Opulent Obsession
A Dark Secret Society Romance
Alta Hensley
Stasia Black
Copyright © 2021 by Alta Hensley & Stasia Black.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Special Thank you to our editor, Maggie Ryan, and our wonderful beta readers.
And to our cover designer: Deranged Doctor.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Also By Stasia Black
Also By Alta Hensley
About Stasia Black
About Alta Hensley
Prologue
THE ORDER OF THE SILVER GHOST
Requests the honor of your presence
for
* * *
MR. RAFE JACKSON
* * *
As we prepare for the celebration of The Trials of Initiation
SATURDAY THE TENTH OF MAY
At half past Midnight
Oleander Manor
109 Oleander Lane
Attendance mandatory
1
Rafe Jackson
Just because he was dead, didn’t mean he was gone.
Haunted.
We were all haunted.
Timothy Jackson. All-star football star, valedictorian, first born, heir to the Jackson empire, my older brother by a year… and dead.
As I stood in my brother’s room, staring at his shiny trophies, his awards framed and on display, and not a single speck of dust to be found, I realized how alive he truly was.
Frankly… more alive than I was.
Years had gone by, and the room hadn’t changed one bit. I could still smell him, feel him, and practically hear his good-natured laugh. But no matter how hard I listened, I couldn’t hear him answer my questions. When I most needed the ghost of my brother to haunt my ass, the bastard remained mute. I needed the answer…
How was I supposed to endure 109 days in the Oleander going through the Trials that were meant for him to complete?
I was the imposter, and yet, here I was with the invitation in my hand, and hours from beginning the Initiation. The Order of the Silver Ghost was his birthright, not mine. Firstborn, not the second—and often forgotten—Jackson son. But here I was, filling his shoes whether I wanted to or not. It was now my duty, my task, my curse.
“What are you doing in here?” my mother asked from behind me. Panic laced her words, and I knew she hated I was in his room.
I spun to face her, noticing how her eyes scanned every inch of space to see if I moved anything. God forbid I alter a single item. “I came by to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye? Where are you going?”
“The Trials start tonight,” I said with forced patience, trying to not snap at the woman who had nearly climbed into the same grave with her son and died with him. “I’ll be out of contact for 109 days.”
Her eyes seemed to fog over as she focused on a picture of Timothy after graduation in cap and gown. “That’s right,” she mumbled. “Your brother had always been excited for this day.”
Yeah, I know.
“Remember how he would go to the Oleander with your father every chance he could?”
I nodded, remembering how I got to tag along most times even though I wasn’t ever going to be a member of the Order. It’s when I met my best friends. Even though they were all firstborn and would eventually go through their own Trials, they never treated me differently. I was one of them in all ways that mattered. Had any of us known sick fate would change all that for me, and indeed I would become one of them… well…
She walked over to Timothy’s desk and touched a cup of pens and asked, “You didn’t touch anything in here, did you? You didn’t take anything, right?”
“I didn’t move a thing,” I said as I watched how she inspected every single item just to be certain it was exactly how it had been before he died.
Minus the dirty clothes that had been in the hamper, not a single item had been taken away or given to charity, or God forbid… given to his grieving brother as an item to remember him by. I had to sneak into his room to get that feeling of closeness. When I had asked for my brother’s football jersey to remember him by, I still remember how it had nearly given my mother a stroke. Nothing… nothing, would leave this room.
She darted her eyes—drowning in disgust—to my arms that were fully covered in tattoos. I instantly regretted wearing a short-sleeve shirt. “I hope you plan to keep those covered. Your father would be embarrassed to have the Elders see all that… those markings all over you.”
“I’ll be wearing a tuxedo, Mom.” I wanted to roll my eyes, but instead I leaned in and kissed her cheek which felt cool and lifeless. “I’ll keep them covered. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t know why you would do that to your body,” she lectured for the hundredth time. “It makes no sense at all. Your brother didn’t feel the need to destroy his skin.”
Yeah, I know.
“And your hair.” Her eyes, now full of judgment, moved to my head. “You really should have gotten a haircut before arriving tonight. It’s shaggy and too long on top. You’re representing the Jackson family, and… Timothy. You’re representing him.”
Yeah, I know.
I took a step toward the door, desperately needing to get out of my brother’s tomb. My mother spun around and continued to scrutinize me.
“And that tattoo on your chest,” she continued. “I can see it peeking out of your shirt. You really have to be careful and hide all that… ink.”
There was a banner on my chest with the words: Strength, Love, and Honor. These were the words my brother and I would chant before something important. It was our motto. Our battle cry. And below those words on each pectoral was a sparrow with a compass right above their wings. My guide, my focus, and my way. It was ours, and now those words would forever be marked on my skin, and no matter how ashamed my mother was of that tattoo, it was the most important part of me. I would forever have Timothy on me, carved into my chest.
It was him.
It was me.
It was us.
Two brothers forever apart but hopefully someday we’d find our way back together again in the afterlife.
I nodded and gave the fakest smile I could muster. “Don’t worry, Mom. I plan to keep my hair combed and slicked back, and all my tattoos will remain covered at all times. You have nothing to worry about. I’m not going to embarrass you or Dad.”
Was I appeasing her? Did it make me sick to my stomach as I did so? Was this the unhealthy and twisted way my mother and I communicated now? Would a therapist have a field day with this?
Yeah, I know.
I needed to change the subject because we were going down a deep, dark hole. Whenever my mother and I talked about Timothy, it would lead to her spending days in bed in a depression that no one could get her out of. It was my dut
y—just like it always was—to try to protect her from the painful memories. Even when I’d been just a senior in high school, and not equipped in the slightest to deal with a hysterical mother and a broken father, it had been my duty to be the strong one. Timothy was gone, and it all rested on my shoulders. So, I knew I needed to change the topic fast.
“Remember Fallon Perry,” I began. “I saw her at Sully’s party the other night. She’s changed a lot. I barely recognized her.”
My mother flinched as if she had just been punched. “That girl… Is she back in town?”
“It seemed that way,” I said, uncertain why Fallon’s name appeared to upset my mother so much. Fallon had practically grown up in our household. I’d never thought my mother had any ill will directed toward her. “She was working for the catering company that did the party. She looked really good.”
My mother huffed. “Figures she would squander a perfectly good education. Everything was handed to that girl, and yet, here she is, wasting it by being some sort of waitress. Shame, but then again, she didn’t exactly have a good role model as a mother.”
“Her mother was nice,” I said, though why I was trying to defend our old housekeeper, I didn’t know. “Fallon was my best friend, Mom. I don’t know why you’re acting like she’s some past enemy of ours or something. I thought you liked her.”
She crossed her arms and walked over to my brother’s bed, paused for several moments, and then ran her palm over his blue, flannel bedspread. “I never liked Fallon. Your father did. He pitied that girl for insane reasons.”
I didn’t like how she was speaking of Fallon, and my patience grew thin, even in Timothy’s room which seemed to calm me when dealing with this woman. “Mom—”
“Let’s just keep the past where it belongs,” she cut in. “You have a lot on your plate right now. The last thing you need to do is to be thinking of that Fallon girl.” She shrugged her shoulders as if she were shrugging away all the memories of a girl who didn’t do anything to earn my mother’s distaste. “She always wore too much black makeup around her eyes. And her hair. All that black. So much black.”
“She was a teenager,” I defended. “There were lots of goth girls back then. It’s a normal phase.”
“Phase? Like she had a reason to act out?” my mother snapped. “That girl was given opportunities. She was lucky to have the Jacksons treat her the way we did, and—”
“Let’s drop this. I thought you would be interested to know that I had run into her. But it’s not a big deal,” I interrupted, trying to think of something else to discuss, because I could feel the tension growing in the room by the second.
“You need to focus. I don’t think you truly grasp the importance of the Trials of Initiation,” she said. “Your father is an Elder, and he had always hoped to hand down his business to Timothy. It was his dream, and the way it should have always been. You’re the second son, and don’t belong there.”
Yeah, I know.
“But the Elders made an exception,” she continued. “I hope you understand what a favor the Order is doing for this family. They’re allowing your father’s lineage to continue on, and it’s up to you to honor your brother’s memory in the best light. I don’t want you going in there and messing this up. All eyes will be on you. They know it should be Timothy, and they’ll be judging you against him.”
Yeah, I know.
I loved my brother, but his memory was like poison in my blood. I was nothing but a shell of a man trying to fulfill my dead brother’s destiny. That was who Rafe Jackson was.
That night my brother died in the car accident was the night I truly died right alongside him. I might as well have been a passenger. It wasn’t just his life that was cut short. It was mine.
I died that night right along with the man I looked up to more than anyone else.
“I really should get going. I need to still shower and get dressed,” I said, feeling like the walls of my brother’s room were strangling me, and I couldn’t escape fast enough.
My mother nodded, looking relieved that I was leaving the sanctuary she had created for my brother. It was sacred, and I didn’t belong.
“I heard that Sully VanDoren failed the Trials,” she said as she ushered me into the hallway.
“Yeah, but it seemed to work out for everyone in the end,” I said, already knowing where this conversation was heading.
“I know you two are friends, but don’t be like him. Be like that good boy Montgomery. Your father would be mortified if you screw this up. We’d have to leave the Georgia social circle in shame if you do. Your father’s business would never recover.”
Yeah, I know.
“I plan to do this right, Mom. I’m not going to mess up. I promise you.”
“It’s just not fair,” she said as she walked toward the top of the stairs with her eyes downcast and her shoulders slumped. “Timmy was made for this. Groomed to take over. He should be the one fighting for the silver cloak. Not you. It’s just not fair.”
Yeah, I know.
“Goodbye, Mom,” I said under my breath, not that she was listening or even cared.
What was once a happy family was now shattered in a million pieces, and there was no way to fix what would be forever broken.
Timothy was gone.
I was here.
And now I had to walk in his shoes.
Strength, Love, and Honor.
2
Fallon
“Fallon! It’s so good to see you, lassie!”
I set my black coffee on the table outside the cafe just in time to be enveloped in a giant, motherly hug by Mrs. Hawthorne. I’d always called her Mama H. We were on the middle of Main Street but it wasn’t as if Mama H cared. She’d given up caring about what people said about her a long time ago, I suppose.
I hugged her back just as tightly. Fuck anyone who was looking on and tittering behind their hands. Yeah, the black sheep of the town was back. Let the gossipmongers run and tell whom they would.
Though in reality, likely no one would recognize me without my blue-black hair and goth make-up. I was perfectly respectable-looking these days.
In fact, likely no one was looking at us at all. It was just being back here made me fucking paranoid. It was the way they always made me feel here.
Other. Less than. Just the bastard kid of the help.
I gave Mama H one last squeeze and then pulled back. It was not hard to give her a genuine smile, no matter what my life had become lately. And I really meant it when I said, “It’s so good to see you.”
She smiled back at me, round and motherly, almost as much a mother to me as my own. Mom was always so busy cleaning other people’s houses, and Mrs. H and Mom had been best friends for as long as I could remember. Mrs. H had been there for me when Mom was busy or when Mom had to work and couldn’t come to my recitals or shows at Darlington Prep.
I was on scholarship, naturally. One of a few charity cases interspersed with all the rich, privileged kids.
I glanced past Mrs. H and shuddered a little at seeing Main Street. It was one of the few small towns in Georgia that was able to thrive without being a direct suburb of Atlanta. The men of Darlington had businesses that spanned the globe. Some had apartments in New York and abroad, but their home base was always here. Especially when an Initiate was going through the Trials.
The Order of the Silver Ghost was the town’s worst-kept secret.
Everyone knew it existed, and a privileged few actually knew the name of the secret society, but there’d been whispers about what went on at the Oleander Mansion for as long as I could remember. Especially when Rafe and his friends got older, since all their fathers were involved.
Even thinking his name made me flinch.
I pulled back from Mama H and looked around at the elegant Main Street shops. The town thrived because of the men in the Order. After all, all those rich assholes and their wives liked to have fancy local digs to dine in and buy shit no one else in town could a
fford.
I shook my head. “God, I always swore once I got the hell out of this town, I was never coming back.”
There weren’t officially tracks to be on the wrong side of. Just a highway.
If you grew up on the wrong side of I-75, well then, you got to go to the shit public schools, and your parents likely worked at one of the shops that served the rich, took care of their kids… or, like my mom, cleaned their houses and all but wiped the shit from their asses.
Mrs. H nodded with understanding. “But here you are.”
I looked at her deadpan. “Not by choice.”
She smiled at that. “Oh, love, I’d give fair wages to bet it’s circumstances, not choice, that land many a lassie in this town.”
I frowned. What was that supposed to mean?
She waved a hand as if seeing and dismissing the question in my eyes. “Oh, thank you. Is that tea for me?”
I smiled and passed her the Earl Gray I knew she loved. “You haven’t changed in all these years?”
She laughed. “I’m an institution, lass. Institutions don’t change.”
I scoffed at that. “You’re only in your sixties. You’re hardly growing cobwebs.”
She just arched an eyebrow, then sat down and settled herself in the seat across the table from me. “Now tell me all about you. You went off and got yourself a fancy education all the way on the other coast! Sunny California!”
I grimaced. “A fancy education in a field no one seems to care about since I can’t find a job.”
Opulent Obsession: A Dark Secret Society Romance Page 1