by K. I. Lynn
The sun sparkled across the water, turning the surface into a beautiful golden orange when a hand landed on my shoulder. The dainty yet calloused fingers told me all I needed to know.
She said nothing, though I knew she had much on her mind. After the incident, my little sister had become withdrawn. The spotlight of shame was one she vowed never to enter again. It was a time in which we’d grown closer, something our nine-year age gap had not allowed before.
Of all my siblings, Penelope was the most intuitive, and the simple weight of her hand conveyed more than anyone else could comprehend.
“They’re settling for dinner,” she said.
I let out a sigh as I stood, taking one last look at the lake before following her inside. The table had been extended to allow room for everyone who remained and was exquisitely set. Gold trimmed china and crystal sparkled in the richly appointed table.
All eyes fell to me as they stood, waiting, and it pleased me that none were taking that moment to test me.
The heaviness that lay upon my shoulders had my spine straightening to carry the load of all in the room as I took my place at the head of the table. Once I was seated, my father followed suit before the scooting of chairs filled the silence.
While not Shakespeare’s exact words, the idiom was most apt:
Heavy is the head that wears the crown.
The chatter of my family from the two-story dining room echoed in the gallery as I stared out. Small twinkling lights could be seen on the lake as fireworks boomed, sprinkling colorful bright spots against the dark sky.
The setting was familiar. I grew up in Stronghold, and now I was the lord of all I surveyed.
As long as I married.
As long as I had a child.
I knew there was no way the old man would cross over without flipping me off as he went.
The house was mine. The house of the de Loughrey family.
Now to find a family of my own to fill it.
That thought filled me with dread. I’d spent my life striving to be the best, to excel the business, to expand our horizons, and I was on the verge of losing it all over a fucking woman.
Lavender and linen filled my senses, and the whispered moans in the back of my mind invaded my ears. They weren’t memories from either woman in whose beds I’d spent many hours. No, Bridget and Antonia were far from my thoughts. The ghostly reminder was of a woman I’d spent only one night with. A woman who tortured me weekly, and I paid her to do so.
Ophelia.
The errant thought was as mad as my behavior that evening. No, it was quite insane. The mere flash of an idea had me tilted enough I pondered if I needed to be checked out by the family physician.
Taking her home that night was one of those maneuvers I hadn’t expected. Something about her beauty, the aching loneliness that almost called out to me. A siren in a sea of gyrating bodies and loud beats. Adrift with no one to save her.
Was that why I couldn’t resist her? Why I continued to think of her?
“Had enough?” a familiar voice asked.
I didn’t even need to look to know who it was that now leaned against the banister next to me, though I was happy to have his distraction.
“Am I that obvious?”
Rhys chuckled. “For as much as you are like Aunt Vera, you are equally like Uncle Charles.”
“Except I’m not off hiding in a spare bedroom with the maid. I’m simply tired of the inane babbling.”
“Are you hiding with the butler?”
I turned and narrowed my gaze on my cousin. We were the oldest of the generation, born from the oldest of the previous generation, and saddled with responsibilities that position of birth hoisted upon us.
“Simply because I’m not out fucking every slut at whatever high-end club you are currently playing at does not mean anything. My sex life is none of your concern.”
“Well, it should be yours.”
“Why?”
He arched a dark brow at me. “You don’t have a girlfriend.”
“When the fuck do I have time for something like that?”
He held up a hand. It was a conversation we’d both had, and been given, multiple times. I was tired of the constant barrage about my love life, and more than once, about the threat of an arranged marriage.
Unfortunately, all that had come to a head.
“You heard the will, same as me. The family demands an heir.”
“And where is your contribution?” I asked. Rhys gave me one of his sly smirks that only devils wore. “Besides, my father seems happy to continue supplying heirs.”
“They are not legitimate.”
“You should know,” I scoffed. Being the lethal lawyer of the company, Rhys was the one who drew up all the contracts and non-disclosure agreements for my father’s philandering. Those types were not entrusted to Alexander, the family lawyer. He made certain they were ironclad and that there was no way the mother or child could ever try to extort or expose the dirty laundry.
The consequences for even the slightest infraction were dealt with swiftly.
“At this rate, our mess of siblings will have families before us, and therefore, the company.”
I let out a dark chuckle. “Elizabeth has already beaten us there, and the rest of my siblings? It’ll be a cold day in hell before any of them settle down. I honestly think next up will be Georgiana.”
“My debutante little sister?” he asked, then seemed to ponder. “She is the second youngest of our two families, but also the purest.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a virgin.”
He shook his head. “She lost that long ago, but I will say I don’t think there have been very many suitors in her bed.”
“Unlike Genevieve.” The youngest of our two families was also the most unruly. She failed to fall into line and proved to be difficult to rein in.
“Genevieve is just lashing out, and you know this.”
“Perhaps, but she is the biggest thorn in my side. Now this? Grandfather sure got the last laugh in.”
“You expected anything less?”
“The fireworks are an odd touch.”
A harsh laugh left him before he took a sip. “It’s him spitting from the depths of hell.”
I scoffed at that as the red sparkles glittered against the dark sky.
“Why not ask one of your playthings to fill the role?” he asked.
“Are you actually pushing marriage on me?”
“If not, you know it will move to me, and I won’t be able to fulfill the requirements. It will then move to Hamilton, and if he fails, down to Silas and Atlas. I don’t want the family legacy falling to ruin.”
“Such faith you have in your brothers.”
A sigh left him. “It’s not that, and you know it. Silas…I do hate seeing him when he’s…off.”
“He needs to fucking find a way to keep himself calm.”
“Atlas is trying. He’s the only one who can get through to Silas.”
The twins were brilliant when they worked together. However, in recent years Silas had been exhibiting the darker side of being a de Loughrey.
“Elizabeth would make a fine CEO.”
“A woman as CEO?” Rhys’s eyes widened as he looked out the window. “Look, see? There is Grandfather spewing his displeasure.”
Another round of fireworks boomed.
“He’s gone. We can surely change things.”
“Elizabeth is the only one fit to be an executive.”
“What about your sister?”
He paused and I realized I’d unwittingly hit Rhys’s landmine. He quickly downed the rest of his drink and shook his head. “Georgiana is too sweet. Some days I wonder if she’s a de Loughrey at all.”
Crisis averted. “She’s just found her niche. A way to stand out.”
“Much like Genevieve, and how could we forget the Tainted Princess?”
A groan left me. “This is a problem. What am I going to do?”
He sighed. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, you need to figure it out soon, or you will have no choice but to go with an arranged marriage.”
My jaw clenched. “Never. If I am forced to spend my life with a woman, it will be one of my choosing, not an obligation.”
He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Start hunting.”
Memories of that night flooded in again. The way she moved beneath me. The need that kept me going longer and harder than ever before.
Look at me.
Look at me… What the fuck was I thinking?
Sex was a vehicle to blow off steam, but that night I needed more. Three words that had me pleading for something I had never desired. A look into her soul as I made her come undone.
An act that had me unable to forget her.
A sigh left me as I stood in line, waiting to pay for yet another pair of black pants and a white button-down shirt. That was the problem with working at a high-end restaurant—the smallest amount of fading, staining, or holes of any kind, and they had to be replaced. I’d seen more than one employee sent home because of it.
I never imagined I would spend more on work clothes than I did on regular clothes, but then again, I didn’t care if my everyday wares were faded or ripped or stained. Okay, I did a little, but how many pairs of jeans with blown out knees did I have? Or tees with holes that I wore until the hole was too big, and often I still would just throw a tank on underneath?
The restaurant where I worked, 130 Degrees, was a place I could never even imagine eating at and was lucky for the few scraps of leftovers I did get.
“Ophelia?” a familiar voice called.
I turned and my stomach dropped, but I put on my best smile. “Jennifer, hi. How are you?”
Once upon a time, we were roommates in college, and friends.
She hadn’t changed a bit. Perfectly styled brunette waves, chocolate-brown eyes, and the posture and style of a woman who thought she was better than everyone else.
That had never been something I noticed until I left my pharmaceutical sales position. I didn’t even last a year before I left. It wasn’t for me, despite the money. When I became a waitress to pay the bills, I was suddenly beneath her.
“Wonderful. How are you?”
“Good.”
“What are you up to these days? Still waiting tables?”
“Um, actually, I am. I work at 130 Degrees.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? My fiancé and I—oh, yeah, Luthor and I got engaged!” She threw her hand out and nearly smacked me in the face with a huge assortment of diamonds.
“That’s great!” I said, calling up all the fake enthusiasm I could. “Such a beautiful ring.” Tacky was more like it. Cluster rings could be beautiful, but the one she was wearing was a no for me.
“Isn’t it? It’s three carats total.” She tilted her hand back to look at it. “Anyway, we were looking at venues for our engagement party. Does 130 Degrees have a room or anything that we could hold it in?”
“How many people?” I asked.
“About fifteen. Maybe you could get a discount for a friend.” She grinned.
“I think the base rate for an event like that is about two hundred and fifty dollars a head, plus any alcohol.”
I took a little bit of sick pleasure watching the way her eyes bulged.
“Two-fifty a person? That’s outrageous.”
I shrugged. “I have one customer who comes in every week. His bill is always almost two hundred just for lunch.”
“Well, I’ll have to see what Luthor thinks.”
I gave her the biggest, fakest smile I could. “Sure thing. If you decide to, just drop by and talk to the manager, Mitchell.”
“Who comes in every week for a lunch like that?” she asked.
I knew the curiosity would get to her. The past few years had taught me that some people only cared about status symbols and money. While those were nice things to have, especially the money, there was more to life.
I was also certain that if she ever met Atticus, he would send her running out the door crying in less than five minutes. I’d seen him do it before to some high-society blonde trying to sit with him.
“Just some guy I know.” By not sharing his name and coming across as having a casual relationship with a mysterious, rich guy would just eat her up. I knew her well enough that status and material things meant more to her than people.
When did I become so catty? Oh, right, when I couldn’t be her friend because I was a mere waitress.
“Well, maybe I’ll have to come by to meet Mr. Mysterious.”
“Sure.” I smiled, deciding not to tell her it was reservation only.
Unless you were Atticus or some other major money player.
“It was so good to see you again, Ophelia,” she said.
I waved. “Bye.”
My expression fell, and I rolled my eyes. She was just too stuck up for me to handle.
I started when I found the employee running the cash register staring, wide-eyed.
“Wasn’t that Luthor Anderson’s fiancée?”
I sighed as I threw my items up onto the counter. “Yup.” Of course, she would be recognized. Luthor, after all, was one of baseball’s most shocking trades. A center fielder that just signed a three-year, twenty-million-dollar contract with the Yankees, which was why I was surprised by the ring on her finger and her balking at the price at 130 Degrees. Maybe he had her on a tight financial leash.
Then again, we were in Manhattan.
After a stop at the grocery, a train transfer, and a bus transfer, I was finally home. It seemed like half my day was spent commuting into and out of Manhattan, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. The tips I made at 130 Degrees couldn’t compare to anything near me, and until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life, I was stuck with the horrid routine.
I shuffled into my studio apartment and dropped my bags of clothes on the ground before moving to the kitchen. I pulled at the refrigerator door handle and cursed when it slammed into the oven and bounced back shut.
“Shit.”
I opened the door a little more gently and slid the half-gallon of milk and sandwich fixings in, then let it close. The counter was already cluttered, but by counter, I meant the six inches that surrounded the sink. It was a joke of a kitchen, but so were rent prices.
As much as it sucked, I really couldn’t complain much. At least I wasn’t still living with my mom and my stepdad, Lou. From the moment he came into my life, I disliked him. He brought out the worst in my mother. They were shit parents to the two girls they had together. I hated to leave Brooke and Andrea with them, but I had to get away from being afraid of a man who would smack me for the simple fact that I wasn’t his child. That my mother dared have a child before he met her.
Away from the mother who blamed me for “provoking” him.
I was out of there the second I graduated from high school. I spent the summer on friends’ couches while I worked, and then when college started, I lived in the dorms. Thankfully, I was able to stay there over the summer as well, giving me no reason to return home.
By the time I graduated, I was over three hundred thousand dollars in debt.
For undergrad.
It was unreal.
Thankfully, I was able to get a well-paying job right out of school, making a hundred grand my first year. I had a decent apartment, could go out with friends like Jennifer, save for the first time in my life, and live a decent, miserable life.
It didn’t take long to realize I didn’t have the personality for it. I hated being a pharmaceutical sales representative. I hated being the salesperson pushing something I wasn’t even entirely sure I could agree with, let alone put into my body.
I also didn’t care for the person I was becoming. Being that kind of salesperson colored my soul.
After eleven months and four days, I quit. Gave up my great apartment and moved into a cheaper place back in my old neighborhood.
<
br /> I liked the lab work of biology and chemistry, the science side of my degree, but I applied to dozens of clinical lab technician positions in various fields that never led to any offers. In all that, I found I could use my knowledge with food, which was the beginning of my matching and pairing of different items.
The chef at 130 Degrees was great in working with me, and I helped him sculpt a few of the restaurant’s signature items. It was something I enjoyed, but it wasn’t a job.
Despite my meager living, I was happier than when I worked as a sales rep. Still, I was constantly applying to jobs that interested me.
Even if I didn’t have any real friends, just a few people I occasionally did things with, and I only went on the occasional date, it was better. I was a loner as it was. I always had been. It wasn’t like Lou would allow me to have friends over, and whatever Lou wanted, Mom went along with.
My loner status was how I ended up alone on my birthday last year, and somehow it ended up being the best birthday I’d ever had in my life. It was all due to one man.
Too bad one night didn’t turn into more, but I found that Atticus in the light of day wasn’t the man I spent the night in bed with.
Nearly a year later, he still haunted me. Every single week, there he was, looking as handsome as ever. Every week, those blue eyes met mine, and I got a hint of that man I met.
He was reserved and demanding; everything had to be perfect. The man had no problem complaining about the smallest thing, though it had been a few months now since my name had rolled off his tongue with the dark undercurrent that made my stomach clench in all the wrong ways.
Instead, it was those hollow eyes. Not empty, but there was something complicated in their depths. A heaviness I couldn’t figure out. His dark blond brows were always crinkled in a permanent scowl, lips in a perfect Cupid’s bow, straight nose, defined cheekbones, jaw clenched creating a hard line sometimes sprinkled with a light scruff, all topped with a perfectly styled head of dark blond hair.
Then there was the suit that looked like it was molded to his form, and I knew he was hiding the body of a god beneath the layers. I’d seen it. Touched it. Been with it intimately.
