The Devil Wears Black

by Shen, L. J.

  “She will tomorrow,” I said, clipped.

  “Thanks for clearing some time in your schedule to see her. I know how busy you are.” More sarcasm.

  I raised my glass, pretending to make a toast. “Anything for my niece.”

  And nothing for her parents.

  “Maddie, I don’t suppose you’ll be in the mood to play Monopoly with us afterward? You must be exhausted.” Mom turned to my fake fiancée, batting her eyelashes. She was laying it on thick. “It’s a tradition the Black women keep every time we’re in the Hamptons.”

  Mad perked up. “Really? I don’t remember us doing it during Christmas.”

  That’s because Mom just made this tradition up, I refrained from saying. My family went gaga over this woman, and I wasn’t entirely sure why.

  “We wanted to give you and Chase some, er, alone time as a new couple.”

  It alarmed me that Mom was more invested in Madison than I was in the stock market. Maybe she simply liked the idea of me not dying an old, solitary grinch. Madison was the only woman I’d brought home since She Who Shall Not Be Named.

  “I would love to,” Mad exclaimed sunnily. I didn’t doubt her enthusiasm. Knew she’d rather take a bath in a deep fryer than spend a minute with me.

  Katie and Mom exchanged the Look. The one they shared whenever they watched Pride and Prejudice and Colin Firth was stuttering something charming onscreen.

  I stabbed at my steak like it had tried to stab me first, watching it bleed juicily onto my plate, feeling an impending calamity hanging over my head.

  Mad was digging her obnoxiously patterned, colorful roots into the Black family, and my parents and sister were falling hard and fast.

  Unlike me. I was the only Black who was immune to her charms. To her smiles. To her heart.

  I promised myself that.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MADDIE

  March 1, 2001

  Dear Maddie,

  Today was not a good day. I know you were upset when we told you we couldn’t afford to pay for your school trip to the Statue of Liberty. Your father and I are struggling financially; that’s not a secret, but I wish it was. I wish we could keep this fact away from you, to afford all the things you want to do.

  There is so much I want to give you, but I can’t. My treatments are getting pricier, and ever since your father had to hire an assistant to run the shop while I’m in treatment or recovering, we’ve been treating things we took for granted like luxuries.

  What broke my heart today wasn’t even that you were sad about the trip—but that you tried to hide it from us. Your eyes and nose were red after you came back from your room, but you smiled like nothing happened.

  Fun fact of the day: Jasmine is called queen of the night in India, because of its strong scent after sunset. I left some in your room. My version of an apology. Remember to tend to them. You can learn a lot about a person’s sense of responsibility and devotion by the way they keep their flowers.

  Thank you for tending to us, even when we can’t tend to you in all areas in life.

  Love,

  Mom. x

  “To be honest, I thought you didn’t like us very much.” Katie dragged her thimble over the Monopoly board, her brows furrowed in concentration. The drawing room was bathed in golden light. The rich carpets over exposed wood, Pinterest-worthy fireplace, and handmade crème-and-blue throws made me feel like I was cocooned inside one of those Jen Aniston movies where everything looked perfect all the time.

  In the last couple of hours, Katie had purchased all four railroads on the board and was in the process of acquiring over three houses on the orange-colored group. Last I paid attention, she’d been driving Lori and me to the ground, leaving us with measly small sheds in the bad parts of town and the clothes on our backs. Luckily, Lori and I were sharing a bottle of wine and pieces of gossip about the royal family, which, it turned out, we both shared an unhealthy obsession with. We’d spent the last hour dissecting Kate Middleton’s wedding dress before moving to the grave topic of Meghan’s wedding tiara.

  “Are you kidding me?” I pressed my wineglass to my blistering cheek, enjoying its cool sensation. I was probably slurring. The four glasses of champagne and one glass of wine on a relatively empty stomach weren’t a good idea, but I had to dull all the Chaseness around me. He was a lot to deal with. “I love you guys. Ronan is, like, a legendary fashion icon, Lori is the mom I wish I still had, and you . . . Katie, you’re . . .” I paused, blinking at the Monopoly board. I hated the idea they thought I wasn’t around because of them. Hated that Chase had kept the truth from them and villainized me in the process. “You’re seriously someone I would be good friends with. The first time we met, at Christmas, my dress tore up across my ass. You didn’t even blink before ushering me to your room and giving me something to wear.” A Prada something, to be exact. It had taken everything in me to send it back with a thank-you note. “You’re amazing, Katie. Like, really amazing.” I leaned forward, putting my hand on her arm. I couldn’t tell through the fog of intoxication if we were having a tender moment or an awkward one.

  Her eyes clung to mine. “Really? Because I thought maybe it was me.”

  “Why would it be you?” My eyes widened.

  “I don’t know,” Katie said, so sweetly shy she looked like a kid, even though she was older than I was. Her voice was like broken glass.

  “No, you’re perfect.” I hiccuped. “I love you.”

  Had I just declared my love to a relative stranger? That was my cue to retire before Martyr Maddie became Creepy Maddie and passed out over the Monopoly board.

  “I think I better head to bed. Who won?” I squinted at the board. It was blurry, the little pieces swimming around it like they were chasing one another. I hiccuped again. “Me?”

  “Actually, you owe me two thousand dollars and a house on Tennessee Avenue.” Katie laughed, starting to remove the Scottie dog, top hat, and thimble from the board. I yawned, my eyes flickering shut as I took spontaneous one-second naps between blinks. Somewhere in the back of my head, I realized I was being a mess, not at all the brilliant, responsible fiancée Chase wanted me to be. Screw him. I owed him nothing. As long as his family was having fun.

  “I hope you like fixer-uppers and accept coupons, Katie, because I’m broke as all hell,” I snorted out.

  “That’s all right. It’s just a game.” Katie folded the board and tucked it back into the box as she hummed to herself. She was so agreeable and docile. The opposite of her older brother. Almost like he’d hogged every drop of ferociousness in their DNA pool before he was born.

  “Yeah, well, I’m flat-out broke in real life too.” I snickered.

  Time to go to bed, Miss Hot Mess Express.

  I stood up on wobbly feet. My knees felt like jelly, and there was a strange pressure behind my eyes. Knowing I’d be coming face-to-face with Chase made me break out in hives. I’d tried to postpone our reunion as much as I could, hoping—praying, really—he’d fall asleep before I got back to the room.

  “Not for long.” Lori laughed.

  I laughed too. Then paused. Then frowned. “Wait, how do you mean?”

  “Well”—Lori offered me a one-shoulder shrug, picking nonexistent lint from her dress pants as Katie put the Monopoly box away—“you’re going to marry Chase, honey. And Chase is . . . well endowed.”

  Katie choked on her soda, while I used every ounce of my self-control in order to not break into giggles. “Oh, Lori, you have no idea,” I said.

  Now Katie cackled. It was a sight. The willowy, dark-haired beauty with her hair pinned back carefully let it all out and laughed. I grinned. I wondered when the last time she’d actually had fun was. Then resisted the urge to invite her for a night out with Layla and me. Martyr Maddie needed to be switched off this weekend to make sure things wouldn’t get overly complicated.

  Lori wasn’t wrong, though. Chase was a billionaire. His level of rich was golden toilet seats and private jets
containing sex swings. It was burn-the-money-just-to-see-if-it’d-make-you-feel-anything rich. The scary, jaded type of wealth that seemed wholly untouchable from where I was standing.

  It hit me then that I’d never considered Chase’s money as a factor when we were really dating. His wealth was in the backdrop of our relationship, like a massive piece of furniture I learned to overlook, even though it was a part of the view. When he asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I told him I needed a new heating pad. It was twenty-five bucks on Amazon, available on Prime, with a gift-wrap option included for an additional fee. Chase laughed and got me a pair of $10K earrings instead. He couldn’t fathom why I wasn’t enthralled by the lavish gift. The truth of the matter was I was broke post-Christmas and had really been counting on that heating pad.

  I didn’t want something expensive and useless. I wanted something not so expensive and useful.

  Lori’s comment made me sober up momentarily. I nodded, getting back into delighted-fiancée mode. “Oh yeah. Sure. But I’m going to be very responsible with his money. I mean, our money. Money in general.” Shut up, shut up, shut up. “I don’t spend a lot.”

  “Well, we all know I have the opposite problem.” Katie looked down at her feet.

  Desperately eager to change the subject, I clapped my hands, standing in the middle of the room. “Where is Amber, by the way? I really wanted to get to know her.”

  And by really I meant not really, but it seemed like something I should say.

  Katie and Lori exchanged looks. I was drunk but not stupid and could tell they were doing this eye-communication thing Dad and Mom used to do when she was still alive to decide something I wasn’t supposed to know.

  “She was tired,” Katie said at the same time Lori mumbled, “I think she came down with something.”

  Huh.

  So Amber disliked me. For no apparent reason, as far as I could tell.

  “That’s unfortunate,” I said.

  “Very,” Lori muttered in a tone that conveyed it really wasn’t. Then I remembered Lori and Amber hadn’t really communicated very much during dinner. Then again, Amber had been either busy with her phone or glaring at Chase and me simultaneously, waiting for one of us to spontaneously combust.

  I kissed Lori’s and Katie’s cheeks goodbye and turned toward the door. I promised myself not to read into Amber’s reaction to me. I’d done nothing wrong.

  Other than deceiving the entire Black family, a little voice inside me said. But Amber wasn’t privy to that, was she? Then I remembered she hadn’t seemed sold on my Brooklyn story. Neither had her husband, Julian. It worried me that I may have blown it. If Ronan knew Chase and I were lying, he’d be devastated, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

  I ascended the stairs barefoot. The velvet carpet pressed between my toes lusciously. Everything was crème and navy and powder blue. Nautically rustic, with big pieces of furniture and white-painted wood. It felt almost unreal to be a part of this place. Like I’d cheated my way in. Which, in a way, I had.

  I reached the second floor, holding the banisters for dear life, still buzzing with alcohol. I zigzagged past the hallway doors. One of them was ajar. It was a double door.

  A low, gravelly growl seeped through the crack. “Over my dead body.”

  I froze, recognizing Chase’s diabolical voice. He sounded ready to murder whoever was with him in that room, and I didn’t want to be there when it happened.

  Move along, something inside me whispered. Nothing to see here. Not your business, not your war.

  I checked the time on my phone. One a.m. What the hell was he doing up, and who was he arguing with? Curiosity got the better of me. I leaned against the wall, holding my breath, careful not to get caught.

  “If that’s what it takes,” Julian drawled sardonically. I recognized his voice too. He had traces of a Scottish accent, littered in his words sparsely. Ronan Black’s family was originally from Edinburgh. Julian, Ronan’s late sister’s son, had been flown from Scotland when he was only six to live with the family after his parents died in a fatal car crash on Christmas Day. The Black couple, Lori and Ronan, once said in an interview Julian was the best Christmas gift they’d ever received. I’d read about it on the Black family Wikipedia page when I was Chase obsessed during the first month of our relationship. Julian and Chase grew up as brothers and, according to Wikipedia, were close. Whoever had written this page had been high, because during my six months with Chase, he’d rarely mentioned his cousin to me and never made an introduction. Now that Julian was here, he and Chase acted like sworn enemies.

  “Don’t mistake my devotion to my father for weakness. My focus is on his health and well-being. If something happens to him . . .” Chase left the sentence unfinished.

  I stuck my nose in the gap between the doors and peeked through it. They were standing in a darkened library. It was a gorgeous room, with floor-to-ceiling white shelves containing thousands of books seemingly arranged by the color of their spines. Chase was leaning behind a heavy oak desk, his knuckles pressing the exposed wood. Julian was standing in front of him, tall but not as tall as Chase, my fake fiancé’s shadow cast over him like a dark castle.

  Julian threw his arms in the air, exasperated. “Something will happen. He is dying, and you’re not a good fit to replace him. Thirty-two and barely out of your corporate diapers. You’ll spook the shareholders and drive the investors away.”

  “I’m the COO,” Chase boomed. It was the first time I’d heard him raise his voice to anyone. He was always deadly quiet and in complete control.

  “You’re a fucking thief, is what you are,” Julian bit back. “You proved it three years ago, and I still haven’t forgotten.”

  Three years ago? What had happened three years ago? Of course, I couldn’t very well walk in there and ask. One of the more unfortunate side effects of eavesdropping.

  “He chose me as next in line. He chose you as CIO. Deal with it,” Chase barked, his eyes hooding.

  “He chose wrong,” Julian deadpanned.

  “You have some nerve talking to me about this bullshit on my engagement-party weekend.” Chase leaned back, opening a drawer and removing a cigar from it. Rather than lighting it, he broke it in two and fingered the material inside.

  He was trying not to snap, I realized.

  “About that.” Julian took a seat on a chair behind him, crossing his legs. “As soon as I met little Miss Louisa Clark, I realized something was amiss.”

  “Louisa Clark?” Chase frowned.

  “Me before You. I watched it with Amber. She cried a lot.”

  “I would, too, if I had to fuck you on the reg,” Chase muttered. “Is there a point to your little story?”

  “Your fiancée. She is a Louisa Clark. You don’t truly expect us to believe you are marrying this . . . this . . .”

  “This?” Chase stopped squashing the tobacco between his fingers and cocked an eyebrow, daring him to finish the sentence. I swallowed. My heart was thrashing helplessly against my rib cage. I didn’t want to hear whatever came next but couldn’t unglue myself from my spot either.

  “Come on.” Julian snorted. “Before we were enemies, we were brothers. I know you. This eccentric, artsy-fartsy, quirky-but-full-of-depth chick isn’t your type. You like them severely malnourished and personality-free. Your type wears designer clothes and doesn’t get sloppy drunk during family gatherings. I see through you, Chase. You want to show Ronan you’re good for it. That you’re ready to settle down, have kids, the whole enchilada. And with a normal, average girl, no less. Is that who you are now, brother? Grounded? Reliable? An all-around stand-up guy?” Julian threw his head back and laughed. He stood up, shaking his head. “I don’t buy your sudden engagement, and I don’t buy this relationship. You’re just vying for the CEO seat to get back at me by acting all high and mighty. You can play house with a girl who’s a six all you want, but I don’t for one second believe you’ll marry below ten.”

  A six. I fe
lt nauseous, so much so the need to throw up almost overwhelmed me. I wanted to slap Julian across the face. How dare he put a number on me? And how dare Chase just stand there and listen to this? I was his fake fiancée. In fact, screw that. I was his ex-girlfriend. A human being. He couldn’t let Julian speak this way.

  “You think I want to become CEO to get back at you?” Chase smirked, amused.

  “Why else? You didn’t even care for the job when you graduated.”

  “Oh, fuck you, Julian.”

  “Not if I fuck you first.”

  “Well.” Chase let loose a smile so frigid it made my insides twist painfully. “As it happens, the vacancy for CEO is not available just yet, so you’ll have to sit pretty and watch as my so-called fake engagement unfolds.”

  Unfolds?

  Unfolds into what?

  I’d told Chase this was a one-off. I wasn’t going to start playing the dutiful fiancée part like this was some sort of Kate Hudson rom-com. He knew full well whisking me off to the Hamptons was already pushing past my boundaries. Setting them on fire, more like.

  He also knows you’re Martyr Maddie and will stop at nothing to please others, no matter who they are or how you feel about them.

  It took me a few seconds to realize Chase was stalking to the door. I jerked back, before darting to our room, tripping over my own feet. Once inside the room, I knocked a vase down in my haste to close the door. Not wanting to get caught, I left the shattered glass on the floor, dashing into the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and plastered my back to it, panting.

  A few seconds later, I heard the door open, then the sound of crunched glass as Chase stepped over the broken vase. There were jasmines inside. Their scent soaked the air now, filling it with thick sweetness that seeped under the crack of the bathroom door. I felt bad for the flowers, squashed under Chase’s shoe. My heart had once suffered a similar experience.

  “Madison!” he roared into the silence. His voice pierced the air.

  I winced. I didn’t much care what he thought, but I hated that it was common knowledge I was sloppy drunk tonight and that Julian had thrown it in his face.