside of me.

  Despite the multiple glasses of wine I’d consumed last night, I’d had trouble falling asleep, distraught and confused over Chelsea. I still didn’t understand why she’d been apologizing, why she wouldn’t talk, or why I couldn’t reach her after her call. After tossing and turning, I’d decided to take the sleeping pill Patrick had offered.

  Within minutes, my eyelids grew heavy, and a restless sleep ensued until at some time during the night, a strong arm pulled me against a solid chest. Wrapped in Nox’s warm embrace, my world righted. I recalled turning in his arms and facing him, touching his handsome face. In the darkness, his features were hidden, yet under the tips of my fingers I saw his prominent cheekbones, scruffy cheeks, and chiseled jaw. I didn’t need to see the light blue of his eyes to convince myself that Nox was real. His presence filled not only the bedroom and bed, but also my soul.

  With him beside me, I’d drifted into a deeper slumber. Nox’s presence hadn’t taken away my concern over my best friend, but his presence alone had lessened my burden, allowing me to share my concerns and sleep soundly.

  Now, as I started to shift the blankets, I recalled that we’d not only slept, but early this morning as Nox woke, we’d done rather more than that.

  Still groggy, I’d awakened to my favorite alarm—the pleasurable probing of Nox’s morning erection slowly grinding against the small of my back. As his large fingers splayed over my tummy, pulling me closer and moving downward, my core clenched and more than my consciousness awakened. So had my wanton desires.

  In those early hours, I became lost in the sensation that was Nox. My eyes barely fluttered open as my pajamas disappeared, and he stretched and filled me in the most delicious way. As he moved, my back arched in pleasure and his lips found mine. Each breath in and out—warm and heady as our chests heaved skin against skin—gave the other person the air essential for life. It was as if the oxygen and carbon dioxide could only be found in the other. Without our exchange of breaths, I would have ceased to exist. For a time, the world beyond our bubble was forgotten. My every thought was consumed with the man above me, holding me, dominating my world, and making love to me.

  His presence satisfied me while his words offered comfort. Declarations of his love and professions of my worth filled a void that my friend’s odd behavior had created.

  After Nox started my morning with a series of satisfying detonations, he kissed me goodbye and apologized for leaving so early. The last thing he’d said before I drifted back to sleep was that he’d see me tonight at our apartment.

  As I recalled the conversation—or his statement and my sleepy acceptance—his parting words may have been more of a dictate, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be back in our space. I hadn’t been there since I’d walked out on him the night I’d received that letter.

  Though that had only been three days ago, with all that had happened, it seemed like a lifetime.

  I still didn’t know exactly what had happened to Jocelyn, but I knew that I trusted the man who’d surprised me in my bed as I’d slept. I also believed Patrick trusted him. If he didn’t, I suspected that my cousin wouldn’t have allowed Nox into my room. No matter how dominating Lennox Demetri could be, Patrick was half Fitzgerald. I knew from experience that blood gave Pat more than his fair share of stubbornness.

  It wasn’t until I woke again over an hour later that I even realized that we’d made love in my cousin’s apartment. My cheeks reddened as I imagined meeting Patrick in the kitchen.

  Nearly forty minutes later, I did, both of us dressed and ready for our days.

  “Little cousin, did your night get better?” Patrick asked as I came into the kitchen.

  My shoulder lifted nonchalantly as I unsuccessfully kept a goofy grin from overtaking my face. “I slept better than I expected.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing, I’m just making an observation.”

  I stopped opening the container of Greek yogurt and looked down at myself. After I’d awakened alone, I’d taken a shower and dressed. Despite Nox’s approval of my post-sex scent, I’d been sure to cleanse it away. My ballet flats showed from the cuffs of my skinny jeans rolled fashionably above my ankles and my blouse fell to below my waist. My hair was plaited off to one side, lying upon my shoulder in a braid of amber, and my makeup was sparse but fresh.

  Pursing my lips, I looked back to Patrick. “What are you observing?”

  His cheeks rose. “My beautiful little cousin—happy, and if I’m completely honest, rather satiated, too.”

  I shook my head as I peeled back the yogurt’s lid. “Am I wearing a sign or were we too loud?”

  He laughed. “Neither. I just like seeing you happy. Really happy. I’m not sure I’ve ever s
een you glow like that—ever.”

  “I am,” I admitted as I shrugged and lifted the spoon near my lips, “I can’t explain it. It’s not as if I’ve forgotten about Chelsea. I haven’t. I have no idea what’s happening with her. I hope to figure it out, but in the meantime, there’s something about Nox that I’ve never experienced before. He makes me feel…” My breakfast began to blur with welling tears. “…special.”

  Patrick stepped down from the barstool and came around the counter, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. His cologne filled my senses, making me smile. “Don’t cry. You deserve this. It doesn’t matter how it happened. Don’t think about that. I feel the same way about Cy. We’re the lucky ones.”

  A twinge of guilt settled over me—I hadn’t been thinking about Infidelity. Instead of correcting his assumptions, I said, “Damn, Pat, you smell great! I’m surprised Cy doesn’t keep that cologne locked up. I mean, it’s divine!”

  Patrick’s brown eyes sparkled. “He’s coming home tonight. After the wake-up I heard this morning, I’m not sorry we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

  “You’re kicking me out?”

  “Never! I assumed that Mr. Good-looking wanted you home.”

  It was true, he did. But I felt refreshingly playful. “Then you’re saying that I cramp your style?”

  Pat took a step back and swept his hand over his chest. “Do I look like my style is ever cramped?”

  I laughed. “No, not at all. But you’re right. I’m going back to our place tonight. Thanks for letting me stay.”

  “You know that you’re always welcome.”

  “Always? Even when you’re wanting alone time?” I wiggled my brows.

  He kissed my forehead. “Always.”

  After my breakfast, I packed my few things, called Clayton, and wheeled my luggage with my backpack and purse down to the lobby. No sooner had I stepped from the glass doors that my driver pulled up to the curb.

  “After you drop me off at class, can you please take my things back to Mr. Demetri’s apartment?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  That was the extent of our conversation as we weaved through the morning traffic, moving from the Upper East to the Upper West Side.

  AS THE KEY turned in the lock of our apartment door, my chest constricted with an unhealthy sense of trepidation. It had been three days since I’d walked out of here. Three days since I’d read the letter.

  Did I know any more than I had that night?

  I knew that Nox had implied that he felt a responsibility in Jocelyn’s death, but never had he said he’d hurt her. My heart refused to allow that possibility to linger in my thoughts. I took a deep breath. My complicated man wasn’t ready to tell me more, and as curious as I was, I respected his privacy as he had mine.

  The aroma of heaven in the oven met me as I opened the door. Without hesitation, I dropped my backpack near the door, secured the locks, entered my code on the keypad, and made my way toward the kitchen.

  The table near the large windows was set for two, complete with unlit candles. The way the wax beaded along the tall spindles made my tummy flip and lower muscles clench—after our night in Del Mar, I’d never look at candle wax the same way again. Wine glasses were waiting for their contents while plates awaited our meal. A bottle of oil sat near the candles and next to a basket of bread, its crust crisp while the center appeared decadently soft.

  On the counter I found a note from Lana and grinned as I read what she wrote:

  Miss Collins/Mr. Demetri,

  I trust that this won’t be another meal that I end up dishing into your trash. I hope you enjoy it. It is the menu you requested.

  Happy dining,

  Lana

  I hadn’t requested it. That meant Nox had.

  The way my stomach growled told me that I had no intention of letting this meal join the others that had apparently been thrown away. I eased the oven door open. Hot air hit my face warming the chain of my new necklace as a brief burning sensation surrounded my neck. Reaching for the platinum cage holding the pearl, I inhaled the succulent scent. Cheeses bubbled with red sauce in the pan of lasagna. I had the distinct feeling that Lana wouldn’t use frozen meatballs if she were to make spaghetti.

  I checked my phone to see if I’d received a text from Nox. In the short time we’d lived together, he was pretty good at letting me know if he was to be late.

  There was only one text. It was from Jane’s phone, but I knew before I read the message that it wasn’t from Jane.

  Mother: “I’M SORRY YOU DON’T WANT TO COME HOME OR TALK. THIS ISN’T ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED OR YOUR REFUSAL TO COME HOME. THERE IS SO MUCH I SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU. TIME WAS RUNNING OUT. BUT I’VE SINCE LEARNED MORE.

  I NEED TO TELL YOU. I KNOW IF I DO, YOU’LL KNOW WHAT TO DO. ALEXANDRIA, YOU’RE SO SMART. SO INDEPENDENT. SO MUCH LIKE YOUR FATHER. PLEASE AGREE TO SEE ME. I’LL MEET YOU IN NEW YORK. ALTON WILL BE LEAVING NEXT WEEK. CALL THIS PHONE AND TALK TO JANE. LET HER KNOW WHEN WOULD BE THE BEST TIME.

  I’M NOT TRYING TO INTERRUPT YOUR SCHOOLING. BUT THIS NEW INFORMATION IS VITAL TO BOTH OUR FUTURES.

  PLEASE, PLEASE, RESPOND.

  LOVE, YOUR MOMMA”

  I stared down at the screen and wished that it would all go away. I wished that it had never happened, that she’d never married Alton, that my father had never died. I wished for a life of happiness and security.

  Slowly, the room around me came back into focus, as well as the table that was set and the uncertain time of my boyfriend’s arrival. Suddenly, even that uncertainty made me smile. In Savannah, dinner was always at seven. There were few exceptions to that rule.

  Mr. Lennox Demetri and his affinity for rules didn’t include mundane things like the time for dinner, and like most other things about Nox, I liked that. I’d found what I’d always sought—a life that was real, happy, and secure with just the right amount of spontaneity.

  As I debated the response I’d give my mother, I turned the oven to warm, made my way back to my office with my backpack, and apprehensively reached for the light switch. I’d spoken to both Deloris and Clayton and been reassured that the apartment was secure, but each room held a slight amount of apprehension for me.

  Turning on the light, I let out a breath at the order on my desk. The note that had started this chain of events was gone. Everything was as it had been.

  Remembering my surprise I’d had for Nox that fateful night, I made my way to our bedroom. The bed was made, pillows covering the headboard. But my attention went to the middle of the bed, the place where I’d left my vibrator. It was gone.

  Knots formed in my empty stomach as I imagined Bryce or even Jerrod seeing it. Maybe it was Deloris. My knees grew weak as I sank to the edge of the large king-sized mattress and worked to fight my embarrassment. It wasn’t as if they all didn’t know what Nox and I did, that we had sex, but that didn’t mean I wanted them seeing proof of it.

  And then I remembered Jane finding my vibrator in Savannah.

  I lay back on the bed and pulled out my phone. Instead of texting, I hit the call button and looked at the clock. It was nearly seven. I hoped that Alton and Mother would be eating or having pre-dinner cocktails. Either way, I thought it might be a time when Jane could talk.

  She answered on the second ring. “Child, you called!”

  My entire body warmed at the robust sound of her voice through my phone. “Yes, Jane, I did. I wanted to talk.”

  “Well, you know what time it is. You know your momma is getting ready for dinner.”

  I nodded, though she couldn’t see me. “Yes, I know that things never change in Savannah. I wanted to talk to you.”

  “To me?” she asked.

  “Yes. Since things never change in Savannah or with my momma, I thought maybe if I talked to you…”

  Jane’s tone slowed in the way it did when she wanted me to listen. “Things do change. Some of it… well, it’s kind of slow. But it happens. Don’t be so hard on your momma. She’s d
one her best.” An edge of excitement came into her voice. “And, well, some of the changes, they’re good.”

  I lifted my head, my elbows supporting my weight. “Tell me.”

  “It isn’t my place to tell. But your momma, she wants to talk to you.”

  “What? You said good. So she isn’t ill, is she?” I remembered Bryce telling me that she wasn’t well a month ago in California.

  “No, nothing like that,” Jane said. “Changes. This old place ain’t seen changes in, well, in a long time.”

  I shook my head. “Tell her…” I took a deep breath. “…tell her that I can talk to her.”

  “Child, I will. She probably call you back on my phone.”

  “All right. I’ll be waiting. But…”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m staying here. I’m working hard, and I want my dream.”

  “Alex, honey, that’s all anybody wants, they dream. Everybody has them. Your momma, she wanted that too.”

  My teeth raked my lower lip. “Did she ever get it?”

  “It’s not too late—it’s never too late, not until the good Lord calls us home. I’ll tell her you called.”

  Her answer gave me a little bit of hope and at the same time filled my mind with new questions.

  Why had I never thought of my mother as having her own dreams? Or could her dreams have been for me? What had she sacrificed for those dreams? Was Jane right? Was there still time?

  “Thank you, Jane.”

  “You remember?” she asked.

  My cheeks rose, just as they had since I was old enough to remember. “Yes, I remember.”

  “Prettier inside—that’s what you are. And on the outside, you’s beautiful.”

  “I love you.”

  “You know I love you,” Jane replied, before the line went dead.

  My lungs filled with air just before I collapsed back onto the bed with an exhale. The search for my lost vibrator was forgotten as my brief conversation with Jane replayed in my mind. Unbeknownst to me, tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, emotions I never intended to shed. I hated Savannah, but there were parts, like Jane and even my mother, that continued to call to me, to pull me back.