“I want to know I can trust you, Jasper,” I said.
“Trust me to do what?” he snapped.
“To not say anything to her about her relationship with Dale.”
“She lied to me.”
“And you lied to me.”
He pursed his lips. He wasn’t even going to defend himself.
I shook my head then dug his gift out of the bag. “This is for you. I’m going to bed. Don’t come in my room tonight.” I grabbed my other bags and slammed my trunk closed.
Before I could walk off, Jasper grabbed me from behind. “I won’t say anything to her. And please don’t ban me from your room. I need you, Holly.”
I could feel through his pants how much he needed me. My heart was throbbing like his dick. It was too late to resist Jasper Christmas. I wasn’t even going to try.
“Okay,” I barely said.
I could feel his chest rising and lowering as he sighed.
“Join us for Christmas Eve dinner. I want to see your face at the table,” he said.
How could I say no to an invitation like that?
Chapter Nineteen
Jasper carried my bag into the house. As we walked, the fact that he made sure to stay one step ahead of me was not lost on me. We didn’t appear as two people who were doing it and had been doing it often as we entered a living room area, which was near where last night’s party had been held. The space was ginormous and was designed to look like a modern living room spread in Town & Country Magazine. Strings of gold lights were draped around a large Christmas tree, which was minimally but tastefully decorated with blue, gold, and white satin bulbs. Presents all wrapped in the same silver paper lay at the foot of the tree. I was surprised there were so many. The Christmases didn’t strike me as big gift exchangers. But then I realized it was all about the optical illusion with people like them.
“Holly brought presents,” Jasper said, holding up my shopping bag.
His siblings, who were lounging on the heavy and expensive furniture, had no reaction. Asher sat on one side of the sofa and Bryn on the other. She was sipping a glass of wine with her arm stretched across the top of the immaculate piece of furniture. She appeared worn from the events of the morning. Asher’s attention was hailed by whatever was happening on the screen of his phone. Spencer was on the other side of the room. His posture was just as carefree as Bryn’s, but he was drinking something stronger. None of them appeared as if they wanted to be there. I could actually feel their energy. It was as if they had one foot out the door already.
Finally, Asher glanced up at me. “She’s still here?”
“Show her you have some maturity for once,” Jasper snapped. He handed me the bag. “Give them your gifts.”
“Put them under the tree,” Bryn said.
My mouth dropped open. This was not how the gift-exchange portion of the night was supposed to go.
“She’ll give them to you now,” Jasper insisted, apparently reading my expression.
I shook my head. “It’s okay. I’ll put them under the tree. They’re just small tokens of my appreciation.”
Bryn, Asher, and Spencer looked at me as if I had just spoken a language they couldn’t understand.
Jasper opened his hand to receive the shopping bag, and I gave it to him. It felt good to watch him put the gifts under the tree for me. I was also happy and surprised he’d so readily come to my defense.
Asher’s muttered objection was indecipherable. “Can we get this fucking show on the road already?” He stuffed his cell phone into his pocket. “There’s no use hanging around here any longer.”
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Bryn asked.
“Away. And I’m not staying for dinner.” He aimed a finger at Spencer. “You can thank him for that.”
Bryn rolled her eyes. “Gina is a prostitute, Ash. She’s loyal to the one who will pay the most money.” She looked up at me. “Get a glass of wine, Holls. Sit.”
I stiffened, still slightly offended that she wouldn’t at least ask what the gift was I’d bought her. But the Christmases weren’t the sort of people who were taught the joy of the little things in life.
“I’ll get her a drink,” Spencer said.
Jasper threw his hand up. “No, you won’t.”
“I don’t want a drink,” I said.
Bryn let out a loud, abrasive sound then shook her head. For a moment, I thought she was going to pull the covers off her eldest brother’s and my sex affair. She didn’t. And I took note of it.
Jasper clapped his hands together loudly then turned toward the bartender. “Charles, leave us.”
They all remained very still and quiet until we were alone. I felt special to be privy to this private Christmas moment, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t by accident. I believed Jasper wanted me to feel as though I were part of the family, which made me think that perhaps he was falling for me.
Once the bartender had left the room and pulled the sliding doors shut behind him, Jasper refocused on his siblings.
“Let’s pull it together. Our schedule will go on, business as usual. The servants will get their gifts. The charity will be here to pick up the rest of the presents in about”—he checked his watch—“less than half an hour. We’ll have dinner. Tomorrow morning, family pictures.”
“Without Father?” Spencer asked.
“Yes, without Father. He’s sick.”
“He’s dead,” Bryn said.
“What about the funeral?” I asked, realizing I was pushing my invitation to remain in the room to the limit.
Again, that heavy energy blew through the space and settled in the atmosphere like a thick cloud of smoke. But I was in complete journalist mode, and since I’d already started my inquiry, I figured I might as well finish it.
“There’s not going to be a funeral?” I asked.
“We’ll announce it to our friends and family at the appropriate time,” Jasper said. “However…”
Asher shot to his feet. “What he means is we’re going to lie about it. I’m getting the fuck out of here. Tell everyone I caught pneumonia or something. You know, that bug that’s keeping our dead father bedridden.” He stormed across the floor.
“Asher!” Jasper called after him.
His brother used what appeared to be all his strength to slide open the door to the living room.
My mouth was caught in awe as I watched Bryn down the rest of her drink and set the glass on the table. “You know what?” She calmly rose to her feet. “For once, I’m following Asher’s direction. I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not.” Jasper’s voice sounded more like a low growl.
“Try to stop me.” She sashayed out of the living room.
Spencer slapped the back of the sofa he was strewn across, grinning impishly. “By the way, journalist, you should stay out of the tunnels. You never know what might happen to you in there.”
“Enough,” Jasper barked.
“That present Gina gave you belonged to me,” he said.
I was lost for words. I couldn’t even look at Jasper. Spencer had exposed me. Jasper was the one who’d introduced me to the secret hallways. Perhaps he’d trusted me not to go exploring on my own. Or maybe he’d known I would. At least I knew who had searched through my luggage and taken the bra.
Spencer made his exit, leaving Jasper and me alone.
The tension was still thick. He looked at me with something indiscernible in his eyes. It certainly wasn’t lust, and it surely wasn’t love.
“You’ll have dinner in your room,” he said. “I’ll send the servers up.”
I nodded. “Are you okay?”
“You were in the tunnels?”
There was no need to lie. “Yes, I was.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Searching.”
“For what?”
I made a groaning sigh. I knew I had to protect the Preachers. “I can’t say.”
His eyes narrowed to sl
its. “Go upstairs. We’ll talk later.”
I nodded and quietly turned my back on him to walk out. I could feel his eyes on me. I wondered if he knew that I wasn’t going to my room. I had a stop to make first. His sister had more questions to answer.
* * *
“Who is it?” Bryn yelled after I knocked.
“It’s me, Holly.” I inclined my ear toward the door and was unable to hear anything else. Maybe she’d escaped into the dark hallways, what Spencer called the tunnels. I decided to count to ten before entering without being invited in. I arrived at three when the door opened.
Only Bryn’s face was visible. She was hiding the rest of her body behind the door.
“Are you naked?” I asked.
She pulled the door back wider, giving me space to pass. I entered and saw that she only had on a pair of panties and a bra. Her room was a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Makeup and perfume were messy on top of a large dresser drawer. Her bed was unmade. It was as though the maids had never come in to clean.
“It’s like a disaster in here,” I remarked.
“No one’s allowed in my room.”
“Not even to clean it?”
“No,” she yapped, sounding like a petulant child. Bryn Christmas was just as unhinged as she had been during college.
“Well, listen, I’ve decided to stay out of your family affairs.”
She laughed bitterly as she raced into her walk-in closet. “Whatever, Holly.” Bryn came back with a suitcase and tossed it on top of her bed.
“Going somewhere?” I asked.
“It’s too late,” she said.
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”
“You know too much about us. Jasper feels he has to manage you now.” She walked over to a drawer and pulled it out. “That’s what fucking you was all about. He’s a control freak. We’re human. We can run our own lives from this point onward.”
Bryn gathered an armful of panties and bras. She wasn’t in complete control of her emotions. Her anxiety was so strong that it was poking me in the eyes.
“Bryn.” I walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down.”
She shook her head erratically. “You don’t know what’s about to happen. Randolph is dead. I’m not marrying Carter.”
I started massaging her shoulder. “Okay, but let’s take a breather and discuss this first. You know I’m good at that, strategic thinking.”
Bryn sighed then looked me deeply in the eyes. “Oh, Holls…” She gently rubbed the side of my face. “The men in my family are monsters. Get the fuck out of here tonight.”
“What do you mean by monsters?”
“They treat women like shit. I’m nothing but an asset to them. I’m getting as far away from here as possible.” She rushed back over to the dresser, picked up her phone, and made a call.
I had no idea how to talk her off the ledge.
Apparently, whomever she was calling didn’t pick up, so she called again and again. Finally, she whipped her face around and scalded me with her glare. “Did you tell Jasper about Dale and me?”
“No.” The look in her eyes made me lie.
“You better not have.” She put the phone on speaker then took another load of clothes and dropped it into the suitcase. The operator’s voice said the phone was no longer in service.
“Are you trying to call Dale?” I asked.
“I don’t know what happened to his phone. When I get to the airport, I’ll check my email. I have to get the fuck out of this house fast.” She shot past me again.
“Where you going?” I asked.
“LA.”
“Don’t you want me to drive you to the airport?”
She scoffed. “No way. You stay here and keep Jasper off my ass.”
I thumbed over my shoulder. “Do you remember the way you left the room? If Jasper was smart, he’d be on your ass already.”
“No.” She shook her head emphatically. “He’s used to me being that way.”
I sat on the foot of her messy bed as she kept racing around the room, throwing items into her disheveled suitcase.
“Bryn, do you believe Dale may be hurt? Because if so—”
“No. We have a plan.” She closed her suitcase.
“What sort of plan?”
She snatched her luggage by the handle. “I’m not telling you.” Her tone had an edge to it. “I have to go. By the way, what did you get me?”
I was confused. “Get you?”
“The present.”
“Oh.” I was relieved she’d asked. “Chocolates by Dauphine Chocolatier.”
Bryn smiled slightly. “Thank you. I don’t eat chocolate, but if things hadn’t gone this way, I would’ve ordered up a couple of bottles of wine and let you eat them while I drank.”
I was still absorbing what she had just said when she rushed into the bathroom.
“Wait,” I called.
I heard what sounded like a door swing open and then close. Suddenly, I felt that familiar feeling of being alone. However, I couldn’t help but realize that her reaction to my gift was not the one I’d expected. My mother would’ve eaten all the chocolates without even offering me one.
Chapter Twenty
I didn’t know what to do next. Bryn had actually escaped through a passageway in her bathroom. One thing was for sure—my furtive friend from college now made a lot more sense to me. Her life was nothing but secrets on top of secrets with a thousand more piled on top of those. That was why it could never work between Jasper and me. My job was to bring what was hidden to the light.
I stood at the window, looking out over the darkened grounds, which were illuminated by tiny white lights in the trees and lanterns throughout the lawns. I wondered if I should wait until the next morning to get the hell out of Dodge. I was fine with leaving Jasper, sort of. We’d had a good romp in the sack, but that was over.
“You’re still here?”
I recognized the voice that came from behind me. It was Jasper’s, and he sounded relieved.
With my arms still folded, I turned to face him. “I am. At least for now.” I wanted to tell him about how Bryn had left, but I no longer knew with whom my loyalties should lie.
Jasper and I stared silently into each other’s eyes. The time was now or never.
I pointed my hand down at the chair. “Can we sit and talk?”
He hesitated, then we both sat at the same time. Goodness, he was so handsome. However, for the first time ever, I noticed every single line of stress he wore on his face. Even though he was a youthful-looking man, the threat of appearing aged before his time nipped at his heels.
I took a steadying sigh and smiled slightly, hoping my expression would infect him. It didn’t.
“As you know, I’ve been doing some investigating while I was here. However, I ended up with more questions than answers, like the mystery surrounding your mother’s age. I learned she was forty-two when she passed, which would’ve only made her fifteen years old when she gave birth to you.”
I paused, waiting for him to say something. Instead, he pursed his lips as though he were waiting to find out how much more I knew. I understood that the matter of Amelia Christmas’s age had always been called into question. But it was time to drop the bomb.
“My source provided me with a hairbrush that contains your mother’s DNA. I will be able to match the results with other samples I had sent to the lab with all your DNA.”
Again, I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. “How do you feel about that?”
“I feel as though I let you into my house, knowing that you are a top investigative journalist. Therefore, I’m not fucking surprised.” His voice had an edge to it.
“Okay,” I said, unsure of what he meant by that. I readjusted in my seat. “Did you ever know your mother’s actual age?”
“According to you, I didn’t.”
“Well, how old did you think she was?” I shot back quickly, giving him no tim
e to consider whether or not he should answer my question.
He crossed and uncrossed his legs. “Not as young as you say she was. I don’t know. I never thought about my mother’s age. She never celebrated birthdays. The thought of getting older frightened the hell out of her, actually.”
“And what about Arthur Valentine?” I asked.
He sat up straight. “What about him?” His tone sounded defensive.
“You already know I was roaming through your dark Christmas hallways. Well, I overheard you having a conversation with Arthur Valentine. First of all, was it the Arthur Valentine?” I already knew it was, but it would’ve been nice for Jasper to confirm it.
He nodded briskly. “If you’re referring to Arthur Bradley Valentine, then yes.”
I was happy he was being direct with me. “Yes, that is who I’m referring to. What sort of debt do you owe him?”
His jaw flexed as he looked off. “I can’t say.”
I hadn’t become such a good journalist by backing down, and I wasn’t going to start now. “Okay, then why do you owe him a debt?”
Jasper looked at me again. I didn’t flinch. And I certainly wasn’t breaking eye contact first.
“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t even know?”
“No, I wouldn’t believe you.”
His eyes narrowed. However, they had gotten glossier, making it easier to see the emotion behind them. “As kids, we were taught a lot of things. We were never supposed to question the logic behind the lessons. They were just what they were. My father owed a debt to Arthur, a debt I’m still supposed to make good on.”
I turned my face slightly to the left. “And you never asked why?”
“No. You don’t ask Randolph Christmas why.”
I’d known plenty of rich, powerful, and narcissistic men like Jasper’s father. None of them liked to answer questions, especially those that had the potential to expose the skeletons jiggling in their closets.
“Haven’t you ever cared to know?”
Again, he flexed his jaw, which I guessed was directly related to him biting down on the back of his teeth. “I can handle Arthur Valentine,” he said with a snarl.
Intrigued: The Dark Christmases Page 14
