“Si, with me.” His dark eyes were vibrant. His inner soul opening up for me. “We could have more between us. Be together without consequences. I could fall for you without it hurting, without it ending.”
Another time. Another place. His phrase came back to me. If only we’d met outside these walls. We wouldn’t have to sneak around seeing each other. And I could go with him to Colombia. Where we had all the time in the world.
And I would fall in love with him.
But that wasn’t my reality.
“Javier,” I whispered. His name sliced my heart. “I can’t.”
His own pain flashed and then he quickly covered it with a smile. “I know. I told you it was selfish. Please don’t be upset with me for saying it. I just wanted you to know. I promise not to mention it again.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t hold a grudge against his truths. My mouth touched his lips, but he took over the kiss. Rough and passionate. Fingers running over my waist. Our limbs tangling together. His hands bunching up in my skirt, pulling my hips firm against him.
When I’d ordered this dress, I’d picked it for several reasons, one being the way I would feel as he kissed me. Glamourous. Sexy. But it wasn’t some couture fabric making my heart race. It was this man.
Javier pushed me back against the wall of books. My dress plunged deep in the front. He placed a kiss on my exposed skin. And then his lips brushed the swell of my breast. And then something flashed in my mind. Maybe not the answer to forever, but at least something a little more than what we had now.
“You could come with me,” I muttered the words breathlessly. He looked into my eyes, not understanding. “To Turks and Caicos. You could come with me. Show me the real ocean. Like you promised.”
“Okay,” he whispered. We gazed at each other, the sadness mixed with unrequited desire. His lips relaxed into a smile. “I made you a promise. Then I will come. It could be our goodbye.”
I swallowed hard. The end. We had the final act. A date. A time. And even a place. The tears sparked in my eyes. But I refused to cry. My fingers smoothed over his tuxedo jacket. “Then it’s a plan. You and me at the beach house. I’m holding you to that promise.”
“Sí. I will be there.” He placed a little kiss on my cheek. “I hate to let you go. Not now. But we probably should go back. You will be missed.”
“I know. I’ve already been gone too long.”
But we didn’t move. His lips brushed mine again, trailing along my jaw until he reached my ear. “When tonight is over, leave the dress on when I come to your room. I want to be the one to take it off of you.”
“Okay,” I whispered. The thoughts of later circled through my blood, making my heart beat faster. He kissed me hard on the lips. I let myself get lost in the taste, the feel of him. I would need to reapply lipstick before going back inside. The party needed to be checked on. But I didn’t care. Only one thing occupied my thoughts right now.
Javier’s mouth moved lightly over my neck. His leg slipped between my thighs, bringing us just a little closer. My body curved into the feel of him. I let myself enjoy a few more stolen moments of his touch. Our relationship carried a ticking clock. But right now, we both occupied the same space and shared the same feelings.
A sharp sound rattled behind us. Everything came to a sudden halt as the library door opened. I gasped against his lips. After all the close encounters, the truth flashed in vivid details.
Mrs. Hawthorn stood in front of us. “Javier. I thought you would have the decency to at least keep your dalliances out of plain sight of the guests and not distract our employee while she’s working.”
I felt sick. My stomach knotted up as my fingers let go of his shoulders. I shrank back against the books, wishing to magically disappear into the pages. But Javier had the exact opposite reaction. His dark eyes blazed with anger. The flirtatious and sweet man disappeared into someone dangerous. His hand slammed down on the desk, making her precious copy of Oliver Twist fly up into the air and fall back down.
“Enough! I’m tired of you walking around here like some queen, making everyone bow to your absurd wishes. Uncle Ted, your own son, would not even step foot in here tonight. I don’t know why you act this way. Are you so miserably unhappy that you must bring everyone else down to the mental dungeon you live in? Do you get some sick pleasure torturing those you should care about?”
Her posture remained intact. Maybe it was the lifetime of hiding her emotions and dictating commands. A slight flare touched her nostrils. She didn’t even look at me as her voice spoke in a threatening monotone. “Ms. Atwood, return to your duties in the ballroom.”
I didn’t wait to be told twice. My heels clicked on the floor at a rapid pace.
“Sarina, wait!”
I didn’t look back at him as I passed by Mrs. Hawthorn. I just wanted out of the room. This was a fight about me, but it was also much deeper. I didn’t want to stand in the way and be another potential piece of carnage in the battle between the Hawthorns.
Present Day
HOLLOW EYES PUSHED THE TABLE away from the door. The man in the gray mask held my body captive with his arm pressed across my throat, cutting into my esophagus, making it difficult to breathe or swallow. Wrapping his other arm around my waist, the man lifted me up from the ground. My bare feet dangled against his legs as he carried me down the hall to the library.
Stay alert. Stay focused, I told myself. Don’t go down without a fight.
The room appeared just how I’d left it a few hours ago. The lamp cast a yellow glow across the shelves. Oliver Twist remained spread open across the desk. My captor set me down and took a few steps back, pointing his gun at me.
“Get the code.” His voice came out as a low grunt.
I swallowed hard. This game would end quickly if I didn’t stall. But I was out of ideas.
“I can’t do it with my hands tied.”
He stared at my outstretched wrists. I didn’t think he would actually set me free, but I had to try. “I can’t get you the money like this. Everything will go faster if I can use my hands.”
Silently, he reached for the knife strapped to his belt. He cut the band, and the thick plastic fell on the desk. My hand shook as I reached for the novel. Turn slowly and think. Turn slowly and assess your surroundings. Maybe there really is something to this book. Maybe she isn’t lying.
In addition to my own explorations while borrowing books, we’d spent many hours together in this room, drinking afternoon tea and opening mail. If a safe existed, I feel that I would have known about it. But her declaration still left me baffled. Even if there was a safe, it contained no money from the party.
Flipping through the pages, my eyes flickered over to the man next to me. His lips remained pressed tightly with the gun pointed about four feet away from my chest. I wondered about his aim at this range. It shouldn’t take much to strike something vital like my heart.
Shuddering at the thought, I continued through the book. My fingers stuck to the pages from the clamminess of my nervous hands. The cover shifted as I moved the book around. I saw a few strokes of a pen underneath the paper flap.
Maybe there really was a code to a mysterious safe. I lifted the final few pages to the back cover. Blue ink was printed in neat block letters—most likely from a teenager.
Mother,
I hope you have a happy birthday. I chose this book as a present because I knew you would think I have finally embraced classical literature. But like the Artful Dodger, I took it from Linda Rosemont’s personal library. You’re holding stolen pages. Happy birthday!
Love, Drew
Any other day, this would have made me laugh. The defiant son’s creative gift—one she must still cherish dearly or hide from embarrassment. But at this moment, the smile faded from my heart. A man still had a gun pointed at me. This little note was not a code to a safe.
And then I saw the gold reflection.
My breaths grew uneven as I tried to remain calm. Thi
s was it. Lying beneath the copy of Oliver Twist was a gold engraved letter opener with a sharp tip. It sat right where Delsey Hawthorn had left it from opening her correspondence letters.
I would have the element of surprise, but only for a fraction of a moment. Grab and lunge. I let a chunk of pages fall back on top of the book inscription—enough to keep turning. I needed to stall until I figured out a plan.
I flipped another page. This man had a gun and a real knife. I flipped another page. But the letter opener had a sharp point. I flipped another page. I just needed one good stab. I flipped another page.
“Hurry up,” he grunted.
“She . . . uh . . . she didn’t tell me where the code is in the book. I’m looking. It’s going to take a minute.”
My captor fidgeted around, shifting his weight from one boot to the other. He pulled the red bow tie loose from the collar of the white shirt, revealing his neck.
That was it. The opportunity.
I ran my tongue over my cut lip as the adrenaline pumped through my blood. “She likes to change the code. Keeps everyone on their toes. Hides it in different books.”
I was close to the end. I would need to go for the neck. Jab the blade in. Maybe it would slide through the delicate tissue of his throat. I would maim the guy and take his gun.
No! I had to try harder. Panic simmered in my chest. I had to kill him. Kill or be killed. This wasn’t me. But sometimes we had to become someone else in order to survive.
I could do this.
I would do this.
Now!
I grabbed the letter opener and lunged at the man. I wanted to put everything I had into my one opportunity. My fingers held tight and I swung the blade toward his neck. But the man deflected my attack with his wide arm, shoving my body away. I fell sideways, landing on my back against the floor. I gasped for air as the wind got knocked out of my lungs.
But I couldn’t remain in place.
I had to fight.
Scrambling to get back up, I couldn’t find my bearings fast enough. My captor forced me back to the floor, straddling my legs as I struggled to get away. With the letter opener still in my fist, I took a swing at him again. The tip made contact with his skin, cutting the side of his neck below the ear.
The man grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head. It wasn’t over. Not yet. Not for me. I fought, trying to squirm out of his hold, kicking upward with my knees. Maybe I had a slim chance of hitting the asshole in the crotch.
“Stop!” he yelled.
I had to keep going. I had to try.
I had to fight.
My teeth made contact with his arm. I bit down hard like a rabid dog, trying my best to break the skin through the sleeve of his shirt.
“Ahh! Stop. Sarina. Stop. It’s me.”
And with those words, my body went still as I continued to breathe with labored gasps. My captor stared down at me from behind his gray mask. His eyes were suddenly very familiar. I knew this body. I knew this person. I knew him.
And my heart broke in half.
Early Fall
SHE KNEW ABOUT US AND we would pay.
I left Mrs. Hawthorn and Javier in the library to fight. I needed to get out of that room. Their family issues went far beyond me, but I also added fuel to the fire.
I struggled to keep my thoughts steady as I cleared the ballroom doors. The room was almost empty now. The dealers were gone from the tables. Wandering around aimlessly, I tried to catch my breath. I needed something to calm my nerves, something to make me not obsess over the fight taking place in the next room. Going over to the bar, I grabbed a flute of champagne and downed it in one quick gulp.
“Hey.” One of the bartenders caught my attention. His blond hair was slicked back with an ample amount of gel. “Is this your phone? It keeps going off.”
I stared at him for a moment, trying to process his words. I think his name was Marcus or Matt. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
He passed it over to me, and I looked at the screen. Twenty-two missed calls from Cole.
What the hell?
I didn’t need him adding another layer of drama to this evening. He needed to learn some boundaries. But I shouldn’t complain. The guy was going above and beyond right now. As much as it pained me to admit, Jeremiah Cole was being a good friend, which meant I needed to call him back. However, before I got a chance to even dial his number, Mrs. Hawthorn came storming back into the ballroom. Her eyes scanned the empty space until her hawk-like gaze landed on me.
Shit!
I tossed my phone back behind the bar and went in the opposite direction of the woman. With shaking fingers, I gathered all of the silent auction bid sheets. I took those to the table that held the poker chip log of pledges. My quick estimate totaled almost three million in donations tonight.
This was incredible. I wanted to celebrate after working my ass off for this fundraiser. All of the attendees had a wonderful time and the donations surpassed the projected amount by almost a million—thanks to the thousand-dollar poker chips played at the tables.
But I wasn’t sure if this was enough to save face with my employer. Mrs. Hawthorn may relish in the fact that tonight was a success, but I’m not sure she would extend her gratitude in my direction at this point. She would take back my trip. She probably would fire me too. And then tell her friends that I couldn’t be trusted.
She would ruin me.
Javier came through the door and over to where I stood in the ballroom. His face remained distorted in rage while fury blazed in his eyes.
“What happened?” I whispered.
“She left. Said we’re not people who have family discussions with guests in the house.”
I cringed. “This is going to be bad. I should just go pack right now instead of at two in the morning when she thinks it’s more acceptable to call me a whore again and throw me out.”
“Did she say that to you just now?” His eyebrows went up as he looked directly over at his grandmother.
I shook my head. “It doesn’t even matter at this point. She’s gonna fire me either way. And then tell her friends. All of this will have been for nothing.”
“No,” he growled. “I won’t allow her to do it.”
“You can’t stop her. No one tells her what to do.” I kept my back to Mrs. Hawthorn, knowing she hung on every movement between us. But what did it matter at this point?
“She’s been allowed to carry on far too long like this. I am going to put a stop to it. Tonight. She’s not going to treat people this way anymore.”
“Good luck with that.” I let out the breath strangling my chest. “I’m just going to do my best to finish tonight. I’ve worked too hard planning this party. I’m going to see it to the end. And then after that, I guess she can do whatever she wants with me. But right now, I’ll just try not to get cornered by her.”
His hand caught mine. “No. Stay with me.”
“It’s okay. I’ll find you later. All of this will be over soon anyway. And we can figure out what to do then.” I squeezed his fingers before letting go.
With my chin held high, I made my way across the room to finish this evening. I wanted her to think I was not flustered despite the sick feeling in my stomach. I dismissed the bartenders. Only two guests remained, engaged in a boisterous discussion over politics. Javier poured himself a drink and joined the men.
I needed another myself. But I thought it wise not to antagonize that woman further tonight. I dared a glance in her direction. Her red lips stayed in a firm slant of disapproval. I swallowed hard. My fingers twitched with the need to stay busy. Over by the coffee station, I filled a china cup to the brim with the straight black liquid.
Part of me wanted to just get this over with. Let the wrath of her razor voice slice me. I was under no delusion this issue would get any better with time. No, quite the opposite. The longer she stewed, the more devious the speech she would write in her demented head.
I’d defied her wishes and her war
nings. I’d committed treason in her eyes. My stomach rolled with the coffee. I dared a glance at Javier. Those concerned brown eyes met mine briefly as he sipped his glass of bourbon. He laughed with the men, doing his best to keep that reassuring smile on his lips.
I would miss him. His presence. His touch. And his words—they made me feel special. Important. Invincible. I wanted to say yes to his offer more than anything in the world. Let him take me away from this place. I hated him a little for dangling that in front of me.
But Javier was a good man. Mrs. Hawthorn didn’t understand him, either. She took her own flesh and blood for granted. He needed to leave this place too and go back to those who appreciated and loved him. The sooner he left, the better.
And it would hurt so damn much.
“Sarina?”
I jumped at the sound of my name. “Uh, yes?”
Josie stood in front of me. Her face pinched in worry as she fiddled with the sequins on her flapper girl dress. “I’m so sorry. But I need to leave. It’s my son. He’s gotten sick and running a fever. I hate to just abandon this mess, but I need to go get him.”
“It’s okay.” I flashed a tight smile. “You go. I’ll help Brenda and Scarlett clean up.”
“You sure? I feel so bad. I could come back in the morning.”
“No. Just get home. Make sure your son is okay.” I waved her off, feeling the tension build inside my chest. I’d be stuck in this room with Mrs. Hawthorn watching me clean up. Would she say something then or wait to fire me after I’d made the room sparkly for her?
Elmore ambled through the doors. His jacket was still pressed and immaculate, accented with a gray tie. But his eyes were tired. The last few weeks had been rough on everyone. Him in particular. The butler had manned the front door as if the devil himself would try to walk right past him and into the foyer.
“Did the valet service already leave?” I asked.
“Yes, Ms. Atwood. They left those two gentlemen’s cars in the driveway.”
“Good,” I mumbled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Hawthorn speaking with the last two guests. Javier shook hands with the men before parting ways.
The Hawks_A Novel Page 26