by Ava Claire
Of course she saw us coming. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a trigger that engaged whenever I was on the property, weighing the occupants and the sound going nuclear when a third, unapproved person was detected. It was dramatic, and over the top—which was right up my mother’s alley.
“I’d love a tour! And please, call me Penny.” Penny brought our hands to her lips and pressed a kiss on my skin before letting go. Slowly. Like she couldn't stand it.
I couldn't either.
She followed Branson down the front corridor, her gentle brown locks swishing around her waist in time with her hips. “The house is beautiful. How long have you worked for the Wades?”
He scrambled to the grand staircase, the stained glass skylight casting a rainbow colored halo around his bald head.
“Twenty five amazing years,” he beamed with pride.
“And how many people work here?”
“Two full time maids, a chef and his assistant, a groundskeeper...and madam.” He winked at me like we’d just shared some inside joke, but he didn't realize that I was thinking that my mother, as toxically sweet as she could be, never worked a day since she married my father. “Madam has a wing all to herself for her pursuits. She runs several charitable organizations.”
My eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.
“This place is our home and we take pride in it,” Branson ignored me. “How many people get the chance to live in a castle?”
“Wow,” Penny's voice was filled with fascination and I stood at her side, her excitement contagious. For a split second, I forgot that I'd lived in this house and knew every square inch; every antique nook and cranny.
Branson gestured around us. “This is my favorite area of the house.” His tiny brown eyes followed his pointer finger to the ceiling. “Madam had a vision. She grew up in a Victorian, and wanted to incorporate her nostalgia in the design of her home.”
As we all gazed up at the stained glass ceiling, I remembered the first and only time I'd seen my mother's childhood home. My father bought it for her as a anniversary gift and even though there were no inhabitants, the house was cleaned weekly, everything frozen in time. You'd think all that love and care meant there were beautiful memories within those walls, but she stayed in the car while dad gave Marie and I a quick tour.
Our current tour was on the move, Branson leading us through the countless sitting rooms on the first floor only. We said hello to Lauren, one of the maids that used to slip me Hershey's kisses when my mother wasn't looking, and were ushered into the elevator. As Branson gushed about how the elevator had custom hardwood flown in from abroad and the artist who crafted all the carvings and fixtures, I stole a look at Penny, expecting her expression to be one of utter boredom. Her whole face was lit up as she followed every word. She felt me watching her and when she met my gaze, hers darkened.
Message received—she was still pissed at me.
I took it in stride. My comment in the car was a dick move. It was my last ditch effort to regain control because when she was near, it was easy to forget how we met and why we were together. And thinking through all that just left me with a combination of guilt and resentment. Guilt because she deserved better than to be anyone's fake anything...and if I was a better man, a stronger man, I'd walk away for that reason alone. The resentment had everything to do with the man that was waiting for us when we stepped out of the elevator. Standing proudly in the foyer, his portrait glared down at us, I looked up at Robert Kirkman Wade. I knew there were similarities between the two of us. We had the same olive colored eyes that burned holes into anyone that dared to challenge us. His sharp nose was my nose, and the set of our jaws were identical. We both had dark hair to rival our pale green eyes, though his had a dash of white that made him look distinguished. These days the few strands left were white as snow. Even in the massive bed he resided in, his body a distant memory from the athletic one that boomed from the frame, he still had the ability to shrink anyone to nothing with one look. And just to prove how far his reach was, he could erase all the hard work I'd done for the company with a flick of his wrist.
Penny followed Branson to the library and I lingered at the picture, my head filling with all the things I didn't say to the old man. I wanted to flip him the bird. Tell him I wouldn't be manipulated. Tell him that I wouldn't play his game.
Penny's laugh cut through the cloud of anger and wrapped me in a warmth that melted the icy gaze of my father. If he wasn't such an asshole, I may have never met Penny.
I trailed into the library like I could see the notes of her laugh weaving through the air, pulling me toward her. I paused in the doorway, crossing my arms as I watched her spin as she took in the two level room. Books that no one read wrapped on pristine shelves that surrounded us.
Branson gushed about the extensive collection of first editions, and how my mother was working on a monthly story hour for local children. He left out the fact that my mother had been talking about setting that up for years.
Penny’s rotation stopped on me and her smile wavered. I expected another glare, but this time, it was concern that rounded her features. Her lips parted and she mouthed, are you okay? She'd seen my father’s portrait, not that you could miss it, and caught my reaction to it. Despite what I'd said, and how I hurt her, she was concerned about me.
I didn't deserve her, in a fake or real world.
Her hazel eyes shifted slightly just as Chanel no 5 stormed its way through my nostrils.
“Xander, darling!” My mother barely waited for me to turn around before she wrapped her arms around me. Stilettos vaulted her to my height and a diet of skinny lattes and Xanax made her a quarter of my size. I embraced her hesitantly and it just made her squeeze me tighter, like she wanted me to break her.
“It’s so great to see you, darling!” She gushed, stepping back to look at me. She inspected my face with the care of a plastic surgeon, documenting every flaw. My inspection just left me with a hollowness in my gut. My father was the one who was dying, but she looked as languid as he did. Her skin was pulled to tightly over her bones, making her large blue eyes devour the rest of her face. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled into a ballerina bun. My mom was a beautiful woman, working as a model before she met my father. When they married, she put aside the runway for a house on the hill and life as a wife and mother. She never talked about those days, but when I was a kid, I snuck in her room and found a chest full of odds and ends from her career. Casting calls, laminated photos with her looking wan and glamorous, wrapped gifts from designers with handwritten notes that read how excited they were about her wearing their clothing—it filled me with such pride that she was my mother, and once upon a time, she did more than sleep until two pm. She'd caught me though, yelling at me for the first time, tears spilling down her cheeks as she shoved me out of her room and slammed the door in my face. My nanny had taken me to the park and when we got back two hours later, she still hadn't emerged.
“Hi mom.”
When she smiled it looked like it hurt. “We weren't expecting you today!” She glanced over my shoulder and her smile broadened. “And you brought a guest!”
She didn't wait for an introduction, maneuvering around me and wrapping Penny in the same smothering embrace. Penny went rigid with shock at first, then relaxed, her eyes softening when she met mine.
“I'm Mariah Wade.” She released Penny and stood tall, like she was expecting applause. “But you can call me Mimi. Hopefully, some day you'll call me Mom.”
“Jesus,” I groaned, rushing forward before Penny made a break for it. “You don't even know her name.”
She let out a schoolgirl giggle, complete with a wink. “Silly me. What's your name, dear?”
“Penny. It's a pleasure to meet you.” Penny answered with a gentle smile.
My mother stepped back like Penny was a puppy that just reared up and started walking on two legs. “You have such lovely manners!” She nudged me with her elbow. “She's a keeper.
” She knew I was about to tell her to turn it down so she skated toward Branson, giving the man a set of air kisses and sending him off to get drinks for us all.
“We're actually not staying,” I interrupted. Everyone in the room looked at me with disdain coloring their eyes. I ignored them all, holding out my hand to Penny. “We need to get back to the city.”
My mother frowned. “But your father-”
“Please give him my love.” As soon as I felt Penny's hand slip into mine, I pulled us back toward the elevator, then decided to take the stairs instead. She didn't say anything until we were back in the car, headed down the hill.
“Are you okay?”
The truth? No. I couldn't lie to her.
I adjusted my tie and set my eyes on my phone, all the work I'd dropped for this impromptu getaway lighting my phone up like Christmas in suburbia.
“I will be.”
Chapter Nine: Penny
I felt a tickle in my throat.
I burrowed deeper in my covers, letting myself fantasize about a reality that would never be. I wanted to turn the tickle into a full on cold and text my sister, telling her I couldn't come to the final fitting. Then I’d ignore her texts ordering me to put a band aid on it and get my ass to her suite. Eventually she'd send someone to fetch me, using force if possible, probably Lara since she'd be pissed at that stage. I'd save up all the saliva I could and as soon as Lara got close I'd cough as hard as I could. Lara would run for cover, scrambling for Purell as she confirmed that I was bedridden. My sister would let it go and have a good morning, commenting that I didn't matter anyway. I'd have a good morning because I didn't have to put up with Bridezilla and her minions...and I could re-read all the texts Xander sent me last night, apologizing for the cruel comment he made and for dumping me into his family's lap, then snatching me away at the last minute. The anger that made me want to remove his head from his body had gone from a raging river to an annoying trickle from a leaky faucet, but he didn't need to know that. Not yet anyway.
Even though I knew my phone would just confirm that I couldn't stay in the bed any longer, I pressed the button. 8:43 AM. The fitting was at 9.
I turned to the nightstand and the neon numbers taunted me. I clutched the deliciously soft down comforter, pulling it up to my chin and pouting like a kid who didn't want to go to school. I knew that whether I got out of bed or not, at 8:45 on the dot, my room would 'wake up'. The blinds would open, bombarding me with the sun and a city that already had a few hours on me, classical music would pour out of the speakers that was more patronizing than relaxing—and that's just the way my sister wanted it. She'd set up reservations at the most expensive boutique hotel in San Francisco, complete with a pretentious concierge with a haughty British accent and rooms filled with unnecessary amenities like a bidet to wash your butt and a pre-programmed system that my sister arranged to summon me whenever she wanted me.
I groaned as the system kicked in and daylight streamed into the room. I couldn't burrow deep enough to escape any of it. And even if I cried wolf about being sick, hell would freeze over if I thought I wasn't standing by her side tomorrow.
I stared up at the ivory colored ceiling, letting my imagination run wild. I pictured the best day of my sister's life. The flowers that turned the already lush garden the ceremony was being held at into a literal Eden. The string quartet that hummed a classical arrangement of their song, 'Just The Way You Are'. The white chairs that held family and friends and a who's who of Bay Area society. Everyone smiling, thrilled for a ticket to the event of the century as Victoria graced us with the very first look at her vintage Carolina Herrera. Her ken doll hubby would be waiting in his suit and tie, eyes welling with emotion before he shut that girly crap down, and everyone would oo and ahh and we'd all believe in love and happily ever afters because we saw it with our own two eyes.
It would be perfect...or else.
And then I saw something else flickering out of the corner of my eye. He sat in the center, on the bride's side. He looked so sexy in his suit that it was almost obscene. From his slender black tie and the muscles that rippled beneath his jacket and crisp white shirt, you couldn't help but imagine the pieces trailing from the door to the bed. His dark locks were ruffled by the wind and you just had to run your fingers through it. Tug it as he did things to your body...
He smiled and I shut my eyes but it didn't scrub away his face. He was tattooed on my subconscious: every angle, how he made me melt with a simple curving of his lips, and those eyes. I thought the green was filled with warning, to proceed with caution because he was trouble. But I'd caught something else yesterday. Proceed with caution—because I don't want to break your heart.
Which was part of the problem. We made this arrangement to keep our hearts out of it. I was starting to believe that was an impossible thing to ask of something that had no rhyme or reason. Love was just love. It just happened.
And I think I was—
“No!” I hissed, hurling the covers from me like I was tossing away the L word. I dragged my body from the bed and rushed to the bathroom. I wet a washcloth and covered my face with it. When I dropped the terry cloth veil I knew that I didn't just have it bad. I had it bad.
I gripped the sink, my hands shaking and like my body had a mind of its own, I tiptoed my fingers up my forearm, rounding my shoulder, and paused when I touched my collarbone. It didn't compare to his touch, when he claimed me with his hands, then his mouth, but I was right back at the winery regardless, saying his name.
“Xander.” I brought my fingers to my lips and remembered the way he tasted.
I snatched my hands from my face and launched myself into the shower with a mission: not to think of him. I scrubbed myself from head to toe, and just when I thought I'd locked him away somewhere he couldn't invade my waking thoughts too, I'd touch some part of my body that betrayed me and I was wet—and it had nothing to do with the water.
I snatched back the fabric shower curtain, deciding that if sheer willpower didn't work, I'd go with a dependable, yet equally unhealthy approach. I'd make a mental list of all the reasons falling for Xander was a terrible idea.
1. We met in a sex club. Enough said.
2. I didn't belong in his world. I was a teacher. Our little jaunt to Livermore probably cost more than what I made in a month. I grew up in the suburbs, he grew up in a freaking castle.
3. Our relationship was built on a lie. His father basically was forcing an arranged relationship on him, just to screw around with his head.
The throbbing between my thighs tried to coax me back to the good memories. Not just how right it felt to be with Xander, but how good it felt to be with someone that put me first. That derived pleasure from my pleasure, instead of me scrambling to figure out what I needed to do to make my partner happy so they wouldn’t abandon me.
And that was a good number 4. I couldn't even hear Marshall’s name or see the places we used to go together without wanting to burn something to the ground. How could I fall for someone when my heart was still in pieces?
I toweled myself off and slipped back into the bedroom, just in time to catch a biting text from my sister.
How long until you get here? We're all waiting, you know.
I dropped it back onto the mattress, knowing that she wasn't expecting a reply anyway...she was expecting me to get there, immediately. Annoyance kept thoughts of Xander at arm's length as I slathered on lotion and tugged on an oversized tunic and leggings and stepped into my flats. I knew if I brought my phone I'd check for texts from him, so I left it on the bed, walking down the corridor toward Victoria's suite.
I expected more of the same, the world turning without me, my presence a mere formality. But when I knocked on the door, I came face to face with Victoria, her pale eyes round with concern.
“Penny, are you okay?”
“Yes?” I said gingerly, suddenly self conscious when I realized the room was dead quiet because I'd just interrupted a conversation, and i
t was clear from the way all eyes landed on me, then dropped guiltily, it was a conversation about me. “What's going on?”
Victoria's expression softened as she drew me into the room, looping her arm through mine. It was something that you did with a confidante, something warm and friendly and safe. My sister wasn't friendly with me unless it benefited her somehow, so I kept my guard up.
“I just wanted to apologize for the way Lara behaved yesterday.”
Silence still filled the air but in my head, I heard a record scratch. “What?”
“She was rude. Unnecessarily so and that's not what I want this weekend to be about.”
I blinked, sure that either my eyes or my ears were deceiving me. I couldn't find any sign that Victoria was about to snort from suppressing her laughter, or spy a rope tied to a bucket of blood and I was about to be drenched, the joke, as always, on me. Just to make sure, I made my rounds, eyeballing each of her friends. They all seemed genuinely apologetic. Or sympathetic. No matter how I sliced it, it was moving, and my heart swelled a little bit in my chest. I frowned as I darted around the room once more and realized that Lara was nowhere to be found.
My sister patted my shoulder gingerly. “I told her to sit today out. We'll make any last minute alterations she needs later this afternoon.”
This was just becoming stranger and stranger. Now Victoria was picking me over her friends?
“What a beautiful gift!” A throaty voice stepped in and I hesitantly released my sister's gaze, turning to the stranger. The woman was petite, with fragile features that collectively sighed in awe when she looked back and forth between my sister and I. “It's her special day and she's looking out for her little sister. Weddings bring everyone together!”
Murmurs of agreement and wide eyed appreciation were bestowed on Victoria and she soaked it up like a sponge.
“That's what sisters do, right?” Victoria smiled and gave my forearm a tight, warning of a squeeze. I got the silent command—all is forgiven, so be on your best behavior.