As soon as the last pile of dirt was placed on the plots, people swarmed me like hungry vultures. Finley pressed into my side for support, but wisely said nothing as family after family gave me their condolences and offered assistance if I ever needed anything. It took everything in me not to react in a negative manner with each passing person. No matter how much it angered me that, deep down, these people didn’t care, my parents didn’t deserve to have negativity around their burial site.
I don’t say much as the minutes tick by until almost a full hour goes by with me standing here and accepting false sympathy. Finley remains the whole time and I can feel the Red boys and their eyes on me. None of the seating Order members stayed behind, probably already in my house for the wake. Thankfully, the extra hands I hired from the security firm arrived yesterday and Sam and I had worked through with a plan to keep the manor secure throughout the whole affair. The last thing I needed today was to have to deal with security breaches in my own home.
When the last of the families bid me their condolences and well wishes, I sigh in relief and Finley squeezes my hand that I didn’t even realize I had been clutching this whole time. I didn’t miss how his hand didn’t give me the warm tingles I had felt when Silas had held my hand after my speech earlier and that just added even more to my ever-growing pile of things I needed to deal with. If I was going to move forward with my life, I needed to let Finley go. He didn’t deserve to stick around if I wasn’t going to offer him anything in return.
My ridiculous heart, whether I liked it or not, belonged to Silas Ezra King.
“Come on, Honey. Let's get back to the house and we can get you something to eat.” Finley leans over and runs his nose along the curve of my jaw to bring me out of my inner rambling. Just as I am turning my head to answer him, a low rumbling growl interrupts what I was going to say and we both turn to see the four stooges approaching, the tall, dark, and deadly one looking pissed off and leveling a death glare on Finley. Great, I think as I inwardly groan, here we go again with the peacocking.
“Honey.” Silas’ voice was low, clipped, and absolute as his incredibly sharp eyes assess Finley like he was the definition of a walking dead man.
“I really do not have the energy for this posturing bullshit right now, Silas. We may have had a moment, but that was all it was.” A lie, but it slips past my lips easily enough. His eyes flick to me then I see something akin to amusement flicker in his dark depths, as if he sensed the lie coming from me. Simply great.
“Ride with us, love?” Hawk steps in and breaks the intense stare down the two of us are engaging in and I look over at him and frown.
“Are you out of your mind?” I ask, only partially serious. How I had acted around them earlier as the funeral continued after my speech probably didn’t help my anti-Red boys campaign I had going on right now. It probably gave all four of them the wrong impression that I was ready to just forgive and forget. Silly boys.
“We should present a united front going into your parents' wake.” Silas insisted then and I narrow my eyes at him, but before I can open my mouth to say anything, he continues on. “After that little introduction speech, my Mother as well as the rest of the board are going to be out for blood.” He says and I know he is right. Well, about the part where the Order was going to be out for blood, not that we needed to appear as a united front. In doing that, it would further weaken my resistance against them even if it were just for show.
“Thanks, but no thanks. We are still a long way from being okay.” I level a cold look on Silas, my remark mostly directed at him. I felt like I could forgive the other three way before I could Silas. His betrayal had cut deeper than the rest. He had made me fall in love with him all just to yank it away from me and basically spit in my face. Part of me wonders if the connection we once shared was even real. “See you at the wake, boys.”
I think they are too dumbfounded after my statement because I manage to grab Finley’s hand and make it halfway down the cobblestone walkway to where my Bentley waited when Silas calls out to me and stops me dead in my tracks.
“Keep fighting me, Honey. I think it’s the best kind of foreplay.” He says this entirely too loud and I find my cheeks heating like I was a blushing virgin. There were still a few lingering bystanders and I am sure they heard every word out of his sinfully alluring mouth. Not bothering with a response or to even look at him, I continue on with a silent Finley in tow.
This wake was only going to make my day worse. I could feel it.
“I know this isn’t the best time, but I think we should talk about that Silas guy. What is up with him? Are you two seeing each other?” I sigh in annoyance as I lift a glass of whiskey to my lips and take a long sip. I usually try to steer clear of alcohol on a good day but being back in this town surrounded by all these fake people was really doing a number on my self-control. I needed something to take the edge off, especially with anticipation churning in my gut about the lash back I knew was coming from the Order after my very public rebellious speech against them earlier.
“You’re right. This isn’t the best time.” Glancing at Finley who stood next to me in the grand foyer of my manor, I note the tension lining his face and his shoulders. Silas and the boys had kept their distance in the last hour since we arrived back here from the cemetery and I wasn’t sure if I was grateful for that or irritated. Part of me enjoyed the boys going out of their way to get close to me each chance they got, even if it annoyed the other part of me, the part that knew I needed to keep my distance. I liked seeing how much they cared to keep bugging me, though.
“He seems to think he owns you.” Finley says bluntly and I almost groan out loud as I take another, deeper, sip of my drink. The liquor burned a path down my throat to the bottom of my beaten and weary soul, and it helped soothe the ache in my heart along the way. This had been my papa’s favorite whiskey, though I could never understand why. Whiskey had never been my thing, I was more of a wine girl, but drinking it today felt like I was paying homage to his memory.
“You know nothing about Silas.” I answer instead, not really sure why I am engaging in this conversation anyway. Having all these people in my space was grating on my nerves and I wasn’t sure having this conversation with Finley right now was the smartest move. I really didn’t want to snap at him when I knew his concerns were genuine. He knew enough about what Silas and the guys did to me to know they are bad news for me.
“It’s not hard to take a guess, Honey. His type, they are no good for a woman like you. He’s toxic and he will just break your heart all over again.” His words hit close to home, but I don’t say anything at first. Silence descends over the two of us as I scan the crowd of mingling people, half of them in the foyer and the other half spilling into the den and kitchen. I knew Silas and his crew were in the den but I wasn’t sure where the Order wives were, Rebecca especially.
“You don’t have to worry about Silas and I, Finley. It really isn’t any of your concern.” I manage to say sometime later after a passing waiter hands me another crystal glass of whiskey. I don’t take any more drinks as I am starting to feel the effects and I need to be vigilant around all these snakes invading my house, regardless of my desire to drown my pain and sorrow.
“You know I am just looking out for you, Honey. I don’t want that bastard to force you into anything you don’t want.” He says, genuine concern lacing his tone and I glance over at him again. Finley was a good guy. One of the best I had bothered myself with in the last few years since Silas betrayed me. He was going to meet a woman one day that he would hang the moon and stars for and he deserved love and happiness like that.
Turning to him I sigh, “Listen Finley, I think it might be best if you-” I don’t get to finish my sentence before a throat is clearing, alerting me to a malevolent presence at my back. Stiffening ever so slightly, I turn to see Rebecca and Clarke standing rigidly behind me, danger radiating off Rebecca in stifling waves. Her viper-like eyes rake over me and then flic
k to Finley beside me and she doesn’t bother hiding the sneer that pulls back her upper lip when she looks him over.
“The Order would like a word, Miss Locke.” She says in a cool and clinical tone making all the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise. The barely restrained anger simmering in her dark, bottomless eyes was concerning, even for me. I didn’t fear this woman, not by a long shot, but I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that she wasn’t capable of truly wicked things. My parents were examples of that. “Alone.” She added as she flicked her eyes back to Finley.
Barely containing a sigh, I turn to my ex-lover and give him a brief tiny smile. “Go, Finley. I’ll only be a moment.” I assure him. He hesitates, eyes flicking from Rebecca to Clarke, then back to me before he dips his head and walks away in the direction of the kitchen. Turning back to Rebecca, I level a saccharine sweet smile on the woman. “There is an old study of mine down the hall here if you prefer privacy?” It was a mistake to go anywhere alone with these people, but I didn’t have a choice. I refuse to show any fear to them.
“Your assumptions would be correct.” Her voice is bland, unimpressed, and I just grit my teeth but keep the smile in place. Moving past her and her husband, I lead them past the crowds and down the hall that would lead to my papa’s office. I wasn’t taking them there, just to the door directly to the right once I entered the corridor. It was indeed an old study, one I had used to spend a lot of time in as a child, enjoying studying for classes and drawing of all things.
Opening the door, a pang rattles in my chest to see it exactly the same as the last time I was in here so long ago. It’s set up much like any teenager’s private hang out space, full of comfortable furniture to lounge on and a tv mounted to a wall above a fireplace that hadn’t been lit in years. Surprisingly, it was immaculately clean, not a speck of dust anywhere meaning my parents had made sure the cleaning staff had kept up on it all these years.
Clarke shuts the door behind us as I move into the middle of the room and I don’t take much longer dwelling on past memories created in this space, some of them involving Silas, and I turn back to the pair and clasp my hands in front of my, my glass of whiskey still hanging loosely from my fingers on my right hand.
“The Daegden’s, Finelli’s, and the Rhodes didn’t even want to be in your presence right now, Miss Locke, so let me get right to the point. I am not sure what your game is here but let me just remind you who is a better and more seasoned player than the other.” Her words are low and harsh, but they don’t have her desired effect on me. I stopped being afraid of the Order a long time ago. There wasn’t anything they could do to me that hasn’t already been done.
“Oh? And who is that Mrs. King?” I raise an auburn brow at her, the fake smile still in place as I assess her. Her expression turns stony and her eyes narrow on me, sensing the sarcasm heavy in my tone.
“Whatever rebellion you are planning, just don’t, girl. It won't end well for you.” Clarke speaks for the first time and my eyes flick to him to see him slowly making his way around my old hang out room and looking over the space with an expression bred out of boredom. Arrogant prick, just like his son. But not. Silas wasn’t even remotely as cold and hard as his father, I thought as I watched him take in the many old drawings I had hung up around the large space.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” I lie. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I wanted to play this out with them right now. My little speech earlier might not have been the best idea because it put me right in the path of the Order and any further investigation into uncovering what they were dipping their hands into would undoubtedly be thwarted now that I am on their radar. Unless you get help from the boys, a tiny voice in the back of my head whispers to me and I grit my teeth against the thought.
“Don’t play dumb, Miss Locke. It isn’t an attractive look on such a well-educated woman. The thinly veiled threats you made against us regarding your parents’ accident?” Rebecca curls her lip at me and I barely stop myself from snapping back at her in anger. I needed to be smart about what I said next if I wanted to get some heat off my back.
“I’m not, Mrs. King. My speech earlier had nothing to do with my parents. Their accident was just that, an accident.” The lie tastes like ash on my tongue, but I push on. “I still hold a bitter grudge against what your sons did to me, that’s all.” Another lie, but I stop talking as Rebecca assesses me with her dark eyes for a moment while she considers this. Whether she believed it or not, I don’t think I would ever truly know.
“Be that as it may, you may be a seating member of this council now, but it doesn’t give you the right to step over the line with us. It would be smart for you to mind your manners from now on in public. It isn’t becoming of an Order member to be standing against the very organization they are supposed to be standing with.” I can tell she didn’t believe me about my reasons behind my speech, but it wasn’t like I could do anything about it now. The past was in the past, and I felt like I was going to have to start applying that to all aspects of my life.
“Are you threatening me now, Rebecca?” I ask, eyes still on Clarke as he moved around the room at a sloth’s pace. She snorts at this, a very un-Rebecca like thing to do, and I stop myself from baring my teeth at the vile woman.
“Take it how you want, Miss Locke. I think it would be smart for you to start heeding warnings however you choose to hear them. It would be in your best interest to stay in your lane.” She says in a cool tone. Now that was a threat, but I don’t get to comment on it as a knock sounds on the door. Rebecca’s head whips to it and Clarke pauses in his trip around the room. “Who is it?” She snaps as if this is her house and she has the right to demand such things.
A moment later, the door opens indicating it hadn’t been locked by Clarke when he had shut it earlier, and Silas walks in all arrogant swagger and dark allure. Raising my brows, I watch as Rebecca’s eyes flash with anger and her face pinkens a little when her son makes his way into the room, uninvited. Perhaps I haven’t given enough credit to Silas where it was due. He had definitely changed in regard to what he did and didn’t do around his parents. The old Silas would never have intervened when his parents were doing business like this.
Not unless that business involved me, I guessed.
“Mother.” Silas greeted her head on, coming to stand a foot in front of her. He raised his chin and his eyes flicked to me behind her and I wondered how he even knew we were in here when he should have been in the den with the other boys. “Sorry to interrupt. The mayor would like a word.” I wasn’t sure if this was a ploy to get me away from his evil parents, but I was grateful for it, nonetheless. I wasn’t sure how much longer I would have been able to keep my cool around the both of them without snapping my barely restrained control over my bloodthirsty rage.
Rebecca straightens at this and she tosses a look over her shoulder at her husband before bringing her eyes back to me. I just stand there as she stares at me for a long tense minute and a small, evil smirk appears at the corner of her mouth before she speaks.
“Remember what I said, Miss Locke. My condolences for your loss, by the way.” I don’t have time to respond or launch myself at the bitch before she is sweeping from the room in that icy and graceful way of hers, her husband following behind her after tossing an arrogant wink at me. Clenching the hand that isn’t holding the glass of whiskey into a fist, I take a deep breath to center myself and close my eyes to ward away the anger simmering just beneath the surface of my skin.
The sound of the door snicking shut again and a lock flicking has my eyes opening again and I watch as Silas moves away from the door and begins slinking around, taking it all in like his father had been doing before he came in and interrupted. I don’t say anything as my eyes follow his impressive form around the room, my attention far too focused on the way his muscles rippled underneath his custom-tailored black suit with the black tie.
He was a devastating creature, built of power and raw sexuality and I couldn’
t bring my eyes away from him. Part of me knew I should leave this room. Being in here with him would only dredge up memories I knew should stay well and truly buried, but I couldn’t. His actions earlier at the funeral had cracked a giant hole in my shields and I was too mentally exhausted to pick up the pieces and shove them back together again. Wasn’t even sure I could find the glue to help me do it.
“One of my favorite memories in this room was that day we spent eating hordes of junk food and watching trashy reality tv. Is that odd that it would be my favorite memory?” He asks suddenly, breaking the stifling silence in the room and making the temperature skyrocket in my blood as the very memory he is referring to flashes before my eyes. It had been one of the first moments I knew I was falling hard for him. At twelve years old, he had insisted on spending the day with me when I was feeling under the weather and we had holed up in this room and did exactly what he had described.
We spent hours cuddled up on the couch watching trashy tv and stuffing our faces with all the junk food we could snag out of the kitchen under Violet's nose. We had laughed so much that I had found myself forgetting even being sick in the first place.
He stops in front of a drawing on the wall, one I had done of him standing by the windows in the corner looking out at the grounds that expanded around Locke Manor and the trees beyond. He had looked so serious, even as a young boy, looking out into the world outside the windows as if they held all the answers to any problems he may have had in his life. He had been tall, even then, his hair had been longer and I had used to love the way it curled behind his ears and how soft and silky it had been when I had run my hands through it that night…
Shaking my head, I push that memory back before it could consume me and make me do something reckless and something I would most likely regret once the alcohol was out of my system. I glance down at the glass still clutched in my hand and I set it down on a nearby end table by a couch and bring my eyes back up to him.
Whiskey & Honey: Crimes of Crimson Valley: Book One Page 10