by Vivian Wood
“What do you even do for a living?”
The question takes him by surprise. He looks at me with a frown. “I’m about to start working as a college professor.”
My brows fly up. “Really?”
Carter looks mildly offended. “Yes, really. I have my phD in biology.”
“Shit. And here I was, just assuming that you dressed like that because you’re a complete fucking tool. Turns out, you’re a geek.” I squint into the trees. “Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re not a tool too. That would make you a geek-tool hybrid.”
He rolls his eyes. “I bet you didn’t even go to college.”
I scrunch up my face. “Nope. I went into the Navy instead. While you were pushing papers, I was already in the real world, dodging actual bullets.”
He pauses for a second, absorbing that information. “I see.”
I shake my head, a humorless huff of laughter leaving me. “I bet you do.”
The next thing he says is unexpected, though. “Thank you for your service.”
I slow, looking at him uncertainly. “Are you fucking making a joke right now?”
He shakes his head, somber as sin. “Nope.”
“Oh.” I mull that over for a second. It’s not my favorite thing, having civilians say that. It usually seems pretty fake and superficial. But right here, right now, it seems okay. “You’re welcome, I guess.”
“My dad was in the service. The Marines, I think.”
I want to stop in my tracks. I want to ask for more information. But as we leave the party behind, the house looming large in the nighttime, I don't quite know what to say to that.
“Do you happen to know what unit he was in?” I say, trying to keep my tone light.
Carter glances at me, his uncertainty clear. “I don't know. All I know is that he won some awards for valor. That was all when I was a little kid, though.”
We’re both quiet for a few beats as we begin walking through the woods once more, down the path that leads to the staff quarters. I’m thinking of how much I would love to know more, to see if I really was closer to my dad than I’d ever thought. “Didn’t your family always have money?”
Even in the darkness, I can see Carter’s smile. “Yeah. My dad didn’t go for that reason. He went into the military because he thought he could piss off my grandad. As it turned out, it worked really well. I didn’t really even grow up around here until I was about five. It was sort of a shock, realizing that I was from money.”
My lips twist at that. “I’ll bet.”
He glances at me, his expression curious. He’s probably wondering whether I came out of poverty as a child. Let him wonder, I figure.
We step out of the woods, the staff quarters standing in silhouette. It’s only then that I realize that I completely forgot about Olivia. I was so caught up in fishing for info about my father, I sort of let everything else slide away.
“Later,” I say gruffly. Carter seems not to notice; he is making a beeline for Olivia’s apartment.
I suddenly realize that Olivia could not only ruin my relationship with Grayson, she has the power to ruin anything I hope to have with Carter too. Though I doubt that she’ll go back on her word, it still gives me a reason to sweat.
I see Carter banging on her door for a second before I push through the door to my own apartment. Feeling a little nauseated, I head straight for the record player. After dithering for a minute, I put on James Brown, nice and low. As he croons to me about what a man’s world is for, I drop my shoes and help myself to a glass of whiskey.
I can hear faint voices over the song that’s playing. I swallow and turn the record player up, wishing I was different than I am.
25
Olivia
Boys are stupid. Aiden is no exception. That’s what I’ve determined in the days following my deflowering.
Almost a week passes after Aiden and I have sex.
His words keep ringing through my head like the tolling of a bell.
I just want to make sure it’s going to be a secret between the two of us. It was a one-time thing…
His request — to keep the fact that we had sex a secret — really stings in a way I don't quite understand. Naturally I would keep something like that quiet. It’s a personal thing, just between Aiden and me.
But the fact that he felt the need to ask… that makes the pit of my stomach as bitter as bile.
I’m not particularly interested in seeing his handsome face, so I bury myself in work. Margaret comes home from the hospital, albeit with a twenty-four-hour nurse. Carter is also glued to her side, making space for himself in one of the spare bedrooms on the second floor.
I spend ten hours a day engrossed in my work. I’ve moved on from cataloging to digitizing, scanning each piece of paper and every page of each book into a specialized digital scanner. It’s kind of mind numbing, the process of scanning every piece of paper and then transferring it to a special kind of plastic casing. When I’m done with about a hundred documents, I carefully stack their casings together and store them in an acid-free box.
Now the tide has turned, so to speak. Where once there were huge stacks of paper, now there are less-huge stacks of boxes, neatly labeled with the years of the documents within. The only issue is where to put them all.
I hate the idea of stacking them downstairs in the now-clean library. I want people to be able to enjoy the library, the wood gleaming from its most recent polish with lemon-scented wax.
Heading down the staircase from the second floor to the first, I turn the issue over in my mind. There are so many rooms here, filled with unused objects. Surely no one would mind if I made space in one of the many bedrooms?
I should ask Margaret. Or Carter, if she’s not feeling up to making decisions.
When I make it downstairs, I head to the front parlor. The French doors are closed, giving me pause. Does that mean Margaret has fallen asleep in here?
Knocking very lightly, I’m surprised when Carter pulls one of the doors open right away. There is a cautious expression on his face.
“Olivia,” he intones.
A high-pitched woman’s voice instructs him from behind the door. “Don’t be rude, darling. Open the door all the way, let us all have a peek.”
Carter groans a little but pushes the door open more fully. I peer inside, finding Margaret napping in the corner, slumped with a pillow stuck under her head. Surrounding her are a couple of her older nieces that I met the other day, looking haughty as ever. One woman leans closer to me, her dark red lipstick matching her pantsuit exactly. Her dark hair gleams, especially set against her heavy gold earrings. To my surprise, she appears Middle Eastern.
I look between her and Carter, only then putting it together. Of course she’s his mom. I don't know why I automatically assumed that she would be white. She sees my distress and smiles knowingly.
“Mother,” Carter says. “This is Olivia. She’s doing some work on the family archives. Olivia, this is my mother Sandrene Morgan.”
The older woman reaches out a hand to me from half a dozen paces away, holding it aloft to be greeted. As I scramble to take it, I can’t help but notice the gigantic diamond ring she is still wearing. When I grasp her hand, it is cool to the touch.
Sandra pins me with her dark gaze.
“Call me Sandra, Charmed, I’m certain,” she says. Her accent is Persian, maybe… Her lipstick gleams; it is nothing if not enthralling.
“It’s a pleasure, ma’am.” I curtsy, even though I’m sure that’s not the appropriate greeting.
She smiles ruefully. “So Aunt Margaret has been paying you to… do what, exactly?”
“Mother,” Carter warns. “This is not an interrogation.”
“What?” Sandra says playfully. “I’m sure Olivia can tell us about all the work she’s been doing. Isn’t that right, dear?”
My cheeks heat a little. I definitely don't understand what kind of family dynamic I’ve walked in on, but I do und
erstand that I am being put on the spot. Clearing my throat, I smile.
“It’s okay. I have been really busy. I’ve manually catalogued the files I was given, and scanned most of them. Then comes the digital catalogue. I actually came down here to ask if I can move the file boxes I’ve accumulated into one of the spare bedrooms.”
Carter looks impressed. His mother just looks vaguely suspicious.
One of the nieces leans forward. “How much longer do you think the entire process will take?”
I go red. Her tone says that she is ready to get rid of me, like I might be taking advantage of the family or something. Carter comes to my rescue again, though.
“She’s been hired to work this whole summer, Aunt Emily.” He levels a smile at me. “They really are pleasant to be around when you only know them socially, I swear.”
Margaret starts awake, startling everyone. She opens her eyes. “Oh.” She blinks, focusing on the people in the room for a moment. “Oh Olivia, there you are.”
“Here I am,” I say, smiling a little.
“Did they tell you what we have planned?” she asks, stifling a yawn.
“Err.” I glance at Carter, who rolls his eyes. “No.”
“You’ll like this.” She shifts, grimacing for a moment. “Aiden has done the bulk of the repairs needing immediate attention. We’re celebrating by throwing a lavish costume ball, just like we used to do in the days before the decline of the estate.”
My eyebrows go up. That sounds like a ton of work, and not just for me.
“Yes. My original location for the charity ball fell through at the last minute,” Sandra cuts in. “So I thought why not have it here instead of canceling? Those poor children—”
“It’s to benefit the Humane Society,” Emily interrupts. Sandra shoots her a sour look.
“Yes, well. We can’t be expected to remember every single creature that we help, can we?”
God, she’s stuck up. And that’s only what I can observe from spending five minutes with her. It’s no wonder that Carter turned out to be a little snooty. Actually, with a mother like that, it’s a small mercy that he didn’t turn into a complete monster.
I glance at Carter. “Have you told Aiden yet?”
He smiles wryly. “No. I imagine that there isn’t much he’ll be able to say, though.”
If it weren’t for everyone else in the room, I would actually chuckle right in his face. Aiden is upset easily, to say the least. I keep it to myself for the time being though, considering the company.
I clear my throat, turning back to Margaret. “I’m sure it will be wonderful, Margaret. If you all will excuse me, I have a lot of file boxes to transfer.”
“You should ask Aiden for help with that,” Carter says. “Seriously, he’s supposed to be doing the bulk of the actual lifting and stuff for you.”
I don't want his help. Seriously, I never want his help with anything, ever again. Carter doesn’t know that, so I just smile. “Okay. That sounds great.”
His eyes narrow a little on my face. I guess I didn’t convince him. But in the next moment, I’m out the door anyway. Faced with a choice between going back upstairs or going out the front door, I choose the latter.
I like Carter and Margaret well enough, but their family just puts a bad taste in my mouth. The Morgans I’ve met so far have really been a mixed bag, that’s for sure.
Well… except Aiden.
With a pang, I realize that he is the Morgan that I’m the closest with. I mean, I assume he is.
Sighing, I head back toward the staff apartments. When I get there though, Aiden is nowhere to be found. Frowning, I take off back into the woods, following the narrow trail. I hear footsteps a second before I see Aiden, shirtless and soaked, his dark swimming trunks the only clothes he’s wearing.
I see him a second before he sees me. My gaze is drawn down to a few stray droplets of water that run down his washboard abs, trickling toward where his low slung trunks meet his stomach. The hard vee of muscle at his hips is completely visible, making me swallow uncomfortably.
He is ridiculously hot. It’s not fair to the rest of us mere mortals every single time he decides to take his shirt off.
I glance up, meeting his gaze. His eyes seem to see right through me as he approaches. I lift my head as he comes near.
“Hey,” I say. It comes out flat, not cool and casual as I intended for it to sound.
A ghost of a smile traces over his lips. “Hey.”
“I just saw Margaret,” I say, pointing toward the main house.
He stops walking. “Yeah? She’s doing okay?”
“Yes. Well enough to throw a big costume ball here, I guess. Or to let Carter’s mom throw one.”
He arches an eyebrow. I catch myself looking at his chest again, at the random smattering of dark freckles on his skin. Dragging my eyes back to his face, I see him giving me the very same once over.
Blushing, I feel a little better about how impressed I still am by his body. You’d think I would’ve gotten enough, but apparently not.
“When?” he asks.
I’m distracted. “What?”
He narrows his eyes. “When is this costume ball supposed to be?”
“I… I don't think I found out. Soon, I think.” My cheeks are sure to catch fire here in a second.
“Hmm.” He looks at me thoughtfully. “Are you… you know, doing okay?”
My brows rise a bit. It’s too little and too late, but I guess I am glad that he has some kind of empathy. After all, he did take my virginity less than a week ago.
Shifting uncomfortably, I look down. “I’m fine.”
He rubs his neck. “I should have… I mean… I wish I could take back what I said. I would say it differently if given the chance.”
When I look up, I find myself speared by his dark gaze. I’m a little short of breath suddenly. “You would still say it, though.”
“And mean it too. I mean… you are my best friend’s little sister. And I really fucked up this time. I shouldn’t have ever touched you.” He pauses, just in time for my heart to falter. He still sees me as Grayson’s sister, not as my own separate person with my own needs and desires.
I thought that he saw me. Actually me, not his friend’s sister.
How stupid was that?
I draw in a ragged breath. “I’m more than what you’re giving me credit for. You know that, right?”
His lips twist in a humorless smile. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I really am.”
I want to hit him. I want to yell that I am not interested in his apologies. But I don't.
Instead, I walk up to him, pressing myself against his chest. I look up at him for a heartbeat, then push onto my tiptoes. My lips meet his, hot and quick.
Then I pull away, looking him in the eye. “I just want you to realize what you’re giving up.”
Heart hammering in my chest, I turn and walk away, not even able to believe that I just did that.
26
Aiden
I am a bad man.
Petty, jealous, deceitful.
But every time I look at Olivia, I forget that for a second. Instead of focusing on the lifetime of bullshit I’ve done, all I can remember is how she made me feel when we were together.
Her soft moans of pleasure.
The look in her eyes when I finally stripped her completely bare.
The way I felt when I was inside her. Like I could do anything and be anyone, as long as she stayed by my side.
Of course I immediately fucked up everything between us. I opened my fucking mouth and basically spit on Olivia. That wasn’t my intention, of course. But it came out that way none the same.
This whole week has been insane. I’ve been running around, instructing the staff that have been hired on to help me temporarily. Paint the ballroom, deep clean all the floors in the main house, make the lawn look better, add gravel to the driveway.
But every time I catch a glimpse of Olivia, my heart stutters.
I lose focus on whatever I’m supposed to be working on. I think it’s fair to say that I have become a little bit obsessed.
Who knew that fucking her one time would render me so… useless? It’s never happened before. Then again, I usually don't even know the first name of the girl I’m sleeping with.
Is that the only difference?
I’d try to replicate it, but Olivia is literally the only girl I’ve known for a long time. Well… I guess I’ve known Grayson’s ex Rachel for years, but she isn’t even approachable. The only way that I could make Grayson hate me more than fucking Olivia would be to try to fuck Rachel.
I shake my head. I really screwed up this time, both with the girl I’m obsessing about and my own best friend. Grayson can’t find out, that much is obvious.
But that doesn’t stop me from craving more of Olivia. I’m not sure that anything could.
Lost in my thoughts, trying to keep up with the hectic pace of work, the masquerade ball sort of sneaks up on me. One minute I am up on a ladder, painting a high spot on the ballroom’s ceiling. The next I’m standing back in the house’s front yard to look at the finished work.
The new paint job looks great. The hedges are impeccably trimmed. The front porch looks brand spanking new.
Carter sidles up beside me, turning to look at the house. He cocks his head. “I can’t believe it. The house looks move-in ready.”
I glance at him, unbuckling the work belt I’ve got looped around my waist. “It does. It’s funny what can happen in a week when you’ve got a whole crew running ten hours a day.”
His lips curve up. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.” His gaze slides down to take in my dirt-streaked shirt. “You’re not going to wear that tonight, are you?”
For a second, I don’t get that he’s talking about the ball. Then understanding hits me. I scrunch up my face.