“Suzanna,” I fought to keep my expression from displaying what was happening. “I don’t know if I can comply. It’s the truth. There are too many lies to remember. I simply can’t add another one.”
The tips of Bryce’s fingers continued to dig, pressing the material of my dress into my skin, near my kneecap.
“The truth?” he asked. “You mean the story you’ll tell anyone who asks? Maybe you could remind us?”
The room dimmed, yet I obediently turned toward my fiancé, pleading with my eyes for him to stop the pressure. I reached below the table, yet I couldn’t ease the force. My voice cracked. “Bryce?”
“We’re waiting.”
I couldn’t move away, not without bringing attention to his actions. I swallowed the pain. “What story? You mean the truth that she’s a whore?”
“Who will you tell?” His question was for no other reason than to make me speak, to make me recite his venom in front of his mother.
Suzanna was gone. Not in reality but through my anguished vision. The way his fingers dug near my kneecap sent excruciating jolts of pain through my entire leg. I clawed at his hand, yet each action only increased the pressure while at the same time, his expression remained curious and enthralled. Surely he wouldn’t dislocate my knee… I wanted to believe.
I recalled the story I’d been fed, but never recited.
Letting go of his hand, I moved mine to his arm, visible to watching eyes, and concentrated on him. My volume rose above the blood coursing through my ears. “I’ll tell everyone that I’ve always loved you. I’d tried to fight it. While in California I thought you’d given up on me. I didn’t know that Chelsea was intercepting our messages, lying to me…”
I blinked with relief as the pressure eased a bit.
“Go on.”
“…it wasn’t until I came back for my mother and saw Chelsea with you that I knew.”
“What?” he prompted.
“That we were meant to be together. That I’d been deceived by a gold-digging whore who’d pretended to be my friend.”
My eyes closed and I sighed as he softened his touch. No longer forceful, his hand moved upward, higher on my thigh. For only a moment, the relief overpowered the reality. My hand dropped to his, stopping his progress.
Bryce’s gaze narrowed in warning before turning toward his mother. “Is there anything else you want to discuss or may we take that walk?”
The entire room came back into focus.
Moisture glistened in Suzanna’s eyes as she clasped her hands near her heart. “Oh, oh. You don’t know how happy I am… I didn’t think… I was worried…” She stood and rushed to our side of the table, her movement freeing me from Bryce’s wandering hand.
Throwing herself toward me, Suzanna wrapped me in a hug. “This will work. It will. I’m so happy to hear that you agree. Wait until I tell your father.”
Bryce’s chair moved as he stood. “She does agree.” He extended his hand. “Alexandria, my love, our walk awaits.”
HOW COULD BRYCE spew hateful, threatening things one minute and sound suave and debonair the next? Each word he uttered had me on the edge of my figurative seat, fearful of the other shoe dropping.
Placing my hand in his, I stood, searching for an out. I turned back to his mother. “Suzanna?”
Bryce’s fingers wrapped around my hand, squeezing tighter and tighter.
“Yes?” she answered.
“Have a nice evening.”
“Thank you, dear. I’m more than pleased with your change in attitude.”
I feigned a smile. “You can thank your son for showing me the light.”
Her cheeks rose higher, her gleaming smile radiating true appreciation toward Bryce.
Had she really raised a psychopath without knowing?
“You two have fun.”
Pulling me closer, Bryce held my hand while circling his other arm around my waist. “Oh, we will, Mother. Right, darling?”
In a few short days I’d come to abhor that term of endearment. The way he said it was like a warning and threat, rolled in a thin coat of gallantry. A poisonous concoction sugarcoated to appear benign.
Soon we were to the back doors, the French doors leading out to the limestone patio. Once through and out under the starlit sky, Bryce paused and looked up at the manor. “I don’t know if you remember,” he began, “but I asked you a few months ago why you wouldn’t want to live here and I told you that I would.” He pulled me to his side. “And now I will. Just imagine, one day it will be our kids running around these lawns like we used to do.”
I shivered as the cool chill of the autumn night air settled over us.
“Are you cold?”
“I suppose I should have grabbed a sweater.”
With his arm still around me, Bryce ran his other hand up and down my arm. When he touched the area he’d seized earlier in the day, I involuntarily flinched.
“Don’t do that.”
“What?” I asked. “It’s not my fault that my arm is sore.”
We were to the edge of the steps, standing above the lawn with the lake in the distance. He turned me toward him, purposely clenching each arm. “It is. I want to hear you say that.”
Bile came to a boil in my stomach, simmering higher and higher by the second as my internal temperature rose.
“What?”
“Say it, Alexandria. You did such a good job with Mother. I’m sure you’ll have no problem telling anyone who asks about Chelsea as to what kind of a whore she really is. Now I want to hear you admit that it’s your fault your arm is sore.”
“Bryce? What’s gotten into you?”
He took a step toward the edge, turning us both toward the flight of stone stairs. “I could ask you the same question, but I don’t want to know the answer.” He looked out beyond the lawn. “Have you ever thought about how high we are? How far down it is to the lawn?”
I tried to take a step back, but his grip of my arms increased. “Now, darling, your arm?”
Like the grip of Nessie—the imaginary monster in the lake below—his words and tone squeezed my chest, seizing my thundering heart and smashing it against my ribs. My chin moved upward at his forced encouragement.
“Look at me while you say it. I want to see that you’re telling the truth.”
I swallowed, searching for moisture. My tongue darted to my parched lips as I formed my response. “My arm… I shouldn’t have stepped in between you and Chelsea.”
“No, don’t use her name. Say what she is.”
I blinked away the tears. “Bryce?”
He looked to my bodice, reminding me of the agony he’d inflicted on my nipple. With a sickening grin, his eyes found mine. “Try again.”
The words hurt my heart, squeezing it as if they were a knife, cutting not only me, but also Chelsea. “A whore.”
Applying more pressure to my chin, he cooed, “Darling, this will go much better if you learn when to speak and what to say. She’s not just any whore: she’s mine. Start over and say it right.”
Sick bastard.
“I shouldn’t have stepped in between you and your whore.”
“Go on.”
I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to go.
“Claim responsibility and I’ll accept your apology.”
My neck stiffened. My apology?
My head snapped back as Bryce pulled my hair. “Attitude is not acceptable. I believe your father told you that.”
“I-I didn’t.”
He let go of both my chin and hair and then gently wiped a renegade tear from my cheek. “Don’t cry, darling, you’ll get the hang of this. After all, you’re the one who was accepted to Stanford and Columbia.”
“Bryce, I don’t want us to be like this. I-I don’t… you’re scaring me.”
He lifted my hand and brought my knuckles to his lips. “After what you did today, you deserve to be wary, don’t you think?”
I still hadn’t admitted anything.
“Bryce, I know what you think, but it’s not true. If I’d been with Len—” I quickly remembered not to say his name. “If I’d been with him… think about it. Do you think I’d return here?
“I was with Pat. We went to see my mom. I didn’t sign in. They know me now. I don’t know why they told you I wasn’t there, other than the shift may have changed.”
“The dress?”
“I can’t explain it. Maybe there’s something weird with the cameras. Do you remember that dress that went viral a few years ago? Some people saw one color while others saw another.” I took a step away from the stairs. “I wouldn’t risk Alton or you,” I added, “getting upset. And now…” My chest ached. “…dear God, with Chelsea, I wouldn’t—”
His fingers covered my lips. “Not a name.”
I closed my eyes, allowing my lashes to linger near my cheeks as I tried to settle the mayhem inside of me. “Your whore.” I took a breath. “It doesn’t matter why you think that, she isn’t. She’s my friend.”
Taking my hand, he walked us again to the stairs, this time we descended step by step. “That was one of the problems with California. Savannah has better quality friends. After tomorrow night, you and I’ll socialize with Millie and Ian, Jess and Justin, and Leslie and Hamilton. They never thought much of my whore.”
Each time he said that, referred to her like that, my skin bristled and stomach twisted.
“Of course,” he continued, “you’ll need to confirm all their suspicions. The story you told my mother will do nicely. I’m sure that after tomorrow night, you’ll have it down pat.”
We reached the bottom walkway. With the manor’s lights behind us, the lawn sparkled. The moisture was a combination of the aftereffects of the sprinklers and a thin layer of dew that had begun to form.
Small slivers of moonlight illuminated the lake and fields beyond the lawns.
I looked down at my feet, my high heels. “I’m really not wearing the right shoes.”
“Then take them off.”
As I considered the option, a breeze picked up over the fields and lake. Small waves shone in the silver cast as remaining leaves rustled. I wrapped my arms around my midsection.
“I’m cold.”
With a huff, Bryce removed his suit coat and placed it over my shoulders. My eyes burned at the scent of his unfamiliar cologne. I longed for Nox’s woodsy scent or even Patrick’s divine secret formula.
“There, now take off your shoes. We’re walking.”
Shivering beneath his suit jacket, I asked, “Why? What’s your end goal?”
“My end goal? My end goal is to teach you a lesson, one about honesty and respect.”
“Please, I get it. I do. I don’t need to walk through wet grass to prove it. What do you want?”
“First, walking in the wet grass isn’t my plan.” He looked out toward the lake and then off to the horizon. “I’m sure we can get far enough away from the manor that no one will see us as you keep up this role.” He eyed me up and down. “Second, I’m done waiting. If it means taking you in wet grass or Georgia mud, I don’t fucking care.
“No matter what you say…” He blatantly reached for my core, thankfully still covered by my dress and panties. “…you’re now mine. That means when those legs spread, it’ll be my dick making you scream.”
I took a staggered step back. “Not like this. No.”
“As I said, I don’t do sloppy seconds.” He tilted his head. “But since we’re being honest with one another and you’re sticking to your story about this afternoon, then sloppy seconds is no longer an issue. Right, darling?” He encircled my waist and pulled me to him, bringing our hips together until his growing erection beneath his trousers probed my stomach.
I tried not to stiffen, not to show any outward sign of the repugnance seething through me. I was caught in a no-win situation, and with each passing second, my panic grew.
“Bryce?”
In the light of the moon, his complexion took on an eerie paleness. “Darling, I’m getting off with you tonight.” The tip of his finger grazed my lips. “In your mouth.” His touch moved lower. “On your tits.” His hand moved toward my core. “Or inside your cunt, I don’t care. It’s happening.”
Breath came too fast as panic rushed through me. “Why?”
He rubbed himself against me. “Do you need to ask? You asked me to ‘take it out on you.’ Your wish is my command, darling.” He reached again for my hand. “Over there, by the tennis courts… I’m going to take it out.”
My feet slid on the wet grass, still in my heels. “I don’t want this.”
He stopped, his voice again morphing to cold. “Wrong. You want it. Say you do.”
I swallowed. “Please, Bryce.”
His grin broke through the coolness. “Close. Begging is acceptable. Now, tell me you want me to take you. No, tell me you want me to fuck you. Come on, darling. No, I know! Tell me that you want to fuck me and you’ll do it better than my whore.”
I couldn’t process. The words were nowhere to be found. Neither was air. Where had it gone? I tried to inhale as his fingers twisted my hair. My entire body went rigid.
“Alex! Alex!”
Bryce and I both turned. Like a release valve, the tension fled my muscles as I stumbled backward and took a ragged breath. Up on the patio, waving in our direction were Patrick and Cy.
“Fuck!” Bryce said through clenched teeth. His curse was louder than a mumble but not loud enough for anyone but me to hear. We were too far away.
“Pat! Cy!” I yelled toward them.
Placing my hand on Bryce’s chest, I held him a few inches away. “Please, Bryce, I’m sorry you were upset. I played the perfect fiancée for dinner. It’s your turn. Play nice with Pat.”
He sneered. “I seem to remember that same speech years ago.”
“You two always were…” I shrugged. “…not the most compatible.”
“Well, obviously we have different tastes.”
“Cyrus is a very nice man. He cares for Patrick and is good to him.” Unlike how you’ve been tonight. “Isn’t that what’s important?”
As I turned toward the steps, Bryce reached for my hand and brought me back to him. “This isn’t over. The only positive thing about this interruption is that I’ll get to hear your story again. We can consider this a practice performance for tomorrow night. Remember: don’t use her name, and she’s not just any whore—she’s mine. I want to hear every word.”
“I-I… Bryce, Pat knows her, knows of her.”
With us turned toward the manor, the patio lights illuminated his lips as they curled upward. “All the better.” Bryce leaned down to kiss my cheek. “Don’t mind me. I’ll be the one enjoying the show.” He tugged my hand one more time. “Do a good job. If you don’t, you won’t be the only one to face the consequences.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I hurried toward the stairs and climbed the steps until I was engulfed in Pat’s embrace.
“Problems?” he whispered.
I couldn’t respond with Bryce only seconds behind me. Instead, I nodded and reached for Cy. His arms wrapped around my shoulders.
“It’s been a while,” he whispered. Kissing my cheek he added louder, “Nice little place you have here.”
“Thanks.” I wanted to say that I preferred Nox’s apartment or theirs. I had so many things I wanted to say. Instead, I turned to Bryce. “May I introduce my fiancé, Edward Bryce Carmichael Spencer?”
Pat smirked “Are you sure there isn’t another name in there? I remember a few you were called when at the academy.”
Cy extended his hand. “I’m Cyrus Perry, but Cy is fine.”
Bryce shook his hand, ignoring Pat. “Edward or Bryce. Nice to meet you.”
I guess I’d never noticed how much Pat and Bryce truly disliked one another. At that moment, I didn’t give a damn. I was too happy that once again my cousin had saved the day. “Can I show you around?” I asked. “Or how about a drink? Alton has
an extensive liquor selection in the house.”
“Oh girl,” Pat said, “you had us at can!”
I walked beside Pat as Cy spoke with Bryce.
Soon we were all seated in the sitting room, Bryce glued to my side, attentive and touching. It took a few minutes and a finger or two of Alton’s best Cognac, but soon Bryce was paying less attention to me, and more to talking business, companies, and banking, I didn’t care what they talked about as long as it kept Bryce occupied.
“How about you show me around?” Pat asked.
Like a bloodhound, Bryce looked my way, splaying his fingers over my knee. Turning away from Cy, he said, “Really?” It was first direct thing Bryce had said to Pat. “I’m sure you know your way around.”
Pat shrugged. “It’s been a while.” He winked at me. “Things change, right? And I don’t know about the big plans. I want to hear about the party and reception. Mom said they’re both here.”
Cy leaned back. “That sounds enthralling.”
Bryce smirked. “Girls will be girls.”
Asshole.
Instead of taking offense, Pat rose and reached for my hand. “Tell me, do you plan on utilizing the patio? I’ve always loved the view…”
Cy swallowed more Cognac. “So, Edward, what do you think it will take for that to happen?”
Bryce turned back to Cy. “Distribution is the key…”
I sighed as they continued talking and Pat and I stepped back toward the patio. Once we were outside, he said, “When I first saw you… you didn’t answer… did something happen?”
I turned toward the lake. “It is a pretty view.”
“Little cousin?”
I held back the tears and shook my head. “So much… I can’t. If I do, the tears will never stop.”
His brown eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?” His questions were still coming low enough for only me.
“I suppose, but time will tell.”
“Alexandria.”
Pat and I turned as Bryce opened the French door.
“Come in, darling. I don’t want you to get cold.”
I caught Patrick’s expression, but didn’t respond to my cousin. I turned back to Bryce.