by R. K. Lilley
I couldn’t, not when I’d seen firsthand the way they looked at each other.
Estella arrived at our row next, and she hugged me and the untouchable Bianca.
I knew what that was about. Frankie had me well versed in BDSM etiquette. Estella and Bianca were both subs, which made all the difference when it came to friendly, casual touching.
Estella sat next to Frankie who sat beside James, who took up possessive residence on Bianca’s other side, his arm thrown over her shoulders. You couldn’t have slid a credit card between the two of them, he was plastered so close to her.
And then there was me, on the end of the chain, watching as Tristan got felt up at a funeral.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
James leaned forward, aiming his electric gaze in my direction. Of course, he looked good in black. James looked amazing in everything. “He holding up okay?” he asked me.
I nodded, eyes wide.
“Are you holding up okay?” he questioned, looking concerned.
I nodded. “I didn’t even know Tony.”
“That’s not what I meant. In general, are you okay?”
My mouth twisted ruefully, but I just nodded. I had to bite my tongue to keep from making any comments about what was going on in the front row.
But seriously, it was ridiculous. Mona was as plastered to Tristan as James was to Bianca. And there was so much ownership in it, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, as though she did it every day, as though he was hers.
Tristan had his arm around her, and seemed to just be taking it in stride as she nuzzled into his chest. I didn’t even think she was crying, so it looked more like canoodling than it did mourning.
I told myself I’d never lost a father, hell, never even had one to lose, so I could hardly decide what form Mona’s grief should take.
Even so, I was upset, and that upset was growing into something stronger by the second.
I must have been showing some outward sign of what I was feeling, because Bianca, who was not normally demonstrative, reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it comfortingly.
Tristan kept turning his head, trying to catch my eye, but every time he did it, I looked away, pretending to pay attention to the ongoing eulogy speech by Tony’s tearful wife.
Finally, I stopped glancing their way altogether, which is how I should have handled things from the beginning.
Finally, Tristan got up to say a few words, going largely over Tony’s mentorship and career and how it had affected his own life and work.
It was a touching speech, and I marveled at how polished he was at public speaking. When I’d first met him, he’d been a good performer, but I thought this new articulate speaker part of him must have come from performing in front of a large audience five nights a week.
All of Tony’s grown children, of which there were four, got up and spoke briefly about what they had most enjoyed doing with their father. It was all very moving.
Even Mona’s story about how she’d grown up to become a magician’s assistant because of her father’s influence was quite touching.
His children seemed to genuinely adore him, and a man couldn’t ask for a better sending off.
I stayed with Bianca and James after the ceremony was done. Tristan made it over to us eventually, still with a clinging Mona glued to his side.
Tristan opened his mouth, to say something to me, I presumed, when Mona opened hers, speaking before he could. “Tristan, will you ride with the family to the reception? My mother wanted me to ask you. It would mean a lot to us, in our time of need.”
She looked at me while she said it, and I had a hard time thinking nice thoughts about her as she stared at me and made a guilt-play for the love of my life.
Tristan sighed, expression neutral. “Do you mind riding with the family, Danika?” he asked.
Oh, Lord, I didn’t want to do that.
“She can come with us,” Bianca butted in quietly. There was something about her that made it so hard to tell her no, possibly because she never spoke up unless she meant to follow through. I’d seen her do it with James several times, and once she made up her mind about something, she was un-budgable. “We’ll see you there.”
Tristan’s jaw clenched briefly, and he stared at me for one pregnant pause before he nodded.
As I made my way slowly, arm in arm with Bianca, out of the building, I had to wonder if he’d really be riding with the ‘family’ or if Mona would use this as an excuse to get him to herself. I wouldn’t put it past her.
The intimidating Cavendish security detail ushered us from the building to the car.
Bianca patted my hand after we’d become comfortably ensconced in their limo. “Mona can only use this for one day. One day to make this play of hers. It’ll pass.”
“They work together several nights a week,” I shot back quietly, acutely aware of the fact that I did not want to be having this personal discussion in front of James. But I just couldn’t seem to keep it in. If I didn’t talk about, I felt like I’d burst.
“Whether she’s around or not, she’ll only be able to milk the guilt-trip for so long.”
“You saw that too, right? That’s totally what she’s doing.”
“Yes,” she said simply. “Want my advice?”
I nodded, fascinated. James was silent for our exchange, doing something on his phone, one proprietary arm thrown around Bianca’s shoulders.
“She wants him, you have him. Don’t give him away. Fight for him. Stake your claim.”
“You think he’d just go for her if I don’t fight? I don’t want a man that’s that easy to lose.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. In fact, I know he wouldn’t. What I mean is, you need to show him that he’s worth fighting for; that you’d never give him up. Don’t you think it’s about time for that?”
I didn’t have the answer for that, but I certainly burned some calories stressing about it.
The reception was held at the Biello mansion. The property was huge, but it was still a crush inside.
The interior decor was pretty much exactly what you would picture when thinking of an old Vegas magic act’s house in Viva Las Vegas. Lots of white and gold, and hell, even pictures of white tigers.
I found almost right away that it was best just to stick close to James and Bianca. The crowds parted for them, which was good, because there was no telling what an obsessed James would do if, God forbid, someone accidentally bumped into Bianca.
We hadn’t exactly rushed there, but it was a full hour before I spotted Tristan, and it was as he came through the front door, Mona on his arm. They had only just arrived.
An entire hour later.
I told myself they must have just been held up at the funeral home. I had to tell myself that, or I would have started screaming and throwing things, and I wouldn’t have stopped.
He hadn’t even spotted me yet, but I turned my back on him.
Bianca’s eyes were sympathetic as they met mine.
“Tell me, am I overreacting? Am I being selfish and insensitive right now?”
“It’s a bad situation. I think you’re doing your best. James is almost done making rounds. You want to catch a ride with us? I could abscond with you to my painting studio, again. I’ve been wanting to start on that painting with you that I was telling you about, with the yellow scarf, and you could vent at me to your heart’s content.”
That was tempting. There was nothing I’d have liked better than to slip away before Tristan even saw me, and spend the afternoon with Bianca in her peaceful studio. I loved that studio. And I could undoubtedly use a good venting session.
“I would love that, but I did promise Tristan I’d stay close for the next few days, for moral support. Still, it’s not like he needs me right this second, and he could be here all day. Let me talk to him and see.”
I bit the bullet and approached him.
Mona was just holding his arm now, one big fake tit pressed into
his bicep. It was still a vast improvement over what she’d been doing before, which had been just shy of dry humping him in public.
They were talking to another couple, people I didn’t recognize, but I approached anyway.
“Tristan,” I said quietly.
He started and looked at me. He seemed off, some stiffness in his expression cluing me in that something was wrong.
“Hey, I’m taking off with Bianca, but maybe I’ll catch you later tonight, okay?” My words came out stilted, almost cold, which hadn’t been my intent at all. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.
He started trying to pry his arm out of Mona’s death grip. “Excuse me,” he told her. “I need to talk to my girl.”
She let him go, giving me very solid eye contact. I never could read her. I’d considered briefly that she might be high, with the way she’d been acting, and everything else that was going on, but looking at her up close, I didn’t think it was that. Still, she seemed just as off as Tristan did. Something had definitely happened between the funeral and the reception.
I dreaded figuring out what.
“Hurry back,” she told him in a breathless voice.
I had to bite back a response to that.
Tristan tugged me down the nearest hallway and into a small sitting room that somehow didn’t have any occupants. He shut the doors behind us, but there was no way to lock them.
“You’re upset,” he began quietly.
I shook my head, though he wasn’t wrong. “I don’t think you need me here, in fact, I think it would be better if I left and leaving with Bianca seemed like the best solution.”
“I do need you here, and I know it’s tedious, but it would be really nice if you would just stay by my side.”
“Your side’s been occupied.”
He rubbed his temple while I began to pace around the room. “Yet another reason I’d like you to stay close. She’s…not herself today, and I would like to discourage her without making her day any worse than it already is.”
“You want me to, what, stake my claim?”
“That would be nice, yes. What would be really nice is for you to mean it.”
Ha. That really wouldn’t be a problem. “Oh, I can do that.”
He started moving to me, and I had to stifle the urge to start backing away. I didn’t want him to touch me until I knew what he’d been up to between the funeral service and here.
“So you rode over here with the entire family?” I asked him, watching his face very carefully.
He grimaced, and I tensed up. “No. Mona set it up so it was just she and I in a limo.”
Well, at least he hadn’t tried to cover that up.
“Did you fuck her?”
He didn’t take that well, which was understandable, because I hadn’t meant it well.
I didn’t really think it was a possibility, but I couldn’t seem to keep it in. I had to vent somehow, or I’d go nuclear. Even so, I regretted saying it instantly. This was not the time or the place.
His nostrils flared, his eyes gone wild. “Is that a serious question?”
I chewed on my lip, reluctantly admitting, “No.”
“Good. And no, I stayed far away from her.”
He finally had me backed into a corner when he cupped my face in his hands.
“This is why you don’t sleep with the daughter of a close friend,” I told him. I was angry about that, how his naiveté could potentially harm what we had, what we were still trying to build into something. “Especially one that you work with. What were you thinking?”
“I was a fool, clearly, but she didn’t present herself as she is now. She was, I don’t know, the opposite of you. She’s not a relationship girl, or so I thought. She always tried so hard to prove that she was just the cool chick and just as disinterested in having anything serious as I was. She was all too happy to volunteer for fuck buddy status. It made sense at the time. None of it is an excuse. I was an idiot.”
Yep, I was done with that line of conversation. I tried to pull my face out of his hands, but he wasn’t having it.
He bent down to me. “Stay by my side. Stake your claim.”
“That’s just what Bianca told me to do.”
“Well, aside from her taste in too pretty men, she’s a smart girl.”
That got a small smile out of me, as though he took that as permission, he brushed his lips against mine.
I gripped his wrists, whether to keep them where they were, or push them away, I wasn’t sure.
He took my mouth softly, in slow, drugging pulls, running his velvety tongue very slowly along my lips, begging for entrance.
With a small moan, I opened for him.
“Do it, Danika. Claim your man,” he pulled back to murmur against my mouth.
I wasn’t proud of it, but I let him have me, quick and fierce against the wall.
We were straightening our clothes when Mona opened the door. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. She just wanted us to know that she knew what we’d been up to.
I felt bad. I’d just participated in making her bad day worse.
A few days later, I couldn’t believe I’d ever had a kind thought about the woman.
Always trust your gut, even when it makes you feel like a total bitch.
That’s what I learned from Mona.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
I was at work, minding my own business a few days later when a smiling Mona came waltzing into my gallery.
Every time I saw that smile, I became more certain that there was just something wrong with it.
“Is it about time for your shift to end?” she asked, her tone pleasant enough but lacking any inflection. Her eyes were sort of glazed over and vacant.
Curiouser and curiouser.
Even so, I didn’t really want to know where this was headed.
I sighed. I still felt bad about what she’d been through with her dad, so I’d be humoring her. “I run the place. I can leave any time I want. I take it you wanted to talk again?”
She nodded. She was just off. I wondered if she’d taken something, but I didn’t know her enough to be able to tell for sure.
“I’ll meet you at that bar, Twist, when I’m done.”
She left.
I finished up with a few things, and then tasked Sandra with closing up in thirty minutes. I headed to Stephan and Javier’s bar with the hope that I could get rid of Mona quickly and then just hang out with the guys.
Stephan saw me coming and came to greet me with a big hug, kissing both of my cheeks. “Finally, you come to see us.”
Javier followed closely behind him, and we had a quick love sesh.
“Come sit at the bar, chat with us. Tell us what’s going on with you.” Javier wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Because we’ve been hearing some things.”
“Hell, we’ve been seeing some things,” Stephan added, referring, I knew, to the baby shower.
I scanned the plush lounge area for Mona and sighted her easily enough. “I’ve got to talk to someone real quick, and then I’ll be right there.”
I excused myself, knowing they’d have a million questions for me to answer about this in about five minutes.
I sat down next to Mona on a plush white leather couch. Next to, as in three feet away.
“We need to talk,” she began.
I had to make a concerted effort not to roll my eyes. “Shoot.”
“I just want you to answer one question for me.”
I studied her, finding nothing in her face or her demeanor that I understood. I never had. “Just ask it. Enough with the drama.”
“Are you in love with him? Just tell me that.”
I shook my head. “I’m not doing this. Nope, not doing it. I don’t know where on this earth you got the idea that I owe you answers about Tristan and I, but that is not the case.”
“I am. In love with him. No hesitation here. Your turn.”
I wanted to slap her. I felt my uppe
r lip trying to shape into a snarl, and I had to take a few careful moments to smooth it out. “There was a six year window. I’m not sure when you came into the picture for him, but that was the window. That’s how much time you had to make your I love you matter for him, for it to be enough. That window is closed, and I am sorry for you, but if he didn’t love you before, I can promise you that he will never love you now. Is that a good enough answer for you?”
There it was. The thing I’d been looking for, and if I was honest, hoping for, since I’d first met her.
Perhaps I’d driven her to it; perhaps she’d been hiding it all along. Needless to say, I preferred the latter.
But did it matter? No.
The point was, the ugly from inside of her spilled out, contorting her face, her kind smile shaping into a hateful sneer, eyes gone bright with edgy fury.
She pointed a shaking finger at me. “You think you own him? You think you’ve had some invisible hand on him, through it all, but he was doing just fine until you came back into his life. Just fine, until you sabotaged his life again, with that pathetic limp, and those fucking manipulative guilt trips of yours.”
“I’m going to stop you right there. You’re going to keep going on with this rant and it is not going to matter. Whatever you had with him, it doesn’t have the power to affect what he and I have. So go on. Go. Get on with your life, because you don’t have the power to influence mine.”
She gave me the most bitter smile. No, not bitter.
Triumphant.
That worried me, and I felt my heart rate accelerating with more than my temper. Dread swirled deep in my belly. I watched her mouth, fearing what she would say before she even fucking said it.
And then she proved me so very wrong, because she could affect Tristan and me. In fact, she could destroy us with two short sentences. Just five little words.
“I’m pregnant. It’s his baby.”
My mind reeled. I don’t know how long I just stood there in stunned, unadulterated horror, but she was still sitting there when I came out of it.
“So now you’ll try to trap him with a baby.” Disgust dripped from my voice. For her, for him, for all of us.
