by Ivy Fox
Fuck.
I no longer have until the first snowfall. My timeframe to finish my task has just shortened immensely. I need to get Em out of Asheville as fast as possible. If I don’t, those antsy bastards might come after her themselves, and who knows what they’ll do to her to keep her quiet.
She gets up from her seat and starts walking through the library, turning her back to me and giving me a view of her ass. As much as I like what she’s throwing in my direction, it’s not enough to settle my nerves.
“Now it’s my turn to ask you something.”
“I’m an open book.”
To this, she laughs, but even the sweet timbre of it can’t ease the tightness in my chest.
“If only that were true,” she mumbles but then shakes it off and walks over to a clear bookcase.
“What are these?” She taps the glass with the tip of her nails.
I get up from my seat and walk over to her, needing to be near her for some inexplicable reason.
“What do they look like?”
“Diaries of some sort. Very old diaries.”
“Correct. These are my family’s ledgers, passed down from generation to generation. It goes back to the first Richfields who settled in this house–Lionel and Laura Richfield. Since then, every head of the family writes down their experiences and then locks it here for the next head of the family.”
“Does that mean you’ll get to add to this collection?”
“That privilege goes to someone else,” I retort coldly.
“Have you read them?”
“No. My older sister Meredith has, though. She’s the first in line. Not me. I’m what you can call a spare.”
“Is that how you see yourself?”
“No. That would be too kind of an adjective to describe me.”
A deep v settles on the bridge of her nose where her glasses sit. She surprises me by holding onto my hand a second time today and taking one step closer to me.
“I guess being a part of this family isn’t as easy as one would assume.”
“Prison never is.”
The pregnant pause that ensues has me paralyzed to the spot. The energy between us crackles as if a magnetict current has wrapped itself around us with the sole purpose of pulling us closer to one another. I lift her chin gently with my knuckles so that I can get a better view of her face. No alcohol in the world can intoxicate me more than staring into Emma’s whiskey-colored eyes. Her long lashes bat a mile a minute under her catlike glasses, and when her tongue peeks out to moisten her lips, my cock aches to feel her touch. The moment, however, is ruined when we hear footsteps approach. She drops my hand like a hot potato and takes two steps away from me, looking everywhere but at me.
“Am I interrupting something?” my father’s velvety voice rings out through the room.
“Yes. Go away,” I tell him in annoyance but the fucker only broadens his smile, walking directly over to where Emma is standing.
“We haven’t been officially introduced. You must be the teacher that has surprised us all by getting Colt interested in something less self-serving than what we are accustomed to from him. Now I can see why.”
“Emma Harper,” she states evenly, reaching out her hand for my father to shake. I watch her back go ramrod straight when my father takes her hand and places a kiss on it instead.
Motherfucker.
“Owen,” he replies, all smiles and sparkling emerald eyes.
Emma pulls her hand away, squaring her shoulders and planting the stern expression on her face that she loves to use in class.
“I think you don’t give your son enough credit. He’s been quite helpful to me.”
“I bet he has.”
His less-than-subtle insinuation is as loud as the rage rattling in my chest. I want to slap his fucking smug smile off his face, but Emma beats me to the punch.
“Ah, now I see where Colt gets it from,” Emma interjects.
“What might that be?”
“The ability to speak his mind without forethought.”
Instead of being insulted, my father actually laughs.
“Yes. Quite true.” His continued chuckle aggravates my nerves. “Colt takes after me more than he’d like to admit. Don’t you, son?”
“If that’s true, I might as well kill myself now.” I gift him my best wolfish grin.
“See? He’s exactly how I used to be at his age, but time will ease his rough edges soon enough. Either that or a good woman who is perseverant and patient enough to tame him.”
I don’t like the way he’s staring at Emma as he goes about spewing his warped wisdom.
“Is there a point to this little visit of yours, or can we get back to work?”
“Colt’s right. We really should continue,” Emma adds, her smile as fake as a cubic zirconia simulated diamond.
“Of course. God forbid I interrupt my son’s scholarly devotion.”
He begins to walk out of the room but then halts halfway.
What now?
“Professor Harper, my family hosts a New Year’s Eve party every year. I’ve been told you don’t have any family nearby, so maybe you’d consider being my family’s guest.”
“That would be lovely. Thank you,” Emma responds politely.
“Glad to hear it. I hope it’s not too forward of me to ask, but is it true that you live in Charlotte?”
“It is,” she replies, puzzled at his left-field question.
What are you up to, old man?
“I thought I heard as much. I’ve seen that your sessions with my son have run quite late into the night, and it concerned me that you still had such a long ride ahead of you to return back home. If you ever need to prolong your work here, one of the guest rooms will always be at your disposal. I’d feel much better knowing your safety is taken care of.”
“Thank you. That’s very considerate of you.”
“Well, I guess I best leave you two to it then. Nice to meet you, Emma.”
“Likewise.”
When my father finally leaves, I snap my attention to Emma, taking three long strides to reach her. I grip her chin forcefully, her eyes widening in alarm.
“What are you doing?!”
“You are not sleeping one night under this roof. Do you understand me?” I bark out like a possessed man.
“Let go of me!” she seethes, her nails sinking into my wrist.
“Not until you tell me you understand! Spit it out, Em, before I run out of patience.”
“Yes! Okay! I won’t sleep here.”
Before I can stop myself, I lean in and bruise her lips with mine.
This isn’t the same inquisitive slow tempo kiss she let me steal from her yesterday in class. It’s hard and brutal, intent on making my point. This kiss tells her not to fuck with me. The only Turner that gets to taste her is me, and it will serve her well to remember that shit. When I feel her hands unlatch from my wrist so they can rest on my chest, I pull away.
“Now that’s settled, let’s get back to work. I want you gone before dinner.”
Instead of giving me an attitude, Emma sits back in her chair, mute as a Buddhist monk, and does exactly what I ordered. Her unexpected obedience should make me happy, but it doesn’t.
It’s forced and entirely against her nature.
But Emma isn’t stupid.
Far from it.
She knows that when an animal is close to breaking out of its cage, poking at it will only guarantee to infuriate the beast further.
And right now, she’s the only thing I want to sink my teeth in.
Chapter 14
Colt
Secrets are my family’s most treasured heirlooms, and our various homes are the very mortuaries that keep our lies hidden. Keeping secrets has been in my veins for as long as I can remember, and now The Society wants me to uncover one of the many and shine a light on it. Their only hint is that this dark, mysterious secret has been withheld from me by the people I’m closest to.
Out of the many Richfield skeletons that my family keeps under lock and key, how am I to know which one they want, let alone be able to find out the ones no one talks about?
What if the secret they want is Linc’s?
I can’t let my thoughts go there. Sure these assholes know a lot, but I doubt they know that clusterfuck. And if they did, wouldn’t they leave it for Linc to disclose in his own task?
I pinch the bridge of my nose to ease the headache that’s fast approaching. Between The Society and my family, I don’t know which is more fucked up or causes more migraines. But while I’ve been dealing with my family’s baggage for all of my life, The Society is the only one who has the means to ruin me.
Ruin us.
And since Emma let the cat out of the bag yesterday, revealing she is determined to out them in her book, putting herself in harm’s way, they are the ones who I need to focus on.
What did she tell me the other day regarding uncovering hidden truths?
Go to the first plausible suspect and do your due diligence.
So in my case, there are only two people who immediately come to mind, and those, of course, would be my parents. In their very particular cunning way, they are both experts at covering up the truth with well-fabricated lies and making everyone believe that they are what every southern-born elitist family should aspire to be. It sickens me to my very core how well they both play their part in the charade of the perfect couple.
I look at my watch and confirm that it’s close to midday. No one will be home at this hour, so if I want to do some serious snooping, this is my best chance.
As I expected, when I arrive home early from school, the cold mausoleum is empty save for a few servants running about the place to keep everything spick and span like the lady of the house demands. My father should be golfing or whatever he does at this hour, while my mother and Meredith should be busy with their usual Richfield Foundation tasks. Abby and Irene will be home from high school around four, which leaves me with enough time to search around and see if I can find something that will give me an idea of what The Society expects from me.
I don’t even have to think about where to go first.
Intuitively I head directly to my father’s favorite hiding place in the whole house. If there is anything worth discovering, it will be in his study. I step inside his sanctuary and take a good look around the place filled with books and family memorabilia, the scent of bourbon and his cologne still hanging in the air. There are endless pictures of us kids on the mantle above his fireplace, making him look like the family man he’s not.
I walk over to his desk and see two framed pictures—one of me, my sisters, and Lincoln at some party taken at the Hamilton Estate and another of my mother on their wedding day.
What a fucking joke.
I sit in his chair and pick my mother’s frame up, feeling disgusted with the pretense. If he felt anything for her, he wouldn’t be sticking his dick in everything around town. And he sure as hell wouldn’t be inviting women he just met to spend the night in the same house his wife and kids sleep in.
Every time I remember his offer to Emma, my blood boils.
The fucker had the audacity to offer her one of our guest rooms right under my nose and use her supposed safety as an excuse. It’s a good thing Emma got the hint that her spending one night here would be one night too many.
I know my father.
He’d seduce and find his way into her bed eventually.
And that betrayal would kill any lasting speck of love I could still have for him.
And as to Emma?
The Society could do whatever the fuck they wanted to her.
I wouldn’t care.
She’d be as dead to me as he is.
The tumultuous thoughts continue to run wild in my head as I keep looking at my mother’s uncharacteristically smiling face. But then something else grabs my attention, pulling me out of my animus mood. My mother’s wedding picture is slanted somewhat, its angle inclining down just a bit. I can tell there is something else beneath the picture. I turn it over, unclasping the back end of the frame, and sure enough, two pictures fall onto the desk.
One of my mother.
And the other…
Of Scarlett.
Heat rushes through me, and it takes everything in me not to rip it into tiny pieces. There is only one reason a man would hide a picture of another woman amongst his prized possessions—he’s fucking her.
I guess it didn’t take me much time to discover what The Society wanted after all. They want me to humiliate my mother by exposing what looks to be my father’s new mistress. Hate bleeds through me, not only for the betrayal done against the woman who gave me life but for the girl who looks so innocent in her drab clothes and large glasses.
Easton loves her, and she does this to him?!
Fucking cold-hearted bitch!
Easy, Colt.
Think.
If I go to Easton with this, he’ll never believe me. Or worse, he will, and it’ll end him.
I can’t have that.
The dark prince and I have always had this unspoken bond in our little band of brothers. While Finn is all heart and Lincoln is slowly on his way to sainthood, East and I have always been the odd men out when it comes to genuine goodness. We don’t have that gene in us. However, I have seen a change in him since Scarlett came into his life. The gloomy, dark cloud that always seemed to hover above him is nowhere in sight, and in its place, love shines through him. He managed to find peace when there was only a raging battlefield inside of him before.
No. I can’t tell Easton.
Scarlett is the one I have to pay a visit to. I want to hear her deny it to my face, and when she can’t, I’ll tell her to get the fuck out of Asheville before Easton ever finds out what a two-timing snake she is. Easton might suffer from her sudden disappearance, but it’s better than the alternative. Knowing that the person he put his trust and love in could betray him so coldly is something Easton could never recover from.
I know that feeling, and if I can spare him that ugly, gut-wrenching pain, I will.
Luckily for me, tomorrow is Friday night.
Which means it’s about time I pay the Brass Guild another visit.
I watch from the sidelines as Scarlett belts out her song, leaving everyone awestruck by her vocal range. As expected, Easton is at his usual table with his eyes fixed on the woman on stage. I need to get Scarlett alone, but it’s going to be difficult with him being here. I scour the room until I find the red-haired vixen I’m looking for. When Ruby finishes charming one of the Brass Guild’s members and begins to walk over to her next client, I make my move.
“Mr. Turner. What a surprise,” she greets, plopping two kisses on my cheeks, sure to leave a mark with her blood-red lipstick. “I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you here without your entourage.”
“Sometimes we just have to do our thing solo, don’t you agree?”
“Quite so. How can I help you this evening? Maybe some company while you watch Angel’s show?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could get a private audience with your star singer.”
I watch her gaze travel over to her protégée, and instantly her expression morphs from flirtatious to protective.
“I don’t think that can be arranged,” she replies, less hospitable than she was a minute ago.
“Now Ruby, I thought the Brass Guild was all about indulging its guests.”
“If talking to Angel is so important, shouldn’t you ask her boyfriend first? Maybe he’ll be more indulging. He’s sitting right there. Shall I ask him?” she coos, placing her head on my shoulder, pointing at East.
“I don’t see why he should be bothered.” My jaw ticks when I see that just like Emma, Ruby is also immune to my charms, making me have to think quickly on my feet. “Especially since that’s exactly why I’d like to talk to her alone. It has
to do with Easton, and I would rather not have him know I talked to her.”
She instantly pulls away from me, her brows pinched in worry.
“Don’t worry. He’s not stepping out on her or anything.”
Your precious Angel is.
“I’m not sure if you know this, but East and his family have been going through a lot recently. I thought maybe if I talked to Scarlett in private, she might know how we, his friends, can help them recover better without hurting his pride.”
“Yes, I heard what happened to Easton’s mother. Scarlett has nothing but praise for Naomi Price. A true shame.”
“So, will you help me, Ruby? For Easton? I know it would mean a lot to Scarlett.”
When Ruby’s eyes soften, I know I’ve got her.
“Fine. I can get you five minutes.”
“Make it ten, and I’ll make it worth your while.” I wink.
“That would mean that I would have to keep Easton busy.”
“I’m sure you can come up with something.” I scan up and down at her voluptuous figure.
“That boy only has eyes for Angel, so if you are insinuating that I seduce him, then I’m sorry to disappoint you, but he won’t buy that.”
Jesus. Am I the only guy in Asheville that isn’t pussy-whipped?
“Christmas is coming. How about you just talk about something he can buy Scarlett as a present. I’m sure he’d be grateful for your help.”
“I guess that can work. But Colt, if I find out that you are lying to me and harass Scarlett in any way, consider this your last visit to The Brass Guild. Do we understand each other?”
“Perfectly.”
“Come with me then.” She huffs and begins to take me backstage. I follow her lead, and within minutes we enter a room filled with elaborate costumes and dresses all over the place.
“This is Angel’s dressing room. She’ll come here to freshen up and change before she leaves. I can give you ten minutes at best since Easton usually comes in after she’s done with her shows.”