by Ruby Vincent
“What do you mean? I’m your mother. Margaret told me about the reception tonight and gave me the information. I wanted to join you but she said it was too late.” She squeezed my hand. “How did it go? Was Belle there?”
“She was,” I forced out.
“I liked her, Nathan.”
“Mom, you never met her. Just spoke to her on the phone a few times.”
“So? I spoke to you on the phone all the time those summers, and you sounded so happy. Anyone responsible for that is my new favorite person.”
I looked away, wincing as another bucket of reality killed the hope. Mom remembers happy summers and weekly photos of us cheesing to crack our faces in half. But she doesn’t remember the aftermath of our last summer together. Alzheimer’s was a sneaky, cruel fucker.
“Belle and I are long over,” I said. “We’ve both moved on. And even if I was still into her, she made it clear tonight that she’d sooner burn herself on the stake of independence than accept a marriage proposal from anyone—let alone me.”
Mom flapped a hand. “The chase is no fun without a few obstacles. What you two had was real, I heard it in your voice.”
“Real or not, it’s over, and I’m not up for another girl shredding my life and then kicking me in the teeth as a parting shot.” I kissed her forehead. “I’ve accepted my destiny as a momma’s boy. From now on, you’ll be the only woman I love.”
“Oh, you.”
Mom tried to swat me again, but I ducked her. Bobbing and weaving, I darted back and forth across the carpet.
“Ha ha,” I cried. “Too fast for ya, lady. Try and get me now.”
Giggling, Mom opened her arms, reeling me in more effectively than chasing me down. I dropped into her hug, stealing every second of it I could. Today was a good day. On a bad one—the days she looked her own son in the eyes and saw a stranger—those days she shoved me hard enough to put me on my ass for daring to touch her.
“Don’t build your life on empty arrangements and cold obligations,” she said into my shoulder. “It’s not what your father and I wanted for you.”
“I have to think about the life Dad wanted for you first,” I said. “The one far away from this place. After I get you out, I’ll worry about the rest.”
Mom hummed. “Where is Daddy? He said he was popping out for an hour or two. It’s getting late. He should be home by now.”
“Yes.” I dropped my arms. “He should be.”
I helped Mom to her feet. “Come on. You should get some sleep. What do you want to listen to tonight?”
“Chopin would be lovely.”
“Chopin it is.”
We went through her routine. Drawing the covers to her chin, reading a chapter from her favorite book, turning on her music, and finally shutting off every light but the bathroom’s. Margaret usually put her to bed and likely did two hours earlier. Mom got up to wait for me, holding on for as long as she could.
I shut the door softly behind, cutting off her soft snores. A figure emerged from the shadows.
“Nathaniel.”
Waiting in the dark, Satan? How unoriginal.
“Colonel. I thought you were asleep.”
“Of course you did.” It was too dim to fully make him out. The outline of a figure twice my size. The glowing white of its eyes, and the rippling shift of a dressing gown. I backed away, less than eager to see any more—to look at him at all.
“That’s why you’re sneaking around my home late at night. You should know I’ve set the security system to alert me when the door is opened. Your traipsing in and out after dark is over.”
“I didn’t sneak or traipse.” It was a struggle to keep my tone even. “Mom wanted to see me. I came straight here after the reception.”
“Ah, yes. I was told you made quite an entrance.” A hand reached for me. I smoothly slid to the side, ducking his grasp. “Is there no end to the embarrassment you’ll heap on this family, Nathaniel?”
“My name is Nathan.”
“It’s Nathaniel,” he snapped. “A name after my own father and you’ll wear it proudly.”
“Why should I?” I gritted. “I doubt Great-Grandpa would like me any better than you do.”
“Family has nothing to do with like.”
I scoffed. “You don’t even deny it.”
“Deny what? Your petty mewlings of being unloved and mistreated? You who has been given every advantage, but continually throws them away. You’ve been honored to receive an invitation to the cove. You certainly have nothing to offer a wife or future children. Rosalie’s soft spot for you got you this far.”
The figure shifted and light flooded the hallway. My mother’s father moved from the switch, showing in clear focus. Pale green eyes, thinning hair, full beard with flecks of gray. I thanked the all-knowing chef in the sky every day that he only passed on to me the traits of Mom that she hadn’t gotten from him.
He closed the distance between us, crossing his arms behind his back. “I strongly suggest, Nathaniel, that you take advantage of it. It’s a long way to thirty.”
“An even shorter one to twenty-five. That’s when Grandmother’s shares revert to me, yes?”
His eyebrow twitched—his single display of anger. “I wouldn’t rely on that. Go to the cove, marry whoever will take you, and attempt to not embarrass this family in the process. Your days of treating my home as a frat house are swiftly coming to an end.”
“Like I want to be anywhere near this house,” I snapped. “I’m here for Mom. End of. Whether it’s six years, eleven, or fifty, I will get us both out of this place.”
The colonel lifted his chin, the ghost of a smile taunting me. “You don’t have the power, money, or right to take my daughter from me, and if you wish to continue visiting her, you’ll watch your tongue. You’re nineteen now, Nathaniel. No one would question or blame me if I tossed you out on your rear and changed the locks. I should do so anyway. Vanessa is upset for days following your visits.”
“You’re confusing that with Mom’s naturally agitated state whenever she’s around you. It’s you she can’t stand, Pops.”
He flashed out, clamping down on my collar and hauling me in. He snarled into my eyes, constricting his grip tighter still.
“G-go on.” I chuckled. “Do it. Hit me.”
The muscle in his jaw ticced out of control, telling the lengths of his willpower. The colonel had never hit me, but more than once I saw he wanted to. The trouble was giving into his hatred would give me exactly what I wanted. I’d walk my bruises into the nearest police station and rip his reputation, spotless record, and daughter away from him. And he wouldn’t have a single ally on his side to stop me. The staff in this house had witnessed his treatment of me for years. Many of them were fired for getting in between us and standing up to him. If the truth came out, I’d have twenty-odd people behind me, confirming the great Colonel Orion Steele was nothing but a hateful bully.
Thankfully, or maybe unluckily for me, he wanted his good name more than finally putting me in my place.
He opened his grip, reclaiming the standard three feet of distance between us. “I am not one of the low-class brutes you’ve taken up with. I would never hit you, Nathaniel. We are years removed from that method of correction having an impact on you. As always, I will lead by example.”
The colonel backed away. “Keep your eyes on a man who didn’t sit idly by for wealth to be handed to him and built Steele Electrics from the ground up. Someone whose life isn’t stained by scandal or his reputation built on dubious charm or looks that will fade. Take a close look, Nathaniel, as I protect and care for my daughter the way your father should’ve.”
“Don’t talk about my dad!”
Grandpa smirked, reaching for the light. “Who is to stop me? You? Your bluster is just that.” He winked out, gloom blanketing us once again. “You have nothing, Nathaniel. You are nothing.” His voice faded. “But you are familiar with the door. Double bolt it when you leave.”
&
nbsp; His fading footsteps rang in the hall long after he left. Turning away, I walked in the opposite direction, feet soundless on the carpet-lined hall and staircase. I came out on the second floor, walked three steps, and closed my hand on the knob.
I didn’t need light to find the drawing room. Or directions to the cabinet at the opposite end.
Pulling on the handles, the doors didn’t budge an inch. I moved to the side, pressed my elbow to the glass, and smashed it through. Pain exploded up my arm, but didn’t pull a wince out of me. The colonel wasted his time putting a lock on the liquor cabinet.
I blindly groped inside and pulled out the first bottle I laid hands on.
What the hell.
I pulled out a second and carried them up to my room. These days, one way or another, I didn’t sleep alone.
Chapter Four
“Welcome to Citrine Cove, Miss Adler.” He reached in to help me out. “You’re right on time. The shuttle leaves in ten minutes for the villa. Your bags will be sent straight on, but you’re destined for a tour of the island. If you need anything from your suitcases, grab them now.”
I murmured a thank-you. We descended the staircase and I was struck by the same thought that overcame me as my plane circled the island for landing.
Citrine Cove was beautiful.
Gazing down from thousands of feet in the sky, fields of orange trees dotted the rolling green with vibrant color. I looked down from the window and saw straight to the ocean floor. Water a crystal-clear blue hid nothing from those skimming its waves. If this was a vacation, I couldn’t think of a better spot to kick back.
But it wasn’t.
On the ground, the man who pulled me out of my plane shook my hand properly. Half-frame glasses perched on a long, upturned nose and kindness curled his smile. I put his age at late twenties or early thirties.
“My name is Harley Hendrix.”
“Wow. That’s a name right there.”
He laughed. “What can I say? Mom let my father choose my name. You, Belle Adler,” he said without consulting the clipboard, “may call me Harley or Mr. Hendrix. Whatever you wish. I’m Mrs. Desai’s personal assistant and here to help you navigate this summer.”
Hendrix took something off his clipboard and handed it to me. “This is a schedule of events along with your room assignment, emergency numbers, and general information. Map of the island, buses that take you into town, and so forth.”
I accepted the folder without comment. I wouldn’t give the man a hard time. He was just doing his job and was no more responsible for my being here than the mosquitoes buzzing around my face.
I swiped a bold bugger making a dive for my chin.
“There’s complimentary bug spray and sunscreen in your room,” said Hendrix. “You’ll be very comfortable here, Miss Adler. I promise.”
“Are you reassuring me because you heard about my speech at the reception?”
“Yes. Is it helping?”
“No,” I replied, slightly amused. “But I appreciate it all the same.”
He motioned over his shoulder. “You’re the last to arrive in this time slot. The shuttle is ready and waiting whenever you are.”
“Is one of the stops for food?” I picked up the small pack I brought on the plane with me and followed him off the airstrip. “I missed breakfast.”
“There are refreshments on the shuttle. Juice, fruit, and croissants. A full meal will be served when you arrive at the villa.”
If I don’t make my escape before then.
I relished the thought for a few blissful seconds, and then let it go. I wouldn’t last very long on my own. No money. No college. No protection.
My only choice was to survive this summer by making the thought of being married to me so unappealing, my weighty inheritance fell too short to make up for it.
A group of people idled in the hangar. I recognized them from the reception. At nine in the morning, we had to be the first batch of sacrifices to the cove.
Three girls and two guys fell in step with us heading out of the strip. I eyeballed them the same as they eyeballed me. Taking in the sunglasses, light flirty dresses, strappy sandals, polo shirts, and plaid pants while they got a good look at my yellow belted top and purple shorts that read “What are you looking at?” across the back.
“Nice pants,” one of the guys said.
I tossed him a wink. “If you’re reading them, you’ve already done something wrong.”
“Caught me.” He laughed. “The name’s Zion. Zion Mitchell.” The boy broke through to shake my hand. I took it.
I had a resolution about getting too friendly with any of the guys here. I couldn’t have them getting ideas. That said, there was plenty of time to ensure Zion and his counterparts cast their sights on other potential brides. A little common courtesy was fine to start with.
In Zion’s case, I had a feeling I’d find him more palatable than the others. A statue, he was not.
Don’t get me wrong, the guy wasn’t unattractive by any culture’s definition. A strong jaw, easy smile, and soft shoulder-length locks, put Zion firmly in the handsome category. But a crooked nose and slight asymmetrical curve of said jaw likely prevented him getting too full of himself.
“Damn,” I said. “Us rich folk really like getting creative with the names.”
“When you’ve got that much money, it’s eccentric instead of crazy.”
“Tell me about it. My mom had to be talked out of Willow.”
He bobbed his head, lips pushed out. “Willow Adler. I kinda like it.”
Outside, a double-decker bus idled by the curve. Hendrix pulled ahead, ushering us inside. As promised, refreshments took up the first row of seats. I helped myself to a chocolate croissant and carton of milk while we chatted.
“Adler. I’m guessing everyone knows who I am.”
He cracked a grin. “If they didn’t, they for sure looked you up after your speech.”
A snort drew my attention to the girl topping the stairs. I instantly recognized her from the reception. It was hard to miss jet-black hair with blue tips—styled so they piled on top of her head and spilled over one side. She bumped into a server, nearly putting him on his backside, and hadn’t bothered to stop or acknowledge his presence.
“Of course we know who you are,” she said. “I’ve never seen anyone make a bigger ass of themselves in public. And that includes Lukas and his kink for streaking across campus.”
“I was drunk and it was a bet,” a masculine voice sounded behind her.
I slid past Zion, erasing the distance between us. “I’m afraid I don’t have the pleasure of knowing your name.”
“Ivy Thompson.”
“Well, Ivy, if speaking my mind is making an ass of myself, get ready to see just how shameless I am.”
She rolled her eyes. “Can’t stand girls like you.”
“You don’t know me. Let alone the girls I’m like.”
“Oh, please. You think you’re the first self-righteous, condescending know-it-all to bang on about us being controlled and treated like property. Did you ever think for a minute that we’re here because we want to be?”
“Want to be? You want to get engaged at nineteen?”
“Unlike some...” She raked me up and down. “My parents love me. They’d never cut me off or abandon me for marrying someone they didn’t like.”
My jaw clenched. That strike hit its target dead center.
“What about this summer is different from online dating, dating shows, The Bachelor, or the rest? People with the same interests are matched up and given a chance to find that spark. My parents want that for me, and if it doesn’t work out, no one is forcing anyone to get married.”
Speak for yourself.
“There’s no harm in spending the summer being wined and dined by a dozen or so hot guys. So, ease up, Adler. We don’t need you to save us.”
Ivy rammed my shoulder, shoving past. I moved quick, sticking my leg out and hooking her ankle. Sh
e dropped with a scream, hitting the floor before Zion could catch her. The furious look she flashed me would’ve turned a lesser woman to stone.
“Don’t touch me, Thompson,” I said mildly. “Never do that. But I thank you for sharing your point of view. If everyone just sees this as a summer of dating and hooking up, it makes things much easier for me.”
“What’s the hold up?” Hendrix called into the bus. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine.” I stepped over Ivy, hooking my arm through a gaping Zion. “Most of you are from the academy, right?”
“Uhh. Pretty much all of us,” he said slowly.
“Good. Then you can tell me everything the information packet left out. Who is just looking for fun and who’s out here for a wife?” I plopped us both down on a row in the back, ignoring the glares from Ivy and the two girls who helped her up. “Ready when you are.”
“What do you plan to do to us, Adler?”
I chuckled. “Don’t worry. Most of you are safe.”
I don’t think Zion found that particularly reassuring, but he launched into it anyway. Grabbing my folder, he pulled out the list of names we received and began at the top of the list.
“Preston Desai.”
My legs crossed just thinking of the night he made me his jungle gym.
“Among those honestly looking for marriage, he’s the top prize,” Zion began. “His father’s family, the Du Ponts, is an old wealthy family stretching back to France. They’ve made their name in the art world, amassing the largest private collection of famous artwork and antiquities, and then Preston’s grandfather branched out, buying up galleries and building studios to teach the next generation.
“The Du Ponts married into the Desais’ second-largest commercial real estate company in the country, popped out Preston, and bam, you have the richest guy here,” he said. “Everyone wants him, but the only one who is going to get him is—”
“Delilah Winthrop.”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
I fixed my gaze out of the window, feeling the rattle and hum as we set off for the cove. “We’ve met.”
“Do you know about Carter Knight and Nathan Prince too?”