Madman’s Method: Madman Duet Book One

by Mason, V. F.

  Too bad for him I don’t give two shits about it. “Nope. I’m sorry I said yes, but I have different plans for it.” Something crosses his face, but it passes so quickly that I can’t identify it.

  Then he swallows his beer and shrugs, the carefree grin back on his face. “Let me know if you change your mind. All the hot ones are taken, so I will be flying solo.” He waves at Samantha, who just entered the house, and moves to go to her, but I fist his shirt, stopping his movements. “Hey, changed your mind so soon?”

  I chuckle at his joke, because it’s impossible to stay stern with Ethan; no wonder he is called the jokester of the team. “No. I want to know who picked Patricia.”

  He rubs his chin with his cup, thinking on it, but by his blunt expression, I know the answer before he speaks. “No one. She is a fucking bitch when it comes to social gatherings. No guy wants his balls cut off for forgetting something during the dance.”

  No, no.

  No, no, no.

  If she ever finds out about it, there is going to be hell to pay. “Who is Ralph taking?” I ask quickly, searching for the captain among the jocks, but he is nowhere in sight.

  Where is he?

  Sam joins us, jumping on Ethan and wrapping her legs around him while giving him a deep kiss, and I roll my eyes, waiting for them to finish.

  And this guy asked me to the homecoming dance?

  Since they are going at it like crazy, I tap Sam’s shoulder, and she leans back, her hooded gaze on me. “Just one second, girl, please.” She nods, skimming her lips to his neck while I click my fingers in Ethan’s face. “Where is Ralph?”

  “He went upstairs with Meghan. He is going with her. She might be in the nerd segment, but fuck she is hot.” That’s all he manages to say before Sam attacks his mouth again.

  Oh my God, as in Meghan Varo, one of Patricia’s biggest nemeses?

  I spin around to search for my friend, thoughts of Eachann momentarily forgotten until I spot him by the piano, drumming his fingers on it, a beautiful melody emerging that tugs on the strings of my soul.

  He is so angelically handsome with his elbow on the lid, his knees spread, and his other hand playing. His eyes are closed, giving himself fully to the art, and it seems like he manages to block the world away.

  “Eachann,” I whisper, my entire being brightening at seeing him again, and the familiar love rushes through me like huge waves on the beach.

  It’s like he hears me, because his eyes snap open and his pools are on me, so much agony in them it shakes me to the core.

  I step in his direction, wanting to soothe whatever is going on inside him, when I notice Patricia from the corner of my eyes with Stan who is telling her something.

  Disbelief flashes in her gaze and her hands fist before she sends me a death glare.

  She found out about the hat, and since my name was there… I just became an enemy she needs to hurt.

  The next thing she does plays out in slow motion with her going to Eachann, dropping onto his lap, and wrapping her hands around his neck, fusing their mouths together.

  My heart stops beating for a moment, and the air sticks in my lungs while I shake my head, wanting to erase this image, but it doesn’t go away.

  But the pain comes when his graceful arms circle her waist, pressing her to him, and he answers her kiss as people whistle and catcall in their direction.

  Eachann, the boy I’ve had crush on for forever, and my best friend kissing for the world to see while I’m left to stand and bleed from the invisible knife they stabbed in me.

  My whole body trembles. It feels like someone has hit me in the chest so hard I can’t move, but I find enough strength to run away from there before I fall to my knees and cry my eyes out.

  Tears are streaming down my face when I get outside, grabbing the porch railing and sobbing, the image seared into my brain, shattering me.

  How could they have done it to me?

  Even if she was angry, how could she kiss him when she knows I’ve dreamed about him my whole life?

  I saved all my firsts for him, and he kissed my best friend instead.

  Through all my sobs, the music still blasts from the speakers, shaking the walls. The sound of a lighter flicking open and someone inhaling a cigarette penetrates my ears, and I turn to the guy leaning on the wall; his leg is hiked back, and he holds the cigarette between his teeth, a smirk on his face. “What is it, ice princess? Your saint turned out to be just a mortal man?”

  Of course I should have expected that.

  The devil is here to enjoy my misery.

  If back then I knew the truth, I would have run away as fast as I could from Cole’s house.

  I would have called my mom and asked her to save me from the forthcoming doom.

  I would have never crossed paths with Eudard who had the words sin and deceit written all over him.

  But I stayed, forever locking myself in their mantrap.

  Cruel founding kids who have no mercy for anyone else.

  Cassandra

  “Oh my,” I murmur, shifting a little in Cole’s car. He graciously offered to bring me here as I walked out of the church while Patricia explained how to get to her house, beating Ethan to it.

  Rolling the window down, I press my palm to my mouth as my gaze stays glued to the huge mansion opening up to our view as we ride through the massive gates.

  The four-story stately home is made of gray granite and spreads horizontally, right in the middle of the Browns’ acreage. A fountain sits in the middle of the circular driveway, and statues showcase different forms of art near the front door.

  Gasping, I point at one of them. “Oh my God, they are so beautiful. The artist is a genius.” I lean forward, as if wanting to drink in every feature carved on the creamy marble that glistens brightly. “It’s like it’s alive and waves at me.” I think it showcases Venus greeting newcomers with a small wave while her dress ripples around her legs; it’s a hard thing to do with marble’s texture. A crown of flowers is on top of her head while her hair cascades down her back.

  The statues complement the huge garden surrounding the mansion; different kinds of flowers from roses to orchids, while several benches and alcoves can be seen in the distance, add to the mysterious atmosphere. It could be used on magazine covers, and people would flock to the place, wanting to know more about it. I think I’ve never seen such green grass, almost like the clearest of emeralds.

  Not that it surprises me much, considering the Browns have one of the best estates in this town, and their garden is legendary for the annual hunting games, since it opens onto the forest leading to no-man’s-land.

  The most prestigious place in town, aside from the Campbells’ mansion.

  After all, no one can have a better anything than the reigning family of this town.

  Cole clears his throat, snapping my attention back to him, and I see his cheeks heat up. “I’m the artist.” He puffs his chest up, pride lacing every word. “Took me about three months for each statue.” He waits a bit before adding, “That’s fast for a sculptor.”

  I almost laugh at this, because during my studies in dancing school I’ve known artists who could make it in a month without sweating, but Cole has always lived in his head and his vanity has only increased in recent years.

  And besides, that’s exactly the reaction I wanted, since I couldn’t care less about Ralph’s house. “Truly?” I shift on my seat to my left to have a better look at him and then bat my eyelashes. “You’re an artist?” Then I slap my forehead and groan loudly. “Of course. The paint on your fingers. I’m so stupid.”

  He is still blushing under my praise. “Yeah, I paint and sculpt, but I mostly prefer sculpting. There is something about carving those emotions on everyone’s faces. It’s like when I touch marble I’m the god in my own kingdom and create whatever I want.” He stares ahead of us as we pull up by the main door, yet he seems miles away, zoning out of this conversation. His hands squeeze the steering wheel harder,
which indicates to me he is in one of his zones.

  Years of research has skilled me in knowing their moods and behaviors, likes and dislikes. Anything that will allow me to manipulate the situation in my favor.

  Clicking my fingers in front of his nose snaps him out of his stupor, and he jerks on the seat, stopping the car abruptly right at the door where the butler is waiting for us already. “Sorry,” Cole mumbles and gets out of the vehicle while I do the same, smiling at James, who must be in his seventies now.

  The Browns would never give retirement to their best workers. Last I heard, they threatened to take away the land he’d earned if he quit. “Thank you.” He nods at me and points at the door. “Please come in, and welcome to the town.” His voice holds nothing but friendliness, but I hear how tired he is and note how his shoulders sag a little.

  Before I can stop myself, I pat his arm and murmur, “We are the last car to arrive. You can rest for a bit.” His blinks in surprise, and then his eyes narrow as if he’s searching for something on my face, but I’m already stepping back, cursing myself inwardly for speaking when I shouldn’t have.

  He’d been like a grandpa to Arianna, always helping her whenever she had math problems and spoiling her with candy when he came to her parents for legal advice. But he knows nothing about Cassandra.

  And I don’t have any feelings to give him, because he needs to be far away from my revenge.

  He whispers, “Thank you,” though. And that’s when Cole appears next to me, once again lifting his elbow and motioning with his head. “Let’s go.”

  My heels click on the stairs, and I control every instinct to not barf from Cole’s scent penetrating my nostrils. Along with his voice that hurts my ears with each word.

  I wish I had red paint to splash all over her. That would have been epic.

  “So, I heard you are a dancing lady,” he says, probably wondering how his niece knew something about me that he doesn’t. She must have seen me yesterday, because I remember seeing ponytails bobbing in the distance when I finished my practice and drove home.

  What a great opportunity to throw my twisted web on them now; if I tell Cole something, the whole founding five will know within twenty-four hours.

  Patricia won’t allow more attention on me during this lunch; I can guarantee that. So this is the best next thing.

  “Yes, I’m a professional contemporary dancer but had to stop due to an injury.”

  He frowns and then squeezes my palm on his elbow, remorse in his tone. “I’m so sorry about that. It must have been hard.” He shakes his head. “I can’t imagine losing the ability to do my art.”

  I just said I had an injury, and Cole is acting as if I told him I can’t dance all together.

  What an idiot.

  But when you want an enemy even more mesmerized with you, you act like you can relate to his every feeling, and in doing this, attach him to you even more.

  Glancing down, I sigh sadly. “Yes, some days I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

  When we reach the huge oak door, Cole pushes it a little, allowing me to step inside first. The scent of roses fills my nose, mingling with the aroma of delicious food that floats on the air, luring newcomers to the dining room that is several feet away, leading to the terrace door that opens up on the garden.

  “Cassandra,” Patricia calls my name, emerging from the arched doorway and smiling brightly, wiggling her fingers at me. “Everyone is waiting for you.” Her tone loses all traces of friendliness and becomes stone-cold when she addresses Cole. “You’re late.”

  He shrugs, not giving a shit. “So? It’s not like we’ve missed anything special. I bet right now everyone is strolling around the terrace, discussing the high school’s latest football team’s accomplishment, with the founding five wondering about their stocks.”

  I snort at this, because in this moment, despite my feelings toward Cole, it’s hilarious, especially so with Patricia’s face turning red from anger.

  She barks at him, “Watch it, Cole.” Then she takes a deep breath, plasters this fake smile of hers on once again, and tells me, “Let’s go.”

  She ushers us into the dining room, and I blink at the latest changes. They’ve obviously been done by her, because they weren’t present last time I visited this place.

  The spacious room is decorated in red and gold with a crystal chandelier hanging above, which probably lights up the room brighter than freaking Christmas lights.

  Golden-shaded marble is polished so well I can see our reflections in it, and finally, all the expensive furniture is made out of oak, only adding to the luxurious decor.

  The staff are putting china dishes on the table, each filled with food that steams and smells like I’m at the most outstanding restaurant in town.

  Patricia really took her job as Brown’s daughter-in-law seriously and turned it into her kingdom.

  I’m glad she became a queen. It will be more fun to take her crown and plant her face down in the dirt.

  “Patricia, if the rest of the house is like outside and this room, then yours is officially the most beautiful one I’ve seen.” Sincerity laces my tone, and I see pleasure filling her gaze because I chose the moment when all the guests stepped back inside from the terrace, so my words echo around the place.

  She puts her hands on my shoulders and introduces me to everyone. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is our new guest, Cassandra Scott. She recently moved here. She used to live in…” She pauses, awaiting my reply.

  “New York.”

  “In New York.” One of the guests opens her mouth to say something, but Patricia claps her hands and announces, “Lunch is here, so please sit, everyone. We don’t want the food to get cold.” Everyone obeys her while murmuring to each other about the latest stock market reports, just like Cole said.

  In another time, when I used to be friends with her, I’d have probably been happy with how much she got everything she wanted. They almost managed to acquire as much power as the Campbells have.

  She is respected, lives in the world of luxury, and judging by my reports, managed to combine two families into one empire.

  All her dreams came true, and what more could I have wished for my best friend?

  But what she did to me on that night forever slashed a knife between us, and no amount of atonement could erase that.

  Now only her downfall will bring me happiness.

  Madman

  Parking the car near the main door, I get out of it quickly, the harsh wind slapping me in the face and blowing my suit jacket back. The fucking weather can’t make up its mind; it either gives heat or this.

  Leaving the vehicle running, I dash toward the door as James is coming down the stairs, breathing heavily. “Mr. Campbell, your keys. I apologize for not waiting. They didn't inform me to expect you.”

  Waving his concern off, I grab him by the shoulder and halt his movements, each word coated in authority that instantly makes him straighten his back. “Stop, James. I will be out soon, so no need to take care of my car. And besides, I’m Eudard and not Mr. Campbell.”

  He huffs in exasperation and then places his hands on his hips. “You made me run like crazy here, boy. You never show up for Sunday lunches in this hell.”

  I chuckle, because he finally reminds me of the man who used to chase me around this place and then pull my ears when I wouldn’t listen to him.

  He was also the one to treat my wounds when—

  Shaking my head, for the past that has no place in the present for now, I wink at him and resume my walk. “I’m mysterious like that.”

  “I don’t think anyone expects you,” he shouts.

  Without turning my back to him, I reply, “Where would the fun be if they did?”

  And besides, I don’t give a fuck what Ralph and Patricia think about me. They can never kick me off their lands, not if they want to live peacefully.

  Peace is a fickle thing though, and I’m about to flip a coin on their lives, just waiting for
Cassandra to make her choice who to destroy first.

  I’m here for my phoenix, who is about to bring chaos to the residents of this mansion. I’ve already seen her strolling in the church all seductive, as if she is free for the taking.

  Like a black widow luring her victim to her web right before she cuts their head off, then dancing off in the moonlight.

  My fists clench while the beast inside me roars, because Cassandra is mistaken about one thing.

  I’m not going to allow her to flaunt her body for everyone to see, so she can dangle it in their faces.

  They can look, but they can’t even hope to touch or taste, imagining her moans of desire.

  She belongs to me.

  She is mine and no one else’s.

  And I’m about to stake my claim.

  Cassandra

  The china is clattering loudly as everyone digs into the food, praising Patricia for her cooking skills as if she is the one spending time in front of the oven.

  If I remember it right, she never so much as stepped into the kitchen, let alone cooked a decent meal.

  However, appearances are always about deceit, because our true selves are hidden behind beautiful masks that can rarely be cracked.

  “Cassandra, what were you doing in New York?” one of the guests asks, looking at me curiously, and everyone shifts their attention to me, momentarily stopping their conversation.

  Washing down the potatoes in my mouth with water, I reply, “Contemporary dance. I performed on stages for years before my injury.”

  Her brows furrow, and then she smiles so wide I wonder if she’ll tear her mouth. “Oh right! Cassandra Scott! You are one of the best contemporary dancers of your generation. I’ve seen you perform countless times in online videos.” She addresses the man sitting next to her, probably her husband. “She has a channel where she explains different dance moves.”

  “Oh!” he exclaims, blinking in interest and resting his elbow on the table. “Any money in that?” His wife nudges him in the side and he shrugs.