Throne of Lies: Prequel to Legacy of Lies

by Leigh, Tara

  I shook my head, hoping he was exaggerating. “Tripp, come on. It can’t be that—”

  “It might not be as bad as what the reporter is alleging, but if there’s anything I’ve learned from working all those afternoons and summers in the office, and from the economics and political policy classes I’ve taken, it’s this: Reality is irrelevant. All that matters is perception. Whether it’s true or not,” he picked up the paper and waved the headline at me, “this is our new reality.”

  Rumors at school, I could deal with. But my father branded a criminal? That was too much to absorb. I was desperate to cling to yesterday’s reality. “But if it’s not the truth, then how can it matter?”

  “Tomorrow morning, every client of MC Partners will pull their account. Without clients, they won’t have access to credit. Even if there were no problems, come tomorrow, there will only be problems.”

  I concentrated on taking deep breaths, trying to think with a clear head. “So they’ll build a new company. They’ve had twenty years of success, if they want to retire and enjoy the rest of their lives, they can. And if not, they’ll start over and build something even better.”

  Tripp looked at me with sad, defeated eyes. This time, he was the one shaking his head. “No. Not in this town. A failure like this, a company as big as theirs? Even if they don’t go to jail, no one will ever give them a second chance.” The laugh that escaped his mouth was a bitter cackle. “And my name will be as dirty as my father’s.”

  Jail. I deliberately ignored the ugly word. “No one will blame you for what your father did,” I insisted.

  “You don’t know that,” he denied, the words a low grumble.

  I fought against his dire prediction, trying to shed light on the looming darkness. “Maybe not. But I know you. You’re smart and determined and you’re not a quitter.” In that moment, he looked so much like his father, but in a good way. Serious and proud, without the bluster and arrogance the older man had acquired over the years. “And I also know that our fathers built that company together. They’ve given their whole lives over to it. They won’t go down without a fight, Tripp. I just can’t believe that the situation is as bad as you think it is. I really can’t.”

  Just this once, let perception be worse than reality.

  10

  December 2007

  Tripp

  “They’re saying that our fathers stole millions.” I paused, swallowing heavily before correcting myself. “No, hundreds of millions. And that their entire company is built on lies and greed.” I could hear the anger in my voice. It was spread thin, across several targets. My father. The reporter who must have gotten the story wrong, or at least exaggerated it. The entire culture of Wall Street, where risk was rewarded and you were only as good as your last trade.

  I’d been to my father’s office a thousand times over the years, probably more. The trading floor was real. MC Partners wasn’t huge by big-bank standards, but they leased several floors of one of the nicest buildings downtown and recruited employees from Ivy League schools.

  How could it all be a lie?

  Pale and quiet, Jolie clutched her laptop to her chest as if it could possibly shield her from the barbs I was throwing her way.

  I tossed the paper back on the table, headline facing down, and moved to sit beside her. She turned to me, wide blue eyes glistening, her fears running down the same dark alley as mine. “But how can that be? Whoever wrote that must not have been to their office. Can’t they just go down there and see for themselves? We need to show them, Tripp. Show them that it’s real.”

  I pried the laptop from her grasp and entwined my hands with hers. “The article said he had.”

  “But that makes no sense. How could anyone have gone there and still believe it’s a sham? He must be mistaken.” One by one, tears began to slide down Jolie’s cheeks, dripping off her thick black lashes and vaulting onto high cheekbones, streaking her perfect, porcelain skin.

  I gathered her in my arms. “There has to be some kind of explanation. Our fathers aren’t criminals.” The word tasted sharp and acidic on my tongue. Even so, I wish I’d swallowed it instead of saying it aloud, where it hung on the air of the empty room, echoing inside my ears.

  Jolie nodded, leaning into me and wiping at her face with trembling hands. I grabbed at the pocket square that had been tucked inside my tux, and she took it with a mumbled word of thanks.

  Dropping a kiss on top of Jolie’s head, I breathed in the scent of her hair. Apples and some kind of flower I couldn’t name. “They’ll figure it out, I’m sure of it.” Even as I said the words, I doubted them. I wasn’t sure of anything but my feelings for the girl in my arms.

  I loved her.

  I just didn’t realize I’d actually said it aloud until I felt her stiffen in my arms and pull away gently.

  “You don’t have to say that, you know. I don’t regret what we did last night.” Her voice was hesitant and husky.

  I tipped Jolie’s chin up and kissed her gently on lips still full and puffy from hours of kissing last night and this morning. “It’s the truth. I love you, Jolie Chapman.”

  The next five seconds of silence felt like the longest in my life. Our faces were barely an inch apart, and her breath was sweet and minty on my mouth. I could see a few pale freckles, the tiniest of cinnamon sprinkles, scattered across the bridge of her nose. Little remnants of childhood that would be completely gone in another year or two.

  By taking Jolie’s virginity, I’d erased one of those last links myself.

  It was a strange feeling, to look at her now and know what I’d done. Almost as if I’d smoked a cigarette in heaven. A guilty pleasure, but pollution nonetheless.

  If Jolie didn’t feel the same way for me, she might not regret what we’d done yet, but one day she would. The thought was agonizing.

  “Hey.” Feeling her light caress on my cheek, I refocused my gaze on Jolie’s face, seeing the concern etched into her features. “Where’d you go?”

  I pushed the anxious speculation away. “Sorry.”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  I blinked. “No.”

  A faint giggle trickled from her mouth. “Good, because that would have been a terrible response.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That I love you, too. I think a part of me fell for you the second I saw you at that dumb Bachelor Brunch. You acted like you hadn’t been dragged there, like we were in it together. A team. And the way you did just enough to humor our parents, without the slightest bit more.” She shrugged. “You’re only two years older than me, but it’s like you already have everything figured out. It’s . . .” she ducked her head, a flush creeping into her cheeks, “appealing.”

  The tension of the past hour drained out of me, leaving me almost giddy. “We were in it together. And we got out of it together, too. Just like we’ll get out of this mess.”

  She lifted her head, her features arranged in a solemn expression. “Promise?”

  “Promise. Whatever happens, we’re in it together.”

  She blinked once, then nodded. “I don’t know what I’d be doing right now if it weren’t for you.”

  Sliding an arm beneath Jolie’s legs, I dragged them over mine and then curled my hand around the back of her neck, my fingers plunging into the thick mass of hair at her scalp. “Probably not this,” I mumbled, pulling her toward me. She opened her mouth on a sigh, that minty sweet tongue of hers sliding over mine. I kissed the breath out of her, giving her air as she took mine. Such a heady feeling. I’d kissed plenty of girls before, but none had ever tasted as good as Jolie Chapman. Her palms slid up my chest, narrow thumbs fitting against my neck, my pulse racing beneath them.

  I wanted to undress her, take her right here on the living room couch. “Jolie.” I pulled away, her name a groan.

  She slid off my lap, tugging at my hand. “Come on.”

  I didn’t necessarily want Jolie’s parents to come home and find us in her bed
room—but walking in on us making out in their living room was hardly a better option. I followed her up the stairs and into a bedroom decked out in a dozen shades of pink. Pink walls, pink carpet, pink curtains. And a pink canopy bed with two dozen pink pillows on it. Without hesitation, Jolie led me straight to it. It wasn’t until we were naked that I realized I didn’t have any condoms left. We’d used them both last night.

  My gut twisted with disappointment. “We can’t . . .” I broke off to kiss her again, with regret this time.

  Jolie’s eyes were glazed over. “We can’t?”

  “Not unless you have . . .”

  Understanding dawned and she shook her head. “Can’t you just,” she blushed, “you know.”

  I knew what she was asking. Bracing myself on my forearms, my dick was throbbing between her thighs. “Are you sure?” I wasn’t worried about an STD from Jolie. And I’d never had sex without a condom before. “I’m clean,” I said.

  “Me, too.” Her legs edged further apart, the invitation obvious. An invitation I wasn’t strong enough to resist. I lowered my hips, centering myself over her, dragging just the crown through her center, her warmth as insistent and yielding as quicksand.

  Jolie arched her back, a moan shuddering from her open mouth.

  I sank a little deeper, gritting my teeth. There was no such thing as bad sex, but sex with Jolie, without anything between us . . . Nothing on earth should feel this good. Pleasure sparked, blazing a path across my skin. Burning so hard I had no doubt it would leave scars. I’d be marked by Jolie forever.

  Not that I minded.

  Her nails dug into my shoulders, her deep blue gaze locking onto my face. Trust and temptation swirling inside those eyes. So damn beautiful. So fucking irresistible.

  I slid all the way home, my heart lurching from an impact that went beyond physical.

  Beneath me, Jolie squeaked, and I edged back. “You okay?”

  She blinked, a determined smile trembling on her pouty lips. “I will be. Keep going.”

  Shit. She had to be sore. I dipped my head, finding a sweet spot, just between Jolie’s collarbone and neck, letting my teeth graze her delicate skin as I slowly drew out. Jolie arched her back, a strangled groan slipping from her lips, her thighs tightening around me.

  I nibbled along her racing pulse, dragging the plump flesh of her earlobe into my mouth and sucking gently. Another sound, this one low and needy, filled the air between us.

  I shifted my weight back onto my knees, lifting up to glance at Jolie’s face again. She was flushed, her eyes glassy and so dark they were practically navy. “Please,” she whispered, her ankles entwined at the lowest part of my back, heels pressing into the muscles of my ass. Damn, this girl stole my breath.

  I rocked back inside her, slow and deep. Her chin lifted, a gasp dragging oxygen into her mouth, her chest swelling, breasts pushing into me. I shifted my arms, sliding my hands beneath her back and curling my fingers around her shoulders. Holding her tightly as I pulled out again, pushed back in. Setting a rhythm based on Jolie’s frantic breaths, on the muscles twitching and clenching in the deepest part of her.

  Timing would be everything. I’d be damned if I came before Jolie did, but pulling out of her just before I exploded was going to be the ultimate test of self-control.

  It would take every ounce of concentration I had not to let go. Not to lose myself in this girl, in this moment. She was sunshine and sin all wrapped up in one perfect package. A package that was trembling beneath me, like a box of fireworks left near an open flame. And I was holding the fuse in my hands.

  “Jolie,” I groaned her name through bared lips, the sight of her coming apart the eighth wonder of the world.

  “Tripp, I—” Her breath caught, eyes flying open in a look of surprise. All this was so new to her. I fucking loved it. Loved that we were sharing this together. Loved her.

  “Let go, baby,” I urged, pleasure coiling deep inside my belly, sending tremors and tingles racing along my skin.

  “I . . . I . . .” Jolie breathed out as if grasping for words. There was a wild look on her face, like she didn’t know if she should hide or give chase. I reached between us, to the place we were fused, finding that swollen nub and rolling a finger over it.

  That was all she needed to tumble over the edge. Jolie screamed my name, her nails digging into the back of my neck as my hips snapped against hers.

  As her cry faded away, I felt a sharp release, like the opening bell announcing a frenzy of chaos. I jerked back, just in time. Throbbing on Jolie’s stomach, I lowered my forehead to hers, relieved that I’d managed to keep myself in check. That I hadn’t broken my promise.

  I never wanted to do anything to betray Jolie’s trust in me. Ever.

  I started to get up, looking for a towel or something to clean up the mess I’d left on her flawless skin. Before I could put a foot on the floor, she grabbed my wrist with one hand and a small square pillow with the other, just one of the army that had topped her four poster bed. “I never really liked this one anyway.”

  “I was going to get a—”

  “I know. But if you got out of bed, you’d probably wind up getting dressed.” Her lips formed an irresistible pout. “Stay with me.”

  “What if Nina and your dad come home?”

  “Please,” she gave another tug. “Just a little while longer.”

  I relented. I couldn’t have said no to anything Jolie asked of me right then. Her glossy hair was scattered on the pillow and sheets, framing her glowing, sex-drunk face. A beautiful angel begging me to stay. “Just for a little while.”

  I settled back down on the mattress, sliding my arm beneath Jolie’s neck and running my fingers through her hair. She turned to me, nestling her forehead in the well between my shoulder and neck, her shallow breaths skating over my bare chest. A groan slipped free as one of her legs straddled my thigh, the sole of her foot rubbing the inside of my calf. “Jolie, if you keep doing that, I’m not going to be able to just lie here next to you.”

  She gave a low, sleepy laugh that had my heart sputtering. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

  Her eyelids fluttered closed, leaving butterfly kisses on my neck. I sighed. Neither of us had gotten much sleep last night, an hour or two at the very most. Reading that headline had been a shot of adrenaline, but within the cozy cocoon of Jolie’s bedroom, it was fading fast.

  Remembering my phone that was still charging downstairs, I knew everything would still be waiting for us after we got some sleep. I hadn’t checked any of the calls or messages I’d received. I’d only had the iPhone a few days and was still getting the hang of it. It was definitely different than the Blackberry I’d had before. As Jolie’s breaths deepened, I gave myself a few minutes before I needed to slip out of her bed and get dressed. I’d leave a note and go downstairs, collect my phone, then head back to my parent’s apartment. For all I knew, they were there, and wondering where I was.

  I’d just lay here for a few more minutes, that was all. Just a few more minutes . . .

  A sharp scream jolted me awake before I realized that I’d fallen asleep. I shot upright, hindered slightly by Jolie’s head on my shoulder, and looked for the source of the noise. Straight into Nina’s outraged face.

  Wide awake in an instant, I glanced back down at Jolie, who was rubbing her own eyes but had yet to open them.

  “Jolie Marie Chapman,” Nina screeched, obviously not willing to wait for her stepdaughter to wake up on her own timetable.

  That did it though. With her stretched out against me, I could feel every muscle in Jolie’s body contract like a deer at the first sound of a hunter’s rifle. “Nina. Where’s Dad? What happened? We saw the paper. How is—”

  Nina looked at me like I was dirt at the bottom of her shoe, then shifted her glare to Jolie. “You’re lucky your father isn’t here to see this. And you,” she pointed a trembling finger at me, “get dressed and get home. I can’t even look at you right now.”

 
She turned, leaving Jolie’s door open as she stalked off down the hall and slammed her own. Jolie turned to me, her face stricken. “You were right. This is bad, Tripp. Really bad.”

  11

  December 2007

  Jolie

  After Tripp left, I got dressed and washed my face, combing my hair and pulling it back into a neat ponytail before leaving my room. Steeling myself for an angry lecture and a long grounding, I tapped gently on the door to the bedroom Nina and my father shared. I was beyond embarrassed, and guilt pressed heavily on my shoulders for making an already awful morning even worse. No parent, or step-parent, should have to see their high-school aged daughter in bed with a boy. Naked. Ever.

  I had whiplash from the high of last night to the low of this morning's headline. From falling asleep in Tripp's arms and waking up to Nina's outrage. Life shouldn't move this fast.

  At Nina's muffled, “come in,” I gently pushed open the door.

  “Good morning," I began, intending to grovel until I lost my voice.

  She was sitting on a kidney-shaped loveseat positioned at the foot of their bed, which was still made up perfectly, as if it hadn't been slept in at all. Nina, on the other hand, looked as if she'd braved a hurricane in her ball gown. "There's nothing good about this morning, Jolie," she said, wiping at her nose with the back of her wrist and looking at me through mascara-smudged eyes. Her voice was so flat, it didn't sound like it belonged to her.

  “You're right, and I'm sorry about—”

  She waved away my apology. “Jolie, right now I can't even think about you and that Montgomery boy.” The last two words were said with such hate, I felt the vibration in my bones.

  I crossed the room slowly, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet, and dropped to my knees in front of her. Just yesterday she’d been thrilled Tripp and I were dating. “What's going on, Nina? I don't understand.”