by Callie Rose
I’m glad I told him. I’m glad he and the others are on my side. I’m glad I don’t have to make these fucking choices alone.
My fingers are still locked with his, and I rest our joined hands on my knees as I watch him, giving him time to think.
Finally, he dips his chin once. “Okay. Just for a little while though. Just for a few days. Then, whether we know more or not, we tell him.”
“Okay.” I nod vigorously.
That buys me a little time. Hopefully it’ll be enough time to dig deeper and see if this insane hunch actually means anything, or if I’m just grasping at straws, desperate for some kind of resolution.
What I know, you’ll know.
Those words filter through my head, and a twinge of guilt burns through my stomach. I was so fucking pissed at Lincoln when I thought he and the other kings had betrayed me, had hung me out to dry, alone and desperate.
But he had a reason. A good one.
And I do too.
Hopefully, he’ll forgive me like I did him.
No more secrets.
Except one.
12
River and I stay in the stairwell talking for a while longer after he agrees not to tell Linc or the other two boys about my suspicions regarding Mr. Black.
He doesn’t have a car on campus, so we use a ride share app to get a lift back to the Black family mansion. Lincoln is waiting for us, on edge and a little suspicious after I turned down my usual ride home with him. But I’m sure he has no idea what River and I talked about, the true reason I’d asked River to stay.
The three of us end up downstairs in one of the rec rooms, and Linc pulls me onto his lap on the big, plush couch set against one wall. His hands settle possessively on my waist, and I see his gaze dart between me and River a couple times.
Does he think something happened between us?
If he does, he doesn’t seem mad about it. He isn’t glaring at his friend or looking at me with anger or suspicion. His touch is definitely proprietary though, as if he wants to remind both me and River that, no matter what might’ve gone on between us, Lincoln hasn’t relinquished his claim on me.
That he might share, but he’ll never let go entirely.
Nothing did happen between me and River—well, nothing more intimate than sitting close together, heads bent and fingers interlaced—but I find myself almost regretting that fact. He kissed me once, the night I was attacked outside the poker game at the warehouse, and it was a good fucking kiss.
He looked at Lincoln right before he did it, some silent communication passing between them, and it occurs to me that maybe he was staking a claim on me too in that moment.
God, why am I thinking about this so much?
It’s crazy. My life is complicated enough as it is right now without trying to juggle more than one domineering alpha male.
Then again, these boys are in my life for good now, whether I ever wanted them to be or not. The bond between us, the secret that ties us all together, is strong enough to override everything else.
Now it’s just a question of how they’ll be in my life, what we’ll all be to each other.
And that question has a much more complicated answer.
“So, what the fuck is going on, Low?”
Lincoln’s voice is a gruff murmur near my ear, and River’s gaze lands on me too as I turn to face the boy beneath me.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, I guess—I have a piece of news big enough to justify my freakout without bringing my theories about Linc’s father into it.
“Savannah fucked with one of my tests again. In the same class as last time, Business and Economics.”
“What?” Linc’s amber eyes narrow.
“Yeah. But she used an old answer key. So not only was it completely obvious the answers were rigged, but I only got a fucking C minus on the exam.”
I’m still not sure whether I’ll have to keep that grade or not, since both the principal and Mr. Arndt know the results were doctored. But I’m a little scared to push about it. I barely walked out of that office as a Linwood Academy student, and I’m a little worried that if I bitch too much about my grade, Mr. Osterhaut will retract his offer of a final chance and just expel me right now.
“What the hell?” Linc mutters, his hands at my waist stiffening as a murderous expression crosses his face. “I told her to stop fucking with you.”
I can feel the tension building in his body, and I shoot a glance at River, suddenly glad beyond words that we haven’t told the dark-haired boy about his dad’s possible involvement yet. If this is how he reacts when Savannah is a shit to me, I can’t even imagine what he’d do if he thought his dad killed Iris and framed my mom. Maybe even tried to come after me too.
“She mostly has,” I say, wriggling on his lap to get more comfortable… and yeah, maybe to distract him a little.
It works though, because something under my left ass cheek begins to harden, and he lets out a low growling noise, his breath stirring my hair.
“I think this is one of the last things she thinks she can get away with,” I add, shaking my head. “Overt bullying will get her caught and maybe expelled, but fucking with my tests makes me look like the delinquent, not her. I talked Mr. Osterhaut in to giving me one more chance, and I’m supposed to work something out with Mr. Arndt to take my tests in a private room or something so he knows I can’t cheat. But I’m not sure if that’ll work, since I don’t know how Savannah is accessing the exams in the first place.”
“So we need to stop her,” he grunts.
“Uh, yeah.”
I shoot a pleading glance at River, since the tone of Linc’s voice and the look on his face make me think he’s considering doing something that will definitely get him expelled. The quiet boy nods almost imperceptibly, which I hope means he’ll do something to talk Linc out of any insane plans he might cook up to get back at Savannah.
At least this topic has completely diverted Lincoln from wondering what we were doing when we stayed late at school. A couple hours later, he drives River back home—I never noticed it before I found out about his hearing impairment, but River pretty much never gets behind the wheel of a car.
I head upstairs. When I reach the landing on the second floor, I glance to my left and see Mr. Black emerging from the master bedroom.
He nods and smiles broadly at me like he always does when he runs into me around the house.
But today, the sight makes my blood run cold.
Bri Marshall’s first week as interim Executive Housekeeper turns out to be a sort of trial by fire situation, since the Blacks decide to host another cocktail party on Saturday. My mom oversaw several of these, and by the last one—the one Detective Dunagan crashed when he arrested her—she had everything running like a well-oiled machine.
But I know her first one stressed her out, and I can see the same thing happening to Bri as she bustles around the house over the next couple days getting things ready for the party. By the time Saturday rolls around, the entire mansion is like a three-ring circus.
Caterers, serving staff, and decorators are coming and going, there’s a mix-up with a floral delivery, and when a woman wearing a dark coat and an annoyed expression shows up at the door, I honestly don’t even think Bri knows what the new arrival is here for.
Organizing this kind of chaos is a special skill, and a flare of pride rises up in me to know that Mom is so good at it.
Honestly, it makes me a little sad to see the party preparations going on—to see someone else handling the planning and logistics, and to be reminded that for almost everyone besides my mom, life has gone on as normal in the three weeks since her arrest.
But now that I’m harboring suspicions about Samuel Black, it also makes a part of my soul burn with fury.
He’s throwing a fucking party? While she rots in jail?
If he put her there, I swear to fucking God, I’ll—
I stop myself before I can finish that thought, tossing my text
book down on the floor with a thud. Nothing I’ve read in the past half hour has stuck in my brain, so it’s a waste of time to keep flipping pages.
Aside from a few trips downstairs, which gave me a chance to observe the madness, I’ve been holed up in my room all afternoon, studying and thinking way too much.
More than ever, I’m convinced it was the right call not to say anything to Lincoln. I can barely be in the same room with Mr. Black anymore. Every interaction we’ve had over the past few days has felt forced and awkward. I don’t know how to act natural around him anymore, to see him as the slightly-too-friendly-but-harmless man who hired my mom to come work for him.
I hope like hell he hasn’t picked up on anything being amiss. Maybe it’ll work in my favor that ever since my mom got hauled away in the back of a cop car, I haven’t really felt like myself. If he does notice any weirdness, hopefully he’ll just attribute it to that.
But if Lincoln knew?
Shit, I know he’s a good liar, but it’d take a damn Oscar-worthy performance to convince his dad that everything was normal. That his secret was still safe.
Blowing out a breath, I lean over the arm of the easy chair to pluck my phone off the floor, pressing the button on the side to turn the screen on.
5:32 p.m.
Guests will start arriving for the party around seven, I think.
I’m about to pick up my biology textbook, hoping maybe a change of subject will refresh my brain, when the muffled sound of raised voices reaches my ears.
I hesitate, tilting my head slightly to pick up the noise better. It’s coming from the east wing of the house—which on the second floor is taken up almost entirely by the master bedroom, master sitting room, and double walk-in closets and en suite bathrooms. Seriously, our entire house back in Arizona could fit into Mr. and Mrs. Black’s living quarters in this mansion.
And that’s who’s yelling; I’m sure of it. Samuel and Audrey Black.
I’ve almost never seen them fight. I’ve seen them be super awkward and distant, like two people just pretending to be married, and I’ve seen Mr. Black be over-the-top sweet and affectionate toward her, like he’s trying to prove it’s not pretend at all.
But I’ve never heard them have a knock-down, drag-out fight—which is what it sounds like this one is.
I’m a nosy bitch under ordinary circumstances, but when it involves the couple who hired my mom? The man who may have framed her for a murder he committed? I’ve got no compunctions at all about eavesdropping.
Quickly and quietly, I rise from the chair and cross the large room, pressing my ear against the wall to try to hear better. The voices come through a bit louder, but not much clearer. They’re too far away, probably hidden behind the closed door of the master bedroom.
I consider stepping out into the hall, but it’s risky. If either Samuel or Audrey decided to storm out in a fit, they could easily catch sight of me standing there. The hallway is long, but there are no nooks or crannies to hide in.
A sudden idea strikes me, and as the angry voices continue, I slip through the side door of my bedroom into the laundry room. It’s dark, unused for the moment since Bri’s entire focus is on final preparations for the party in a few hours. I close the door behind me and then creep over to the door that leads to the hallway, pulling it halfway open when I reach it.
Better.
With fewer walls between me and the fighting couple, I can make out not just the volume and tone, but more of the words being spoken too. Pressing my back to the wall just to the side of the doorframe, I close my eyes, focusing all my attention on the sounds coming to my ears.
“…was I supposed to do? Huh?”
Mr. Black’s voice sounds completely different than normal, deeper and harder. Audrey responds in a scathing tone, but her voice is higher pitched and quieter than his, and I can’t pick out any of the individual words.
Whatever she says only makes her husband more furious though, and he’s practically shouting as he responds. It sounds like he’s moving around, pacing maybe, because the words go in and out of clarity.
“Maybe if you didn’t… …in my own goddamn house! You think it makes me feel like a man to… …my own wife?”
Goddammit. I wish I could stand right outside their fucking room with my ear to the door. I’m trying to piece together meaning from the bits I’m hearing, but it’s hard without context.
“…if I could trust you!” Audrey shrieks, and then there’s a heavy thud.
My heart jumps into my throat, beating so hard and fast it’s impossible to swallow. For a second, I’m certain that he hit her, or that she hit him. But then there’s another thud, and a shattering sound, and I realize it’s from objects being thrown against a wall.
Samuel says something to her, his voice softer, a little less angry. But it doesn’t work. Something else shatters against the wall.
“You never loved me like you loved her!” she screams, and I’m suddenly extremely glad I hid in the laundry room, because the sound of the master bedroom door being yanked open and slammed shut makes me jump in surprise. If I’d been standing out in the hall, I would’ve been caught pants-down for sure.
My heart is pounding against my ribs with such force that it’s starting to drown out all other noises. Keeping myself pressed tightly to the wall, I focus on taking deep, slow breaths as I listen. Audrey storms down the stairs, her shoes tapping out a discordant rhythm on the steps.
A few minutes later, I hear Mr. Black leave the bedroom and go downstairs too. He must catch Bri as she’s passing through the foyer, because I hear him explaining to her that there’s a bit of a mess that needs cleaning up. His tone is back to its usual pleasant friendliness, and if I hadn’t just heard the screaming match, I might believe that he’d just accidentally knocked a vase off a shelf or something, instead of dodging objects thrown by his wife.
What the fuck was that about?
I rub at my chest, trying to convince my heart it can calm down now, but it doesn’t believe the lie. My fight or flight instinct is still ramped up high, and when I hear Mr. Black’s footsteps on the stairs again, I dart back into my room, closing the door behind me as softly as I can.
Then I collapse on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and replaying what I heard over and over again in my mind, trying to fill in the blanks with my best guesses.
One thing I know for sure. They were arguing about another woman. A woman Samuel loved more than his wife.
But was it Iris?
Or someone else?
13
The weirdest fucking part of the whole thing is that shortly after seven o’clock, Samuel and Audrey Black parade down the stairs looking like they’re the world’s happiest, most loving power-couple.
Lincoln came by my room at 6:30 dressed in a sleek, tailored tux, which I barely resisted ripping off his body. His room is farther away from the master suite than mine is, so I don’t know if he heard his parents’ blowup earlier. I want to ask him about it, but I decide to wait until we have more time to talk.
It’s as he’s leaving my room, stealing a few more kisses on his way out while I brush his disheveled hair back into place with my fingers, that we see his parents emerge from their suite arm-in-arm. Audrey’s got on a stunning dress made of gauzy plum-colored fabric with a high waist and what are probably real diamonds encrusting the bodice.
Mr. Black glances over and catches sight of me and Linc, and an indulgent smile crosses his lips, like it does his heart good to see young love or something.
My hands clench involuntarily, and Lincoln must feel it, because he takes both my hands in his, bringing my knuckles to his lips. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Have fun at the party.”
“You know I won’t.” He chuckles dryly.
I roll my eyes, and he steals one more kiss before walking over to join his parents at the head of the stairs. Tugging my bottom lip between my teeth, I absorb the taste of him as I watch the three of the
m descend like royalty to greet the waiting guests.
That’s the second time he’s kissed me in front of his dad, although I guess now that the cat’s out of the bag, the number of times doesn’t really matter. But it’s the first time he’s ever done it in front of his mom, and I wonder if she knew about us before this moment. Then I wonder if she cares.
I slip back into my room and shut the door. Poor Bri must be running around like a chicken with her head cut off trying to greet all the guests and coordinate the food and hired wait staff. The Blacks were lucky that me and my mom came as a package deal—two for the price of one, even though I was technically just her assistant.
The soft murmur of voices and the intermittent ringing of the doorbell fill the next few minutes. I had planned to study more, but now that it comes down to it, I really don’t have the focus for that. I’m antsy, and I’m hungry. And ever since Bri moved in, I haven’t been able to sneak over to Mom’s old apartment and scrounge through her kitchen.
Maybe I can sneak downstairs and steal some of whatever hors d’oeuvres are being served. Gwen might give me a little shit for it, but I don’t think she’ll really mind.
My stomach growls loudly at the thought, and I decide it’s worth the risk of getting busted. I doubt Mr. or Mrs. Black would care very much anyway. They’ve never really tried to restrict my movements in the house, and it’s not like they ordered me to stay upstairs during the party.
Just to be on the safe side though, I throw on a long-sleeved black dress and some black flats. It’ll make me stand out less downstairs, and it’s sort of reminiscent of the maid outfit I used to wear when I was on the clock. If any guests see me, hopefully they’ll just think I’m one of the staff.
I grab my phone, then slip out of my room and pad down the hall, peering over the railing into the grand foyer as I near the stairs. Bri is welcoming an elegantly dressed couple into the house, and although her smile shines like a megawatt bulb, I can practically see the gears grinding in her head, already focusing on the million other little things she needs to attend to.