Backlash

by Geneva Lee

  “Let me show you.”

  * * *

  I haven’t been to a lot of weddings. Foster kids don’t get invitations to things like that, but I suspect this is a bit crazier than most. Between a thousand guests and the release of live doves inside the church, I find myself wondering if Cirque de Soleil will be performing at the reception. Thankfully, it’s just another extravagant party.

  Ropes of pale pink roses and ivy drape elegantly across the ceiling, meeting in the center where a crystal chandelier hangs over the dance floor. A hundred tables cluster around it, each carefully set with bone china and silver flatware.

  “Want something from the bar?” Cyrus asks when we find our table.

  “Cyrus!” Poppy says sharply.

  “Oh, sorry, man.” My roommate looks flustered.

  “It’s okay.” I grip the back of my chair and look around. “I think I’m going to find Adair.”

  I’m weaving my way through a crowd of Valmont elite, searching for her, when a hand closes over my arm. I pivot to find her standing behind me.

  “I was just looking for…” Words fail me. I saw her walk down the aisle in her bridesmaid’s dress, but there had been a crowd blocking my view. Up close? She’s every dream I’ve forgotten in the morning, come back to me. Her dress is the palest pink, almost as fair as her skin. The gauzy fabric crosses delicately over her breasts and wraps around the curve of her shoulders, showcasing her freckles. Despite the hours of makeup, she looks like she does in the morning after we make love—lips pink, cheeks stained with a flush of red. I’ll never remember exactly what she wore, but I will never forget this feeling.

  “Did I do alright?” she says, laughter in her eyes. When I don’t answer, she prompts, “Walking down the aisle? I hope my practice paid off.”

  I shake myself out of my fog and crook a finger at her. “You didn’t trip once,” I say, trying to sound natural. “That deserves a reward.”

  No one notices us kissing at a wedding. We blend in with the romantic atmosphere too well. So I take my time, showing her exactly how perfect she is to me. When I finally release her, we wander through the middle of the crowd, and apart from everyone.

  The floor-to-ceiling windows of the country club ballroom look out over a large, picturesque lake. Banks of red-barked cypress trees, up-lit with gold, cluster around the shores, and wide swathes of green fairway dotted with white sand sweep in every direction. The lake itself is a mirror of the sky above, glowing with the incandescent oranges, reds, and purples of the setting sun.

  I squeeze Adair’s hand as an announcer’s smooth baritone calls out from the P.A. system. “Please join us in the ballroom where Malcolm and Virginia will now share their first dance as a married couple.”

  The newlyweds stroll to the middle of the parquet dance floor, hand in hand, as a spotlight appears from above. Everyone applauds, even me. I couldn’t care less about Malcolm and Ginny and the rest of the MacLaine family, honestly. It’s more like I’m clapping for the idea that two people can give this much of themselves to each other.

  Adair shoots me a surprised look.

  “What?” I ask defensively. “This is pretty magical.”

  “Weddings are definitely romantic,” Adair says with a sigh. She takes my hand in both of hers and rests her head on my shoulder as the first notes of their song start up.

  It’s a short song, and just as the next begins, the announcer invites everyone to join in the dancing.

  Adair has other ideas, though, because she pulls me into the hallway.

  “Where are we going, Lucky?”

  “This way,” she says with the easy smile of someone beginning to feel their champagne.

  “I can see that. Where will we end up?”

  “Shh. Shh.” She places an index finger on my lips and looks around in exaggerated paranoia. “It’s a secret.”

  Definitely feeling the champagne.

  The country club building is huge, and the more stairs we climb, the fewer people we see.

  “Don’t you want to dance?” I ask.

  “It’s a kind of dancing, yes,” she says with a devilish grin, pulling me into a room marked linen.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea, Lucky. I don’t have protection, and there are people—”

  “What’s wrong with lots of people?” She says with the slow precision of a person determined to sound less tipsy than they really are. “There should be lots of people at a wedding. They’re there to look at you and tell you how happy you look. Oh, and the presents. They give presents. Presents are good.”

  “We don’t want a wedding like this, Lucky. Weddings should be small and intimate. Only the people you really care about should come.”

  Her breath hitches, her eyes sparkling with something other than champagne. “You’re planning our wedding, huh?”

  “Adair MacLaine, I’ve known you were it for me since the moment I first saw you.” I cup her chin in my hand. “And then you were a bitch, and I was a dick—and maybe we just both knew and it scared us. But we couldn’t fight it. We’ll never be able to fight this.”

  “How can you…?” She searches my face.

  “I’ve stopped thinking about my future. There’s only our future. I can’t see it any other way.”

  “Sterling, I…” she trails off, at a loss.

  “I’m all in, Adair. I love you.”

  She pulls me to her like I’m the air she needs to breathe.

  That’s how it should be. Her need fills me with purpose: to live a better life, to be a better person, to make her happy, safe, fulfilled. And it’s not just the obvious things—her sense of humor, her intelligence, her perfect body. It’s the little things I can’t get enough of. How the downy fuzz on the back of her neck stands up when I whisper in her ear. How the corners of her eyes crinkle when I tease her. How she opens for me when we make love, trusting me so completely. Each day there’s a new discovery, a new detail I never noticed. I want to spend the rest of my life discovering as many of them as I can.

  “I need you inside me.” Her body hums with nervous energy. She tosses a pile of neatly folded towels to the ground, clearing space on a narrow counter set against the wall. There’s a moment of frenzied movement as I hike her skirt to her hips and lift her onto the edge of the counter. Her fingers fumble with my belt, unbuckling it and shoving my pants open enough to free me. Everything happens on instinct, each movement as inexorable as gravity.

  Her gaze meets mine, and I know I would do anything to have her look at me this way forever.

  I thrust, instantly relieved to be inside her. Adair’s arms coil around my shoulders as she melts against me. For a moment I wonder what I did to deserve her, how I could be lucky enough to be here now with her, promising each other forever with our bodies.

  We’re not in a linen closet. We’re in our own special place, entirely within ourselves.

  No one can find us here.

  We have all the time we need.

  And when we come down from our great heights, it is to a world laying at our feet, waiting for us to make it what we will.

  “It’s so…much…better,” Adair pants, “that way.”

  No, not better.

  Perfect.

  29

  Adair

  Present Day

  “What is all this, anyway?” Sterling asks, tying his robe while we wait for room service. He glances at the boxes spilling over into the living room.

  There’s no danger in him looking, because it’s not here. I’ve been through everything. I wouldn’t have thrown it away, which means Malcolm must have taken it. Despite that, my heart still races. I squash the anxiety down and ignore it. He’ll forgive me when the time comes, and I’ll find it. Sterling will help me. But not today. Today I want to linger in us before dredging up the past. “I was looking for something. I don’t know how much Malcolm has thrown away.”

  “He tried to throw away your things? He’s such a dick.” Sterling picks up a pape
r, his face rife with disgust. If he didn’t like Malcolm before, he despises him now.

  “My clothes are in storage somewhere.” I roll my eyes. “It’s so like my brother to toss a framed photo of mom and me away, but keep my prom dress. Sentimentality is lost on my family.”

  “But not on you.” He picks up a stack of books and smiles. It’s my old copy of Pride and Prejudice, the one he read and left notes in, along with a Steinbeck I borrowed from him, and the copy of The Great Gatsby he gave me for Christmas five years ago. His eyes flicker dangerously, and I feel my belly tighten. He’s thinking about the past, too, and from the looks of it, feeling rather sentimental.

  My ringtone shatters the moment, and I reach for it. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  I reject the call as soon as I see the Caller ID. Malcolm’s ears must be burning. “Speak of the devil.”

  “I thought I was the devil,” Sterling says, thumbing through Pride and Prejudice.

  “This is mine.” He holds up The Grapes of Wrath.

  “I’ve been meaning to give it back to you.” My phone rings again and I reject the call.

  “How long until room service arrives?” he asks, advancing a step closer.

  “It’s usually pretty fast.” I hold up a finger in warning. “So don’t get any ideas. We should wait.”

  He lowers his head to nuzzle my neck, his breath tickling across my earlobe. “But the things we shouldn’t do are the most fun.”

  How am I going to survive this man? His mouth cruises along my jaw towards my lips, and I’m already resigning myself to cold food when there’s a knock on the door.

  “Hold that thought,” he orders me, disappearing to sign for room service.

  I tighten my robe and peek over to see it’s Anthony, the poor kid who delivered the wrong screwdriver, with our order. He spots me and looks down at his feet, mumbling something to Sterling as he pushes the cart into the living room.

  But I barely notice. The screwdriver. The drawer. I told myself to let it go, but now it occurs to me that my family has always been better at hiding dirty laundry. Maybe there’s a reason that drawer is locked. Maybe there’s a reason my dad left this suite, of all places, to me. I grab a butter knife off the room service cart and carry it to the desk.

  “Um, thanks,” Sterling says behind me.

  I can feel them both staring at me, but it hardly matters if Anthony thinks I’m nuts. Sterling already knows I am. The suite door shuts and Sterling appears next to me. I continue trying to pry the drawer open. His hand closes over mine. “Allow me.”

  He takes the knife and pops the lock so quickly I’m not sure how he does it. We stare at each other for a minute. I don’t know what I’ll find in that drawer. I told him there were things I need to tell him, but what if this is how he finds out?

  “I’m tired of secrets,” I say. “I want to tell you everything, but you aren’t going to like all of it.”

  “You’re not the only one with bad news,” he says. “Look, I promise to listen, and no matter what you need to tell me, it’s not going to change how I feel about you.”

  God, I hope that’s true.

  “It might,” I say faintly.

  “You might change your mind when I tell you all my secrets,” he reminds me.

  “I doubt it.” I don’t just doubt it. I know I won’t. I’m all in. Sterling might have done terrible things in impossible situations. He might have made bad calls. So have I. “We can’t have a future if we keep getting dragged into the past.”

  “Then, let’s open the drawer, Lucky.”

  I take a deep breath and steel myself for whatever my father felt was so important he locked it in a hotel drawer. I slide open the drawer, revealing a stack of yellowing paper. My gaze skips over the top page.

  Untitled by Anne MacLaine

  I pick up the stack, moving the first page and read the words: Chapter One.

  “My mom wrote a book,” I say it as much for my benefit as his.

  “Why is it here?” He doesn’t try to take it from me. Instead, he moves behind me, coiling his strong arms around my waist and looking over my shoulder.

  “I don’t know.” I press the manuscript to my chest, a deep ache growing with each breath I take. “I didn’t even know she wrote. Should I read it?”

  “I think she’d want you to,” he says.

  It’s not what I thought I might find in that drawer. It’s not something I ever expected to find. What else don’t I know about my family? My ringtone breaks the silence again and I drop the manuscript on the desk and race over to pick it up. “I’m sorry,” I say to Sterling, seeing it’s my brother for the third time. A familiar panic settles over me. The last time he called this repeatedly was the night our mom died. “It’s him again. I should make sure nothing’s wrong.”

  Sterling’s face remains blank, but I know what he thinks. Still, no matter how broken my relationship is with Malcolm, I can’t risk ignoring him. I answer, “What?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Malcolm storms.

  Did I actually just interrupt a romantic interlude with a veritable sex god—and the love of my life—to get lectured by my brother?

  “I have company. I need to go,” I say.

  “Have you seen the news? Been on Facebook?” he demands.

  My thumb freezes over the end button. “No, why?”

  “Is your company Sterling Ford?” he asks. “You might ask him. I don’t know who else would do this to our family. But if I find out you had anything to do with it, I will make sure you not only never step foot inside this house again, but that you never see your family again.”

  “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” I hiss, but he’s already hung up on me.

  Sterling plucks a fry from a plate on the dining cart. “Everything okay?”

  “I’m not sure,” I mutter, opening the news app on my phone.

  Sterling doesn’t press me for more information. Instead, he grabs another fry and The Great Gatsby. He thumbs it open at the same time that I see the first mention of MacLaine.

  “Oh holy shit,” I breathe, reading the headline. “Did you tell someone about the night my mom died?”

  I look over to Sterling for an answer, but he’s holding a sheet of paper. It’s creased from being stuck inside the novel for years, but, even from here, I recognize the City of Valmont watermark printed on the back. When he manages to tear his eyes from it, they find me. Neither of us speaks. We just stare at each other as the past comes back to destroy us once again.

  * * *

  Secrets revealed, rivalries created, love tested. Don’t miss the explosive conclusion to Adair and Sterling’s story: BOMBSHELL

  Pre-order now!

  * * *

  Looking for another steamy, emotional read? Check out my bestselling book, Command Me, and dive into the world of the royal family. When Clara meets a mysterious stranger on her graduation day, she’s swept into a romance with the last person she expects: Alexander, the Prince of England. Grab a FREE copy for a limited time!

  Want to know when my next book releases? Text Geneva to 31996 or click here to be added to the list: https://www.genevalee.com/texts

  * * *

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  Also by Geneva Lee

  THE RIVALS SAGA

  Blacklist

  Backlash

  Bombshell

  * * *

  THE ROYALS SAGA

  Command Me

  Conquer Me

  Crown Me

  Crave Me

  Covet Me

  Capture Me

  Complete Me

  Cross Me

  Claim Me


  Consume Me

  * * *

  THE SINNERS SAGA

  Beautiful Criminal

  Beautiful Sinner

  Beautiful Forever

  * * *

  FOUR SEASONS

  Fall For You

  A Long Winter’s Night

  Spring Fever

  Hot Summer Nights

  * * *

  STANDALONE

  The Sins That Bind Us

  Two Week Turnaround

  His Private Collection

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank the characters in this book for giving me a place to escape during this crazy year!

  Thanks to Louise, my fairy godmother, and the team at The Bent Agency. Not just for all your hard work, but also the integrity and ingenuity you showcase every single day.

  Thank you to my foreign teams for all the hard work you do getting my books to readers all over the world. Thank you to Blanvalet for your enthusiasm regarding this new project.

  Thank you to my endlessly patient assistants, Natasha and Shelby. You keep my shit together better than I do!

  Thanks you to my Loves for being my safe place online. I’m so glad we have each other!

  To my author friends, this has been an insane year and I am awed by your grace, motivation, and humor.

  To my readers—thank you for loving Sterling as much as I do!

  I couldn’t do any of this without my family. Thank you for being my cheerleaders, my accountability partners, my escape at the end of the day.

  And to Josh, I’m all in. Always.

  About the Author

  GENEVA LEE is the New York Times, USA Today, and internationally bestselling author of over a dozen novels, including the Royals Saga which has sold two million copies worldwide. She lives in Poulsbo Washington with her husband and three children, and she co-owns Away With Words Bookshop with her sister.