Her Wanton Ways [Notorious Nephilim 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Carolyn Rosewood

  But why then had she told them today? What was it about those scrapbooks that had prompted her to spill her guts? And more importantly, why hadn’t he sensed something before now? His instincts weren’t that rusty, were they? He could understand Cristian not sensing anything even while walking around the lake with her, but Blade should have been able to see it in her eyes or feel it in her touch.

  Making love to Joelle was unlike anything he’d ever known. Spending time with her playing chess and pool had been more fun than he’d had with a guest in a very long time. Sharing their secret with her and having her accept it at face value had come as a pleasant surprise to him. There was no point in denying it. He was falling in love with her. If he were being honest, he’d been falling in love with her from the moment he’d first noticed her in the lobby, admiring Lilith’s picture.

  He tapped his shoe against the parquet floor, knowing it was probably annoying the shit out of Cristian and not caring. Her scent hung about him like a cloud, and when he closed his eyes, he saw her emerald ones, staring up at him with love. He could still feel her touch on his skin. When she’d started to cry in the library, it had taken every ounce of willpower not to pull her into his arms and comfort her.

  The door burst open, and Zach stomped in. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “The others are on their way. I just overheard Janice at the front desk tell one of the bellhops Joelle Albright was asked to leave early.”

  “She was. I asked her to leave.”

  “Why?”

  There was no point in lying. “We seduced her the first night she was here.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I don’t care whether you fucked her. Why have you asked her to leave?”

  “We’d better wait for the others, Zach. Sit down.”

  Blade realized he was trying not to make Joelle look like the bad guy in front of Zach. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was a guest, and it was fine to seduce her and have some fun with her, but he’d let it go too far. She’d been engaged to the man who was trying to dig up dirt on their resort. If push came to shove, where would her true loyalties lie?

  Zach took a seat and glared at him and Cristian in turn. Blade ignored him and returned to his musings. He had trouble imagining a strong woman like Joelle staying with a rat bastard like Scott. Was he that out of touch with the human world? The guests lived a fantasy life here. Perhaps he simply didn’t understand what women had to deal with once they returned to their real lives?

  The others filed in and took their seats. Noticeably missing were Leo and Andras. When Blade asked about them, Hugh explained they’d be along in a while and had said not to wait for them to start the meeting.

  Blade had a strong sudden image of Joelle standing in the parking lot, bags in her car, looking anxiously toward the front entrance, as if hoping he and Cristian would come running out to tell her it had all been a terrible mistake. He almost got up to leave the room. His palms actually started to sweat, and he had to wipe his forehead.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m afraid I have some potentially bad news.” He took a deep breath. “Cristian and I just found out that one of our guests, Joelle Albright, was engaged for three years to Scott Malloy.”

  “Fuck.” Zach pushed away from the table and began to pace the room.

  “What’s so special about this guest?” asked Emmett.

  “They fucked her,” said Zach.

  “We only found out today about her prior engagement to Scott,” said Blade.

  “How?” asked Emmett.

  Blade and Cristian exchanged a glance.

  “She told us,” said Cristian. “She broke it off six months ago, and even though she swears she didn’t know what he was trying to do, we thought it best she leave at once.”

  Zach and Emmett were watching them both carefully. “Is there more to this?” asked Emmett.

  Cristian sighed out loud. “She accidentally saw my wings yesterday.”

  “Ah, Christ…” Emmett shook his head. “Cristian, what the fuck are we going to do with you? When are you ever going to take this place seriously?”

  “All right. You’ve made your point.”

  “Did you two tell her our secret?” asked Zach.

  “Ah, yeah,” said Cristian. “We sort of had to, don’t you think?”

  “And she knows Scott,” said Emmett. “She was going to marry him. For all you two know she is married to him. And now you’ve sent her away, along with all our dirty little secrets.”

  “Well, shucks, Emmett,” said Blade. “What do you think we should have done instead? Kill her and bury the body in the basement?”

  A general murmur of outrage and anger rippled around the table. Only Zach stared at Blade and Cristian with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Hang on a minute, all of you. Let’s think about this logically. Cristian, what prompted her to tell you two she’d been engaged to Scott?”

  “We aren’t sure. We showed her the scrapbooks and then—”

  “Why did you show them to her?” asked Emmett.

  “She was receptive to the idea of us being Nephilim,” said Blade.

  “Well, of course she was. More ammunition to take back to Scott.”

  “Emmett, think about that for a second. Really think about it. For one thing, most humans don’t believe us.”

  “So she just told you, out of the blue, that she almost married Scott Malloy?” asked Zach.

  “That’s right. She said he was a bastard, and he hurt her, and she was engaged to him for so long because she didn’t really want to marry him. Her parents are social climbing rich bigwigs who didn’t approve of Joelle choosing not to marry young and give them grandchildren like a respectable woman would do, so they pushed him on her.”

  “Who else knows she was here?”

  “She said only her roommate, Peggy.”

  “Where are you going with this, Zach?” asked Emmett.

  “Something triggered her confession.”

  “She had an opportunity to tell us before today that she knew Scott,” said Cristian.

  The others stared at him, waiting.

  “I took a walk with her several days ago around Pine Lake and pointed out the location of the proposed second set of horse trails. I also told her Scott Malloy was trying to use those plans to dig up dirt on this place.”

  Zach blinked a few times. “You used his name?”

  Cristian nodded.

  “And she kept silent?”

  “Yes.”

  “Until today.”

  “You think it means something that she waited until we’d told her our secret and showed her the scrapbooks?” asked Blade. “That wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t seen Cristian’s wings.”

  “Yeah, well, that was a lucky coincidence for her, wasn’t it? I think she got what she was looking for and will now take it back to Scott.”

  * * * *

  Joelle stood in the parking lot staring at the front door for what felt like hours, willing Blade and Cristian to burst out of it and beg her to stay. When the bitter wind became too much for her, she finally got into her car and circled the parking lot a few dozen times before pulling out onto the road that led south.

  She wiped away fresh tears as she remembered how warm she’d been while holding hands with Cristian as they walked around Pine Lake. His scent clung to the inside of her car as though he were sitting in the passenger seat. The way he’d looked at her as she had walked out of the library haunted her thoughts. He hadn’t really wanted her to leave. She was sure of it.

  Blade hadn’t either, but he was afraid. Joelle could see it in his eyes. How would she ever make this right? And how could she simply go back to her old life and forget about them? It was impossible. She’d had a glimpse of the life she’d always wanted, and she didn’t want to give it up, especially not like this.

  The trip back to her apartment took forever because she had to keep pulling over until she stopped crying long enough to d
rive again. Images of making love to both men, playing pool and chess, and Cristian’s wings assaulted her senses. The more she tried to push them away the stronger they rose up, unbidden. How long would this go on? She could still feel their touch on her skin and hear their voices in her head. Nothing would ever be the same for her again.

  Peggy was still at work, and Joelle was grateful she’d have a few hours to collect herself before telling her what had happened. She pulled into the complex, parked her car, and took her bags to her apartment. After putting some water on to boil so she could make herself a cup of chamomile tea, she changed into comfortable clothes, washed her face, and turned on the radio for background noise.

  Joelle only half listened to the news as she unpacked her bags. She held up each piece of clothing, breathing deeply. Their scents clung to everything. Maybe she wouldn’t wash a few pieces, at least for a while. Who would know?

  Her ears perked up at the mention of Scott’s name. Walking into the kitchen, she turned up the volume to listen. A man named Robert Pastor, whom Joelle recognized as the man who intended to oppose Scott’s bid for the state senate, was talking about an article in the Tribune that morning where a photographer had captured a shot of Scott walking into a known private sex club with a woman named Betsy Simpson.

  “Betsy Simpson?” Where had she heard that name before? She glanced around, looking for the Trib. It was Peggy’s habit to put the newspaper on either the kitchen counter or coffee table in the living room before leaving for work then read it at her leisure before dinner. It wasn’t in the kitchen, so she walked into the living room and spotted it.

  Joelle opened it and gasped at the grainy photo on the front page. No doubt about who the man was. Whoever had taken the picture must have had a telephoto lens, because Scott was smiling down at Betsy, whom he had his arm around, and appeared totally unaware his picture was being snapped. Betsy’s face was in profile, but there was something familiar about her hair and the shape of her jaw.

  They were climbing the steps of an old home Joelle didn’t recognize. As she scanned the article, she learned this photo had been taken less than one week ago and the author claimed his source had other photographs that proved Mr. Malloy and Miss Simpson visited this club, known as the Rose and Leather Club, and others, once or twice a month, starting as far back as five years ago.

  Five years ago? The kettle whistled, causing Joelle to jump. She poured hot water over the tea bag and took the cup back into the living room with her to read the rest of the article.

  Robert Pastor had been quoted as saying he had a dossier on Scott’s aberrant behavior, and that this behavior was the reason for his breakup with socialite Joelle Albright. “Socialite?” Joelle snorted. The article continued with Mr. Pastor outlining Scott’s secret deviant lifestyle with Miss Simpson, while publicly he’d begun a general outcry against such residences and private clubs, including a resort in the wilds of Fox Lake. Mr. Pastor said this was a merely a political ploy to divert attention from Scott’s scandalous lifestyle.

  “Shit.” Her heart hammered in her chest, as she scanned the text. The article didn’t say anything else about Lilith’s Playground and never mentioned it by name. Joelle breathed a sigh of relief. But when she came to the part that talked about Betsy Simpson, she nearly dropped the teacup she was holding.

  Betsy Simpson had a degree in Government from Georgetown University. So did Scott. She scanned the article, looking for the date when Miss Simpson graduated, but it didn’t give one. Then she went back and read more slowly. She’d interned with Senator McCarthy, and this time it did give dates. The same dates as when Scott was in Washington interning with Senator Charles Brooks.

  “Oh my God…”

  How long had they known each other? Five years…Had Scott actually been cheating on her with this woman? Had he truly been going to private sex clubs with someone for over five years, and Joelle had absolutely no clue about the clandestine life he’d led? The idea was preposterous. She had to find out more about Betsy Simpson, but how? And where had she heard her name before?

  “Scott’s college yearbooks,” she whispered. But how would she get a look at them? She knew where he kept them in his townhouse, but…no. It couldn’t be that easy. She still had a key. Had he changed the locks by now?

  “That’s madness.” But even as she voiced it out loud, she knew she had to do it. She had to do something to help Blade and Cristian. Although this article might very well kill Scott’s chances at state government and the rest of his political aspirations, it might not stop him from going after the resort.

  She went back and read it again, looking for additional clues. Either the reporter or Mr. Pastor had to be mistaken. Scott going to a private sex club? The Scott who had once called her a whore because she wanted to experiment in the bedroom? Not possible…

  She’d known Scott her entire life. Their parents were old friends. Scott was a few years older and consequently they hadn’t seen much of each other while growing up, but after she graduated from Northwestern their parents had pushed them together quite a bit. He’d recently returned from his internship in Washington and was looking for a wife who would not only look good on his arm in public, but who came from the “right stock,” as her father had put it.

  When her father’s firm decided to jump on the latest trend about two years ago and represent people as well as products, Scott had been one of their first clients. As far as their parents were concerned, Scott Malloy and Joelle Albright were a match made in heaven.

  Joelle tossed the newspaper on the table, poured the rest of the tea into the kitchen sink, and reached for the phone to call Peggy. “Heaven my ass,” she muttered while waiting for the receptionist to switch her call to Peggy’s desk. “I’ll see you in hell, Scott Malloy.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cristian jumped when the door burst open, and Leo and Andras walked in. Leo carried a copy of the Tribune, which he still read faithfully every day. “All of you need to see this,” he said, tossing it on the table.

  The paper landed closest to Sterling, so he picked it up and read out loud the article about Scott Malloy on the front page. Cristian resisted the urge to stand up and pump his fists in the air when the author described Scott as a deviant who had been going to private sex clubs with a woman named Betsy Simpson for as long as five years. They had him. They had the bastard by the balls now.

  Zach shot out of his seat. “What a minute…what did you say this woman’s name was?”

  Sterling scanned the text. “Betsy Simpson. Apparently she went to college with him—”

  “She’s one of our maids.”

  “What?” Every owner voiced the same word simultaneously.

  “We hired her last October after Cathy Henderson left,” said Zach.

  Heads nodded and a general murmur of understanding went around the table. Cathy Henderson had been one of the rare guests to whom they’d told their secret. She’d become very upset and had spent two days running around the resort trying to convince anyone who would listen that the twelve of them were the very spawn of Satan and this resort was a portal to Hell. Blade had personally driven her back home to Madison, Wisconsin, but not before she’d scared the shit out of many of their staff.

  Zach glanced around the table. “We had to hire over two dozen new housekeeping staff in a hurry, along with others. We lost forty-two staff members in one month. I take full responsibility for this. I simply didn’t have time to scrutinize everyone we hired. If I’d had more help”—Zach cut his gaze to Cristian—“I would have been able to check more carefully into her background. I’ll fire her at once, of course.”

  “Can you go and get her file first?” asked Blade. “Let’s gather all the facts before we do anything rash.”

  Cristian fidgeted in his seat while they waited for Zach. He felt like everyone was watching him, waiting for him to say something. Sure, he knew he should help Zach with some of the work, but it was more fun to seduce the guests. Unt
il Joelle had come along, that is. Now, the thought of making love to another woman didn’t even make his dick hard. He only wanted Joelle.

  When Blade had said he wanted her out of here within the hour, it had taken every ounce of strength not to tell Blade to shove it up his ass. He understood Blade’s concern—it was simply too big a chance to take—but at the same time, he knew Joelle was telling the truth. If anyone in this room had asked him exactly how he knew, he wouldn’t have been able to say, but he was dead sure of it.

  Was she already back in Chicago? Maybe he could telephone her, just to make sure she was all right? He could still trace her scent in the air. The softness of her skin was burned into his fingertips, and the fiery red of her hair was a color he’d never forget. Every fiber of his being ached for her touch.

  Cristian closed his eyes for a moment, not wanting to admit the truth even to himself, but there was no point in denying it. He’d done the impossible. He’d fallen in love with a mortal woman.

  While they waited, Blade filled Leo and Andras in on all they’d discussed in their absence. When Zach returned, he took a seat and opened the file. “Barbara ‘Betsy’ Simpson, thirty-five years old, graduated with a degree in government from Georgetown University the same year as Scott and just happened to have interned with Senator McCarthy the same year Scott was learning the ropes from Senator Charles Brooks.”

  Blade gave the others a droll look. “And now she’s working as a housekeeper? Why would a woman with a degree in government from Georgetown University, and who had interned for a United States senator, suddenly take a job as a maid at a resort in the middle of nowhere?”

  Zach leaned back in his chair. “Okay, how do we handle this? If we fire her, we won’t know for sure she’s the one who’s been giving Scott information.”

  Emmett frowned. “Wait a minute. Slow down. Now Betsy is the snitch, and not Joelle Albright?”