“Neither is Spencer.”
Suzanne nods, then she takes my hand in hers, a gesture that shocks me. Her eyes are glassy - but she hasn’t had a drop to drink. “I want Spencer to be on top because I can’t bear the thought of him being crushed. The world isn’t kind to men with noble intentions.”
“It kills him to think you don’t see who he really is,” I tell her, the words catching on my emotions. “I lost my mom this year. But she died with me knowing her love was unconditional. I don’t think your son feels the same way.”
She pulls back wiping her eyes. “I hate thinking that you’re right,” she says. “That he might doubt my love.”
“So what are you going to do about that?” I ask, proud of myself for not backing away from one of the hardest conversations of my life. Most unexpected too.
“I suppose I could start with saying that I’m really glad Spencer has a woman like you in his corner.” She squeezes my hand again, and I blink back the tears that fill my eyes as I realize this is one of the hardest conversations she’s probably ever had too.
“What are you guys talking about?” Ava asks when she and Prescott run over to us, not realizing the moment had been fraught with emotions.
Suzanne stands, clasping her hands together. “We should have some lunch before you head back to Princeton, what do you think?”
Prescott grins. “I can make my famous tuna melts.”
“Gross,” Ava groans. “I want something good. No offense.”
“We could go to Salty’s Shack for clams,” Suzanne suggests. “It’s Spencer’s favorite.”
“You’d eat there, Mom?” Ava asks skeptically. “You’ve always said anything deep fried is beneath you.”
“Do we have time?” Prescott asks.
I look over at Suzanne. She’s trying. In her own way.
“I think Salty’s sounds amazing,” I say.
Ava claps. “Perfect. Grandpa always took us there as kids,” she explains to Prescott and me.
Prescott chuckles. “You do realize I spent my summers on Nantucket too, Ava? My family house is two blocks away.”
Ava laughs as we walk into the house, surprising Spencer with the restaurant choice.
He’s standing at the kitchen island with a box of photographs. “And Mom and Dad are coming?” he asks with a frown.
Suzanne examines her manicured hands. “Well I’m going, not sure about your father.”
“Where’d you find these?” Ava asks, grabbing a pile of pictures.
“In the closet, along with this treasure,” he says teasingly, presenting her with an old Monopoly box.
Ava raises her hands the moment she sees the game, her eyes wide and gleaming. “No, way, get that thing away from me.”
Geoffrey walks into the kitchen just then, and Ava backs into him. “Why in the world is that game out?” he asks, his expression relaxed for the first time since I’ve met him. “Last time it was played in this house everyone refused to speak for a week.”
I look around the kitchen, everyone is laughing, reminiscing about Ava’s refusal to sell Illinois Avenue and Suzanne’s hold on Park Place. Standing here, I see, for the first time a normal family, with inside jokes, and stories that are about things beyond image.
And I realize just how much damage Ethan’s death brought to the Becketts. It rocked them to their core, changed who they were. I don’t doubt that there were always deep roots, ties to power and money, but maybe it was about more. Maybe Spencer’s perception of his family has been clouded by his brother’s untimely death. And as we all load into the luxury SUVs to get French fries and clams, there is a knot in my stomach.
They may be making inroads in some ways, but if Spencer moves forward with the information his father gave, all of it will be for naught.
This family will be more than broken.
It will be ruined.
7
Spencer
“You survived a weekend with my family,” I say to Charlie when we’re back home, nuzzling her ear, and feeling some of the weight of the weekend fall from my shoulders.
Not all of it. I still have decisions to make. Choices that could ruin the Beckett name.
Charlie grins as she turns around in my arms. “I actually think I made some headway with your mom.”
“Really?”
“I’m not saying she likes me, but I think she knows I’m not going anywhere.”
“Damn straight, you’re not.” I pick her up, tickling her as I place her on the bed, my mouth and hands desperate for contact.
“I still have to unpack,” she says through a fit of laughter.
“It can wait until tomorrow.” I kiss her neck, my hand snaking under her shirt and finding one of her perfect breasts. “I’ll have someone pick up the laundry in the morning—”
“I can do my own laundry, Spencer.”
We’ve had this argument a few times and I’m not in a mood to rehash it. “Okay. But if you think for one second, I’m getting rid of the housekeeper—”
She laughs and pulls my face to hers, kissing me. “It’s your place, you can do what you want.”
I push myself up, holding my weight on my forearms. “It’s our place, Charlie. You live here too.”
She studies me for a long moment, and I expect an argument, but instead, she chews on her bottom lip. I can practically see the wheels spinning, but I don’t know what she’s thinking.
I tap the line that’s formed between her brows. “I know that look. Talk to me.”
“I just...” She shifts away from me, and I let her, realizing we’re about to have the talk, the one I’ve been avoiding since she moved in here after the accident. “I’m so grateful for you letting me stay, but...”
“You want to move out?” It’s what I’ve dreaded. But I know I can’t force her to stay, no matter how much I want her here.
“No.” She gives a small shake of her head. “I mean, not unless you want me to.”
“Hell, no. I want you here.” I take her hand and place it on my chest, over my heart. “I want this to be our home.”
She swallows hard. “But you still haven’t decided what you’re going to do next fall. If you move away, I need to start looking for a place—”
“This place is yours, Charlie.” I hold my breath, not knowing how she’s going to respond to what I’m about to tell her. “No matter what happens between us, you never have to leave.”
She frowns. “Is something going to happen between us?”
“Shit. No. I’m not saying this right. I just want you to feel like you’ve got something of your own...So...” I sit up and drag my hand through my hair. “Don’t freak out, but I put the condo in your name.”
“You did what?” Her eyes go wide, and she pulls back.
“The place is yours. There are a few papers for you to sign, but—”
“Spencer,” she bites out. There’s the flash anger I expected. “I can’t—”
“Before you go off on me, listen. I know what you’re going to say.”
“Then you know I don’t want this.” She crosses her arms. “That I don’t need you buying me things, or...houses...God, Spencer.” Her arms lift in exasperation and she starts to get off the bed, but I grab her hand.
“Don’t be upset.” I twine my fingers with hers, gently pulling her back to my side. “I just...” Shit, I don’t know how to explain why I need her to have this place. I’m not even sure I know why myself. “I just need to know you’re taken care of. And before you start in on how you can take care of yourself, I know that.”
“It feels like you’re giving it to me in case we break up.”
“God, no. That’s not why.” I cup her jaw, willing her to understand my heart. “I wanted to give you something, a piece of me, something we can share...I want you here, in my bed, in our bed...I’m screwing this all up.”
“So giving me this place is your way of asking me to move in with you permanently?” She’s smirking at me now, and
her anger is gone. Thank god.
I breathe out a sigh. “Yes. And I’m starting to think it wasn’t the best way to do it.”
She laughs. “No, a key in a little box with a red bow would have worked much better.” She straddles my waist and her arms go around my neck. “So ask me.”
I nip at her chin. “Is that a yes?”
“I don’t know, depends on the question.”
“You’re a brat, you know that?”
Her fingers are in my hair, and she smiles down at me with desire, and lust, and love. “I’m still waiting.”
“Fine.” I grin. “Charlotte Hayes, will you please move in with me?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, then chuckles. “I recently acquired this gorgeous two-story condo, maybe you should move in with me.”
I swat her ass and laugh. “Nothing would make me happier.”
Her mouth crashes down on mine, and my chest swells with the love that emanates from her.
“God, I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Her voice is full of excitement. But I am so relieved to know she feels it’s the right thing for her too.
After everything that’s happened, all the trials and losses, we’re together, and maybe even stronger from it. Nothing will come between us again.
“Love you, Charlie,” I say, loving the way the words feel on my tongue, how they make my chest constrict with emotions and gratitude.
She kisses me, but our moment is interrupted when both our phones start buzzing at the same time.
I frown as we both reach for the devices. But it’s anger and fear that turns my insides to liquid fire when I open my messages and scroll through the link that Prescott sent.
Prescott: I’m already working to get it taken down, but I thought you should see it if you haven’t already. Don’t worry the fucker will pay for this.
“Oh my god,” Charlie says quietly beside me, and I know she’s been sent the same link.
It’s another blog, this one titled Cinderella or Skankarella? How to bag (pun intended) your very own prince. There are photos, but it’s the video that has my heart beating wildly in my chest, praying it’s not what I think it is.
Charlie has already clicked on it, and the sound of her moans come from the small speaker and my own voice as I fuck her slightly distorted from the choppy video.
“Fuck. I’m going to kill the bastard...” I take her phone from her hands, and turn it off, but not before getting a good glimpse of the room we were in - our bedroom in Nantucket.
Someone recorded us while we were there on the weekend.
“Who...who would do this?” Charlie asks the question we’ve been asking for months. And I still have no answers for her.
She’s shaking violently when I pull her against me. I can’t even tell her it’s going to be alright, because nothing is all right about it.
What the actual fuck?
But my question is no longer who the hell would do this, but who the fuck had access to that bedroom.
8
Charlie
I can’t stop shaking and my hands feel like they’ve gone numb, my lips too.
Spencer is shouting at someone on the phone, but my thoughts keep replaying the video of Spencer and me over and over again.
“Just get the fucking video taken down,” Spencer yells before hanging up and tossing his phone across the room. It hits the wall, and I jump slightly at the sound. I know I should be just as angry, but I feel...violated. Dirty.
How many people have already watched the video? Even if it gets taken down, the damage is already done. And it’s not just my own reputation, it’s also Spencer’s. The sex tape could ruin his chances at a political career in the future.
And we’re still no closer to finding the person responsible.
But something presses at the base of my skull, like some important fact that I’m missing.
“I want to see it again,” I whisper.
“What?” Spencer stops his pacing and looks over at me.
“Give me my phone. There was something I missed.”
Spencer frowns and hesitates before pulling out my phone from his back pocket.
I scroll past the video and study the pictures that were posted beneath it. One catches my eye, and I stop, staring at it, knowing there’s a clue in it.
It’s a photo of Spencer and me on Valentine’s day, we’re inside the old record shop our heads close together, obviously deep in conversation.
“What is it?” Spencer asks, sitting beside me.
“I don’t know. I just...” And then I see it, the reflection in the glass. I magnify the picture and suck in a small breath when I see the distorted, but familiar face. It’s unfocused, but there’s no doubt who it is. “Winslow.”
Spencer grabs my phone from my hands, anger blistering off him. “Christ. What the actual fuck?”
Part of me doesn’t believe it. But there’s no doubt that it’s her in the photo. The blonde hair, the red Burberry jacket with the silver pendant she always wears. “It’s her. She’s the one who took the photos...who recorded us.”
There’s not even a moment of hesitation from Spencer, he’s back on the phone, ordering someone to blow the photo up. Then he’s calling his parents, demanding who had access to the Nantucket house before we arrived. After his mother confirms that Winslow and her parents had stopped by the weekend before, Spencer looks like he’s about to lose his mind.
“I should have known it was her.” He’s pacing again, his face bright red, and if we were in one of those old cartoons, there’d be smoke coming out of his ears.
“She may have been responsible for the blog, but she wasn’t driving the Taurus that night,” I say. “It was a man. I’m sure of that.”
“Yeah, maybe. But she can’t get away with this.” Spencer shakes his head, looking as overwhelmed as I feel. “I’ll deal with her.”
I thought I’d feel relieved when I found out who was responsible, but I just feel...raw.
“It has to be me,” I say. “I need to confront her.”
“No.” Spencer’s nostrils flare. “I don’t want you anywhere near her. She’s insane...” He takes a deep breath, then growls out, “When I’m done with that bitch...” He inhales through his nose and I swear he’s going to crack his teeth with how tight he clenches his jaw. “I’m going to ruin her.”
“Spencer.” I stand and place my hand on his arm, feeling oddly calm. “I need to do this. If it’s you, she’ll always think that I’m weak, that she can walk all over me.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking you.”
“I promised to protect you.” He drags both hands through his hair, making it stand on end. “This is my fault. I should have realized what a spiteful, toxic—”
“It’s not your fault.” I lean up and kiss his cheek.
“God, how can you be so calm right now?”
“Trust me, I’m as angry as you are. But I have a plan. We can’t erase what she did, but we can make sure she knows never to mess with me again.”
* * *
The Ivy is packed when we walk through the doors. Heads turn and the whispers and laughs start. I was ready for this, but I’m grateful for Spencer’s hand that rests on my lower back, fueling me with strength.
I can do this.
I’m not a fighter. I’ve never thrown a real punch in my life. And I’m not going to start now, no matter how much the woman deserves it.
But I’m also not going to let Winslow Harrington have the last word. Not when her choices violated every girl code ever created.
“You sure you want to do this?” Spencer leans down and asks against my ear.
I nod, pulling out my phone and setting it to record. I want to pick up every single word Winslow mutters as she tries to dig herself out of the hole she dug with her own two backstabbing hands.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
At least that’s what I think before I enter the lounge where membe
rs of the elite club are hanging out. Yates, Prescott, and Connery lift their hands in greeting when they see us, but Spencer just nods and keeps walking straight ahead.
“I got this Spencer, go talk to your friends,” I say. I love him, but I need to deal with this on my own. “I want to fight my own battle this time.”
“You can’t trust her,” he warns.
“I know that.”
“I’ll be right over there,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “If you need me.”
I walk to the far corner where Winslow is holding court. She has a glass of champagne in hand and is talking with a group of women. Georgia is with her. My stomach rolls. Is Georgia in on this too?
But when Georgia sees me, she waves me over, her smile genuine.
It’s now or never.
Georgia stands, giving me a hug. “Hey sweetie, it’s been a few days. How are you?”
Obviously she hasn’t seen the blog or the video. Thank god, I’d thought the whole school would have seen it by now.
Winslow snorts, blue eyes scanning me, a look of disgust pulling her lips up and distorting her pretty face. “Are you serious? You’re like friends or something?”
Georgia bites her bottom lip, shrugging and I realize she hasn’t told Winslow that we’ve been hanging out at all, going on double dates, and getting to know one another. She’s terrified of her and for good reason.
“Actually, yeah,” Georgia says, looking between us, and I see when she makes the choice to stand up for herself. She straightens and her chin lifts. “Yates and Spence go way back, and we’ve all been—”
Winslow cuts her off. “We go way back too.”
“I know, but Winnie…” Georgia lowers her voice and I stand there fuming, waiting to strike, ready to expose her for the vicious viper she is. “But, it’s not like she did anything to you. I don’t know why you have to be so...mean.”
Winslow glares at Georgia. “Are you fucking stupid? This slut stole Spencer from me.”
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