Virtuous Deception 2

by Leiann B. Wrytes

  “Michelle, stop. Wait.”

  “I trusted you!”

  “I fucked up.” Taking her into his arms, he absorbed her blows as they decreased with frequency until they eventually ceased.

  “I hate you,” she sobbed into the folds of his T-shirt.

  “I know.” The fact that she was still behind him was not lost on Armand. Preventing a clash was priority. Before he could make his move, Michelle made hers, taking advantage of his bum ankle as she pushed him to the side. Realizing his error, Armand braced himself for the inevitable. Michelle’s vulnerability, though honest, was a ploy to get him to relax. To give her access to her.

  “Michelle, this is my fault. Let me explain.”

  “Brianna?” Michelle’s usually soothing, smooth Southern tone was broken by betrayal. “Bria, look at me. Look at me!”

  Brianna slowly turned around to face her twin, shrinking into the corner as much as she could, trying to disappear. “Michelle . . . I don’t know what to say. I can’t make you understand this. It’s . . . complicated.”

  Michelle was livid. Her body shook with anger, tears streamed down her cheeks. She was shaking her head in disbelief but accepting it all the same. “Make me understand, Bria? That’s all you have to say?”

  “I can see that you’re hurt. . . .”

  “Can you? That’s my fiancé!” Pointing to Armand, Michelle shot a disgusted eye in his direction. “Was my fiancé. You’re my sister . . . or so I thought.”

  Armand cringed, hearing all the things he had aimed to avoid. Their relationship was still fresh, and he knew Michelle. This would be difficult for her to stomach. She was all he had before this thing with Brianna began. Family was precious, and he sincerely regretted ripping into hers like this.

  “MK, blame me, okay? Don’t hold this against her.”

  “Are you taking up for her? Defending her?” Massaging her temples, Michelle backpedaled away from them. “I cannot do this right now.”

  Brianna remained silent, and Armand felt that was best. Her statements were complicating things even more so. “Don’t go. I’ll leave. Stay here and talk this out with . . . your sister. This was a terrible mistake.”

  “You broke . . . my . . . heart. I can’t breathe. I can’t be here.” Michelle turned and left, presumably back out the way she came, out the French doors in their bedroom leading onto their private porch. Earlier, his moans muted the soft purr of her engine; now, the sound echoed throughout the house.

  He sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands. Brianna stood in the corner a moment longer before disappearing into the guest room.

  How did he let this happen? MK was his partner, his friend, all the family he had. He looked at the silver band on his finger and removed it. His mother deserved a better son; Michelle, a better man. He had shamed his mother’s memory and himself. Pocketing the ring, he pledged to make things right.

  Chapter 18

  “Peter?” Sophie stood, leaning against the kitchen sink, estimating how long it would be before he realized she had asked a question. Peter sat on a bar stool on the far side of the island, facing her. She could tell from the dreamy look in his eyes that he hadn’t heard one single word. “Peter?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.” Peter flashed a big, bright smile.

  “Dinner plans?”

  “I made us reservations, but before we get to that . . . I think we need to talk.”

  Sophie continued leaning against the counter, tapping her fingers along its surface, uncertain if she was ready to have this conversation. Before she made up her mind, Peter swiftly took control of their discourse.

  “This is a little awkward, I guess.”

  As her stomach knotted up, Sophie forced herself to speak. “Peter, this should have happened a week ago.”

  “I know.”

  “If you don’t want to be here because of what happened before . . .”

  “Sophie, if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

  “Then, what is it?”

  “We need to address what happened that night. That’s all.”

  The gentle hue of his words offered very little comfort. Her fear did not seem rational, but her body slowly gave way to the mild tremors of apprehension nevertheless.

  “This last week has been amazing, but I want more than this, Luce.” His eyes were soft and inviting.

  Sophie tried to relax a little. “That was a long time ago.”

  “Not to me. Not after what we’ve shared.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  Peter looked at the woman who’d held his soul hostage for over two decades, the tenderness in her eyes caressing the sensitive strings of his heart. He spoke gently to her, almost in a whisper. “Nothing. I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to listen.”

  “Let’s go sit over there,” Sophie suggested, pointing to the breakfast area of the kitchen.

  Peter followed the sway of her shoulders as she walked to the little nook area, sitting down in one of the chairs. Soon, he joined her, sitting in one of the adjoining chairs. As she pulled her legs into the chair, folding them beneath her, he waited for Sophie to get comfortable before speaking.

  “I tried really hard to find someone to love. To love someone else. Each time a relationship failed, I blamed you a little more.”

  Sophie sank deeper into the ranch-style wicker chair. “Peter, I don’t think I want to do this.”

  Lifting his hand, he paused her thought. “Let me finish, Luce. It was irrational, I know, but the way you left . . . you just disappeared.”

  “I was sixteen.”

  “That never mattered, so don’t give me that.”

  Sophie chuckled uncomfortably. “Peter . . .”

  “I was eighteen, but so what? I knew what I wanted. You turned your back on me. Rejected me.”

  “That’s not what happened.”

  “Luce that is exactly what happened.” Peter’s eyes lowered like anvils into his ocean of truth. His tone echoed his assurance in the accuracy of his interpretation. It was almost like his bravado was made visible to her at that moment; like it colored his naked forearms, blanketed the hairless chest she knew rested beneath his Polo top, and seared itself into the bottom lip he could not keep his perfect set of white teeth from sinking into.

  “I am not going to sit and let you put all of this on me, Peter. Seven months went by before I moved. Seven months. You left me that night. You walked away.”

  “I gave you a ring. You broke our promise.”

  Switching positions in the chair, Sophie fastened her emotions into place. “That was not my decision, Peter. I mean, I did it, but . . . I did not have a choice.”

  “If we are going to move from here. I’ll need more than that.”

  “What more do you want, Peter? I didn’t break our promise. You did!” Her face flushed a cherry red as she lost control. “You left me, and I never heard from you again! I didn’t leave! I never left you! Never!”

  Peter remained calm. If her outburst had upset him, his face did not let on. Sophie inhaled deeply, trying to reign herself back in. She did not want to argue with Peter about something that happened so long ago. He had abandoned her, but she had long since forgiven him. Why did he insist on discussing it now?

  “Luce, what did you expect me to do? That ring cost me everything. It wasn’t just some little trinket. It was a symbol of my love, my commitment to you. It meant something to me.”

  “It meant something to me, too!”

  “Then what happened, huh? Explain it to me.”

  Sophie did not utter a word. Standing abruptly, she scurried off, disappearing out of his view, power-walking down the hallway to the other side of her home. She brusquely pushed open the French doors leading into her bedroom, pausing only a moment to collect herself. She made a beeline for her vanity area, a setup very similar to the one she’d had in her father’s house.

  Opening the slim drawer in the center, she p
ushed her silk scarves to the side and wrapped her fingers around what was hidden there. Taking the small band into her hand, she took a deep breath and swiftly walked back into the kitchen where Peter awaited her.

  “Luce, you cannot keep running. I’m not going to make it easy for you this time.” He didn’t even let her get into the kitchen before unloading on her. “I won’t go away quietly. You shouldn’t expect me to, either. Not after this last week. Not after what I have told you.”

  Sophie gingerly took her seat like it pained her to do so. Curling her body inward, Sophie tried to find comfort in the little distance between her and Peter. The silver band felt warm in the palm of her hand. She stared at her closed fists, contemplating if this was something she was really prepared to do. Technically, that door had opened a week ago, but somehow she knew that after this moment, there would be no going back.

  “Luce, talk to me.” Slamming his hand onto the table, Peter aired his frustration. His nostrils flared, tension squaring his shoulders. “Stop with the silent treatment! It’s not going to work. If you want me to go, fine, but communicate that. Be woman enough to say so!”

  Sophie didn’t flinch. She met his stare, opened her hand, and let the diamond ring fall to the table. As it clattered about, swiveling into a resting place, Peter couldn’t help but fixate on it. It still glistened as it had that night under the moonlight.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat. “You have kept it all these years?”

  Sophie nodded her confirmation, keeping her eyes on the ring, the only piece of jewelry she had kept from the life she forfeited when she walked out of her father’s house. Though it was the smallest piece of jewelry she had ever owned, it held the most the value. She could not have left it behind.

  “Why did you keep it?”

  Closing her eyes, Sophie prepped herself for the moment she had rehearsed too many times to count. Chill bumps covered her arms and legs as she embraced their presence. For the first time in a very long time, she was going to speak her truth. She took a deep breath and sent a prayer out into the universe to precede her admission.

  “I never stopped loving you, Peter. Not ever. That ring was my connection to you.”

  “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?” Peter cast a doubtful eye at Sophie, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table’s surface, struggling to keep calm while he awaited a more suitable answer.

  She winced as the venom from his words corrugated in her center, easily penetrating both flesh and bone to find the softest, most intimate part of her. She squeezed her eyes closed until her tears understood they would not reach her face. This conversation was not going at all as she had envisioned it would. She never dreamt of having her truth met with such disdain, and as vulnerable as she felt . . . this man would not see that tender side of her, not this time.

  “I did love you, but I was afraid.”

  Peter sprang from his chair in a fit of frustration, causing its wicker base to scrape the tile floor. “Afraid? What did you have to fear, Luce? I was the one risking everything!”

  Her body shook involuntarily with the sudden movement, her lips quivering as her soul absorbed the impact of his words. Their courtship had not been without trial. Peter was aware of her father’s antics to some degree. He did not know everything, but she thought he knew enough to understand. Clearly, she had been mistaken.

  “You don’t understand.”

  Pensively pacing the floor in front of the island, Peter threw a dismissive hand in her direction. He stopped to look at her before he spoke. “Sure I do. Daddy’s money, was it? Scared to give up that lifestyle for me. Freemont told me you wouldn’t let it go.”

  Sophie stiffened at the mention of her father. Sophie shuddered as an imaginary wind whistled by. “Peter! Is that really what you think of me?”

  Peter slumped against one of the bar stools with his face downcast, his hands on either side.

  “Money? Really, Peter?” Sophie picked up the ring, twirling it in her fingers as she spoke. “The mirror never regarded you as a friend.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Rising to her feet, cradling the ring in her fist, she slid across the tile toward Peter. Taking residence on the stool nearest him, she grazed his leg with her knee as she turned her body inward, resting her arms on the island’s marble surface.

  The quiet dispelled the air, suffocating them both as they tried to maneuver through it into the perfect words. Sophie peeked at Peter from the corner of her eye and caught him staring at her. Sensing his urge to turn away, she swiveled her body into his gaze, gently requesting he follow suit with a dubious hand on his thigh. Honoring her request, Peter faced her, adjusting his long frame into a more comfortable position.

  Holding time, Sophie waited until she had his undivided attention before speaking. Running a manicured finger along his profile, Sophie released the last of her anxiety, pushing the tension into the thin layer of air between her skin and his, losing it to the comfort gained from their contact.

  Turning into her touch, he covered her hand with his, briefly kissing her palm. He inhaled her scent and lifted his gaze to meet hers.

  “Oh, Peter. I never saw the poor boy the mirror reflected back to you. Not once. You meant everything to me.”

  The energy in the room shifted once more as Peter stewed on her words. Swallowing a bit of truth, Sophie fell silent. She was no longer that little girl he left swaying under the moonlight all those years ago. Life had matured her, changed her in even the most basic ways. Peter may have elevated himself socially, catapulting himself into the successful doctor he was, but there was still some very important part of him trapped inside that young boy.

  “Many times I picked up the phone to call.” Peter carried his gaze up into hers, holding her thoughts captive. Pulling her hand down into his lap, he held it, caressing her skin. “Seemed like you had moved on overnight. It was like we didn’t even happen.”

  “Peter, it isn’t what you think. That’s not what happened.” Corralling her body into his space, she rested her forehead against his. “You were my champion. I loved you.”

  “The ridicule before us hurt, but after . . . I was the guy that lost you to him. I couldn’t handle it. I ran, found refuge on the East Coast. Returned with something to prove.”

  Mingling her fingers in his hair, eventually grasping his profile, she brought his face up meet hers. “To prove to whom?”

  Tension filled the room and funneled inward, swirling between them. Peter’s face grew warm in her hands. A dubious smile crept into his face. As he parted his lips to respond, Sophie covered his lips with hers.

  Chapter 19

  Her legs stopped at the door. It was not a graceful, organic stop, but the kind of stop a brick wall provides when some poor, inattentive soul crashes into it running full speed. If her heart had not already suffered a break beyond repair, this scene would have certainly done the trick. Dozens of frames flowed through her mind, none of them quite as shocking as the one playing out before her eyes.

  The slight rattling of the slender brass knob she held in her hand echoed in her ears, expediting the countdown that had begun the minute she pulled into the driveway. She took long, gulping breaths like a sprinter at the end of the race for an Olympic gold. Her eyes fluttered like the shutter of a camera’s eye, capturing every heartbreaking detail. She descended into the fury percolating around her midsection, and she feared there was little she could do to stop it.

  But perhaps it was not too late to change directions, to stop the bomb from exploding. Her presence had not yet been detected. Departing seemed like a plausible solution, but as the images multiplied, crowding out all other thoughts, she knew she couldn’t. The obscene photograph of her fiancé forking her sister hung unhinged, frozen in her mind, baiting her. She had walked away from that situation; she could not walk away from this one.

  The rage swirled around her, enveloping her into a cyclic whirlwind. Her lips quivered as the hurt
and anger mangled within. Erupting, snatching the French door open with a thunderous bang as it slammed into the house, she stormed inside.

  “Michelle!” Abruptly breaking their kiss, Sophie stumbled backward away from Peter, sending her stool crashing to the floor with her on top of it. Ouch, goodness. Grunting, Sophie waved off Peter’s assistance, using the island’s edge to return to her feet. Clumsily brushing the imaginary dirt from her blouse, Sophie shot a quick, tattered glance at Peter. “This is quite a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you, but it’s . . . uh, good to see you.”

  Michelle ignored her mother’s futile attempts at conversation, not seeing the need for pleasantries. “Who is this?”

  Sophie hesitated with her answer, briefly looking to Peter.

  “Why are you looking at him? I asked the question!”

  Stretching her hands towards the high ceiling in her kitchen in her defense of herself, Sophie launched into an explanation of sorts, trying her best to appease Michelle yet keep her business to herself. “I will be happy to explain all of this to you.” Mindlessly fiddling with her blouse and tugging at her leggings, Sophie was a not like the calm mother Michelle was accustomed to seeing.

  Michelle tried to quiet the storm brewing in her mind, but if her mother provided anything other than the truth, she knew she’d explode. “I’m listening.”

  Swinging her twitching eyes from Michelle to Peter, Sophie took an audible breath before speaking again. “Great. Go pull the door closed.”

  Michelle did not move.

  “Sit down there.” Sophie motioned to the breakfast nook area. “Or over here by the island, wherever is fine. Let me get a glass of lemonade for you. I have a fresh pitcher.”

  Michelle felt any patience she might have had dissipating with each step her mother took toward the cabinets where the cups were kept. It was not lost on her that she took the scenic route either. If her intention was to pull Michelle’s attention away from this man, she had failed miserably. Michelle could not be distracted. If anything, this song and dance only made this situation less tolerable.