Opulent Obsession: A Dark Secret Society Romance

by Hensley, Alta

Now? Now we could be friends again.

  I’d just be careful this time to keep my shields up, always. Rafe Jackson could never hurt me again as long as I never let him in too deep in the first place.

  We were both laughing and gasping for air when it was dèjá vu. I held onto his shoulders for leverage so I didn’t have to doggie paddle to stay up in the water and he’d frozen.

  We stared into each other’s eyes, faces inches away from one another.

  Just like that night all those years ago when we were studying in his bedroom.

  I didn’t wait for it to get awkward this time, though. I’d learned my lesson. I just grinned at him. His eyes widened and I thought maybe his breath hitched, but no, he was probably just short of breath like me from being dunked so many times.

  Well, no rest for the wicked.

  Using his shoulder as leverage, I dunked him again. Right before he went down, though, he flung his arms around my waist and dragged me with him into the dark, cold water.

  It rushed around us, all noise disappearing as we plunged under the surface again, warm bodies in the cold lake, clinging to one another as for just a tiny, stolen moment, the rest of the world disappeared.

  9

  Rafe

  “Well, if we ever wondered what house arrest feels like, we know now,” I said as I walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel after my shower.

  Maybe I should be more bashful and get dressed behind closed doors, but after days of living within these four walls, we were damn near a married couple at this point. Both Montgomery and Sully had warned me that the Trials were going to be brutal, but neither one of them really told me how the 109 were going to tick by at a speed that could drive someone mad. The fucked-up situation messed with your head.

  The Trials were awful, and yet… at least it got us out of this room and actually doing something. And I had to admit that Fallon handled each disturbing thing thrown our way with a courage and strength I hadn’t anticipated.

  “It’s finally stopped raining,” she said as she flipped through a magazine, appearing as bored as I felt. “Maybe we should go for a walk or something.”

  “Yeah, maybe we should,” I said, walking to the dresser to pull out a pair of pants. “Beau started his Initiation last night. We’re overlapping our time while here. Maybe we’ll see him and his belle. It’ll be nice to see a familiar face.”

  I was desperate for some actual conversation. Fallon was never the best at communication, always a little shy, but she had usually opened up with me.

  But not anymore. The girl was a closed book, and no matter how hard I tried to talk to her, she always found a way to shut down the conversation if it even came close to being about her. I knew very little about her beyond what I knew from when we were kids.

  She kept repeating that the past was the past, which I got, but at the same time, I wanted more. I felt she sat on so much more but didn’t feel like she could share with me. The fact that I no longer was the person she could confide in, saddened me.

  I had once been that man, and time had stolen it away.

  “How many of you are doing the Initiation?” she asked, still looking down at the magazine, a leg casually hung over the arm of a chair, and her hair hanging in her eyes like always. She was such a beautiful mess.

  “My group is six, but they put all the Initiates in clusters by age, so more are coming, and many have been before me. Out of my six, Montgomery and Sully are done. Beau just started. Emmett and Walker are next.”

  “You guys were always close in school,” she mumbled.

  “Yeah, but not like you and me,” I said honestly. “You were my best friend.”

  She looked up from her magazine and locked eyes with me. “Yeah…”

  “Anyway,” I said, breaking the connection and looking toward the window to have something other than the intensity of Fallon’s dark eyes to focus on, “nothing has changed for years at the Oleander. It’s how the Order does it. The age of twenty-five begins the process. Firstborn sons get the honor of becoming a member and taking over the family business.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  I almost glanced back at her but fought the urge. I didn’t want her to see the truth in my eyes. “I don’t have a choice. It is what it is. My father runs the business really well and has grown it. We aren’t as old money as some of the other Elders, and my father has had to really work hard to keep our coffers full at times. He’s taught me a lot in his own… distant… way. The world of oil is a beast, but we’ve figured out how to tame it. But I think he’s looking forward to passing the stress off to me… but I don’t really know. We don’t really talk about it much.”

  We didn’t really talk about much at all.

  My father had always been a man of few words, and after Timothy died… he nearly became mute. The only time I really ever saw him talk was here at the Oleander. He’d smile, he’d laugh, he’d act like a man who wasn’t broken and beaten by the Grim Reaper. He was a different man when he wore the silver cloak. He seemed… happy and content. I was envious that he could find that when I couldn’t.

  “But, yeah,” I clarified, looking back at her with a forced grin. “I want it.”

  I wanted so desperately to find that happiness my father had found in the Order of the Silver Ghost. If it lurked in these halls of the manor, then I would do whatever I could to find it as well. I needed it just as much as my father did, or I very likely could get swallowed up by the darkness that knocked at my door daily.

  I didn’t want to become a mute like my father.

  I didn’t want to become a shell of a man, and I was nearly there.

  So, give me the silver cloak please. Anything to make the emptiness fade.

  Fallon closed her magazine—which I was pretty sure she had already read at least once if not twice—but remained sitting in the chair by the fire. Her eyes went to my chest, my arms, my abdomen, and she asked, “When did you get all those tattoos? You didn’t have any in high school, and you never said anything about wanting any.”

  “As soon as I turned eighteen, I got the one on my chest for Tim. Just felt right and like something I needed to do.”

  “Strength. Love. Honor,” she said softly and nodded in complete understanding. “I think he would have loved it. Knowing Tim, he would have gotten a matching one with you.”

  I smirked. “My mother hates them.”

  Fallon laughed. “I can imagine. You have them all over your body.”

  “An addiction,” I said with a shrug. “When things got really tough, or I was in a bad mental space, getting one seemed to help. It just became a routine in a way.”

  She nodded again as if she understood. “I like them.”

  I smiled as I went to the closet to get a shirt. “Well, that’s good. Not like I can wash them off.”

  There was a knock on the door, and I quickly finished getting dressed so I could be the one to answer it. “I’ll get it.”

  “Lunch?” Fallon asked. “It feels like we just had breakfast. I swear I’ve lost all sense of time since being here.”

  When I opened the door, I was happy to see an unfamiliar staff person standing before me with the items I had requested to be delivered. I quickly took them from his arms and placed them inside. “Thanks, man,” I said, wishing I had cash to tip the guy, but it wasn’t like I was living in a hotel where I was free to come and go and utilize an ATM.

  “Who is it? What is all that?” Fallon asked as she approached the door.

  “A gift to help you pass the time away,” I said, opening the boxes so she could see for herself.

  Pulling out an easel first, I smiled when I heard Fallon’s gasp behind me.

  “Is that— Oh my god!” she squealed.

  I quickly opened the next box with paint brushes, and tubes of paint in every color I could think of. There was a larger box that held several different sizes of canvases as well.

  “I remember how you always loved to paint,” I
said as I moved the materials to a spot near the fire.

  “You got these for me?” She followed closely to where I began setting everything up for her. I wanted for her to have her own space, and this was near the fire as well as by the window for plenty of light.

  “I think you’ve read every magazine in this place, and if you’re feeling anything like me, then you’re about to go insane with all this time on our hands.”

  I stopped to glance over my shoulder at her and felt a sense of pride with the huge smile on her face I knew I caused. Her happiness lit up her entire face, and it had been the first time I had seen her look like this in a very, very long time.

  “Rafe… this is so thoughtful.”

  “I figured that with how long we’ll be here, you can paint a gallery full of paintings. At least get something out of this entire experience besides just… well… money.” Realizing I was turning something good into something bad, I quickly veered directions. “I figured you’d miss painting while here.”

  “I actually haven’t been able to paint anything since I’ve returned to Darlington.”

  I stopped cold and looked at her in disbelief. “Why? You always loved it. I don’t think I ever saw you without paint all over your hands.”

  She shrugged, but sadness flooded her eyes. “Life. I’ve just been really busy and… I don’t know. I’ve just lost parts of me, and—”

  I redirected my attention back to setting up the art area, and said, “Well, then it’s about time we get to finding that lost part. You need to paint. I may not know you well now… or at least the adult you… but I do know that you have a talent that shouldn’t be wasted.” I cast her a smile. “And what else do you have to do while sitting in this room?”

  “What about you? What are you going to do while I paint?”

  “Watch you,” I stated simply. Our eyes caught and I knew we were both remembering the way I used to sit and watch her paint when we were in high school. I wondered if she ever did anything with art. She was always so good, and I could get lost in the way she swirled the colors on the canvas with little effort and yet a true masterpiece would come from each flick of her wrist.

  “All these supplies…” she said, as she came up beside me and lifted the paints and brushes, examining them with wide eyes that sparkled in glee. “They must have cost a fortune.”

  “I have it to spend.” Realizing that sounded pretentious and instantly wanting to take the words back, I added, “It’s the least I can do since you’re helping me earn my place as CEO of my family’s business. I couldn’t do it without you.”

  She picked up a paintbrush and stood before the easel the minute I had it in place. “Can I paint something now?”

  “I was hoping you would.”

  Not wasting another second, Fallon dove in headfirst. I made myself comfortable in the chair she had been sitting in by the fire which gave me the perfect view of her work. I honestly could sit here all day and watch her paint. Yes, it was a gift for her, but just as much for me.

  Comfort.

  Familiarity.

  Memories.

  “Did you go to school for art?” I asked, hoping I could get a little more out of her now that she was back in her element.

  “Yes.”

  She kept painting and said nothing more. I suppose I should have taken that as my cue to be quiet, but I was stubborn and determined to break the wall that Fallon had clearly built around her heart.

  It was me. Her friend. We used to be able to tell each other anything.

  Was it this place? The Trials? Was it that we had had sex and now things were just plain awkward? Yes, we had lost touch, but it wasn’t like so much time had passed by that we couldn’t reconnect… or at least try. Why was she acting like we were complete strangers?

  I watched her squeeze haint blue onto her palette, and I instantly knew she was going to paint something reflecting the Trial we’d endured. I couldn’t wait to see what she came up with.

  “How long have you been back in Darlington?” I asked.

  “Not long.”

  “Is your mom still living here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re working at a catering company?”

  “I was.”

  Jesus, it was like talking to a brick wall.

  “Why is talking to you like pulling teeth?” I asked, trying to remove any annoyance in my voice.

  My intention was not to fight, and I just wanted her happy, but at the same time, I had a million questions.

  Not giving up, I continued. “So, what is it you get in the end? If we pass the Initiation, what was the dream you asked for?” I figured I should know since we were a team and working on this end goal together.

  “Money.” She started painting on the canvas, not even pausing to speak to me.

  “I know money, but how much?”

  “A lot.”

  “Come on, Fallon… is it so hard to speak to me?”

  My heart physically hurt. It constricted every single time I tried but just got rejected repeatedly by her. Who was this woman before me? It wasn’t this difficult with Fallon. Not the one I’d known. Never was it this hard. It’s why we were such good friends. Everything was so easy with us. She got me. I got her. We were the most unlikely pairing, and yet we just worked.

  She was the only person in my life who I believed truly saw me for who I was. I wasn’t just a forgotten son in the shadows of his brother’s bright light when it came to her. Fallon had always made me feel special and important.

  But here… in the Oleander… she made me feel like how the rest of them made me feel. Like I was nothing. Invisible. Unimportant.

  If that was her intent… then why?

  Just as I was about the give up and stop talking all together, she finally spoke. “I appreciate this.” She stopped painting and looked at me with warmth, and gratitude washed over her face. “It’s been a really long time since someone has done something so nice for me.”

  “That’s a shame. Because you deserve things like this.”

  She nodded very slowly as if she were lost in thought and then refocused on her art but still spoke as she painted.

  “It’s important to me that we pass this Initiation and not just because of the money I get,” she confessed.

  She took a deep breath but continued to paint as if the act gave her the courage to open up a bit. “I’m tired of always being the poor girl getting handouts and secondhand crap. I’ve always been a charity and I’m over that. I love my mother, but I don’t want to be like her.” Her jaw got firm. “I’m breaking the cycle.”

  I nodded but refused to speak in fear that the minute I did, she would shut down completely.

  “And I know you never saw me as a charity case,” she added. “You were the only one.”

  She painted for a few silent moments and I just sat and watched, wondering what would come out of her work. “So, this Initiation is important to the both of us. We need to make sure we don’t screw this up.”

  “Agreed. Although I’m not going to lie. It’s hard for me to see you—”

  “I know,” she interrupted. “But we aren’t going to pass these if we keep fighting or if you allow some weird protectiveness to eat at you. I need you. And I know you need me.”

  “It’s not weird protectiveness. It’s my job to protect—”

  “Your job?” she cut in. “Why would it be your job to protect me?”

  As if the ghosts of the manor knew we were talking about the Trials, there was a light knock on the door, followed by Mrs. H.

  “Another box,” I said as Mrs. H placed it on the bed.

  Her attention quickly turned toward Fallon painting and she clapped her hands. “Oh, I love seeing this!” Mrs. H looked at me and beamed the biggest smile. “Good job, laddie. Very good job.” She moved toward the door. “I can’t stay because I have to deliver another box to Beau and his belle, but good luck tonight. It looks like you won’t be doing this Trial alone.”
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  When Mrs. H left, I moved toward the box and saw a white tuxedo like the one I had first worn for the choosing of the belle. And no surprise, there was nothing in the box for Fallon to wear.

  Nudity had been her attire up to this point. Sick fucks.

  But I couldn’t believe what was in the box…

  How twisted were their dark imaginations? Who could come up with this shit?

  Jesus, Fallon was going to lose her mind.

  “What’s in the box?” she asked as she gleefully painted away, oblivious to what was about to happen tonight.

  I didn’t want to tell her. There was no point in having her stew over it until it was time to leave. We still had a couple of hours before the Trial tonight. She deserved some time of happiness, and I deserved to return to what would become my chair of peace and quiet as I watched her.

  She paused painting and asked again. “Well? What’s in store for us tonight?”

  “Just keep painting,” I said as I sat down, crossed my legs and settled in. “All that stuff can wait.”

  She stared at me with skepticism in her eyes as she nibbled the edge of her lips. But fortunately, the pull to continue with her painting was stronger than her curiosity.

  “Fallon…” I began, needing to say something that had been haunting me nearly as much as the haint of Timothy haunted the Elders. “Promise me something. When this whole thing is over, you won’t hate me.”

  She looked up from her painting with confusion in her eyes. It was momentary, and instead of answering, she went back to painting… and I let her.

  10

  Fallon

  I was naked again. Of course I was. I’d descended the stairs naked, carrying the only other object that had been in the box with trembling fingers: a glass dildo.

  It was exquisitely made, if you were into that sort of thing. Disturbingly realistic, except for its size. It was nine inches long, and while, yeah, Rafe was close, not even he was as big as this damn thing. A heavy glass ball sack hung off the end, all meticulously crafted, I had no clue how. I’d watched a show on glassblowing once, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine how one would make—