24
After the rocky start to our fake date, it ended up being one of the best nights I’ve had in a while. The three of us played a raucous game of Scrabble, ate too many Oreos, and Finn even disappeared for a while so Molly and I could talk. Then he drove me home, requested my phone number, and walked me to the front door with assurances he’d call tomorrow. The awkwardness of should we hug or something? was thankfully dispelled by Lizzie yanking open the door, hoping to catch us doing anything but what we were doing… shuffling like teenagers who don’t know how to use their limbs.
At Lizzie’s arrival, Finn merely grinned and waved goodbye before retreating to his car.
I don’t understand him. How can a person be so hot and cold? How can his hard gaze turn my stomach inside out, then melt it through my feet with a different look? How can the asshole who threatened me in a closet be the same person who fist-bumped me when I won Scrabble?
He makes my head spin.
After disappointing Lizzie with only the vaguest description of the best date ever, I say goodnight. Halfway to my room, I change my mind and head for the kitchen for a cup of tea. I’m too wired to think about sleep yet, but I need to be alone for a bit to decompress from the night.
Seeing Molly was both a joy and shock. And as much as my heart feels fuller with her near, her involvement adds one more worry to my bucket. A bucket that was already overflowing.
As the kettle heats, I take a seat at the marble-topped counter, absentmindedly tracing the veins of gold with my finger. Molly and Finn both stressed that we’re a team, that none of us have to face this alone, and though I’d like to believe them, my instinct tells me they’re wrong.
“Why wouldn’t you want them to find me?”
Uncle Ant tapped his temple. “Because of what’s in your head.”
It’s hard to believe Uncle Anthony wanted to take me away because I held the key to exposing the family’s secrets. Not for the first time, I wonder about his endgame. Was he working with someone? A government agency? Why did he think I had something in my head that could threaten the family?
I listen to the hiss of the stove burner and rack my memory for something, anything, that might be what he referred to.
There’s nothing. Just a jumble of memories blurred with emotion. My tenth birthday party, sabotaged by Vivian, who forgot to send the invitations and blamed it on a maid. Waking from nightmares after my father went to prison and sneaking into his office to sleep beneath his desk.
Is it possible to both love and hate someone? It must be. Thoughts of my father cycle between the two; he was all I had. The only parent in whose eyes I saw affection. But there was also anger, disappointment, and scorn. Especially after he was released from prison. He was like a different person. Hardened and cold. Snapping at everyone—Vivian most of all. There was no more gruff affection from him. Not for any of us. There was only an angry, bitter man where our father had been.
“What are you doing up?”
I startle at Vivian’s voice, spinning on the barstool to see her in the kitchen doorway. She’s still in the day’s clothes, a smart business suit tailored to her curves. My heart thumps, audible in my ears, as I nod to the stove.
“Having some tea.”
Like magic, the kettle begins to whine. Grateful for the distraction, I hop off the stool to fetch a mug and teabag.
“May I join you?”
No. I’m flayed open by memories. Too vulnerable to play the game.
But I don’t really have a choice.
“Of course. Chamomile?”
“That sounds lovely.”
As I prepare our mugs, Vivian slips onto the stool next to the one I occupied.
Pull it together, I tell myself, taking slow, deep breaths. You had a great first date with Finn. You’re an ally. An asset. Act like it.
“Here you go.” I set her mug on the counter before her, then settle back onto my stool. Cradling my mug, I blow off the steam and ask, “How was your day?”
“Interesting.” She pauses and I feel her eyes on me. “Whatever you said to Fred Walters at the garden party made a lasting impression. He offered a substantial contribution to my campaign today.”
I vaguely remember talking to the man. Older, white-haired, quick to laugh, with a twinkle in his eye for me. He didn’t treat me like a leper or a sideshow, which made it easy to charm him.
“That’s great news,” I say, smiling. “He was a peach.”
She chuckles. “A peach with more money than Midas.”
My smile grows. “Even better.”
Vivian sips her tea, sighing in pleasure. “I’m actually glad I caught you, Callisto. Now that you’ve had time to get used to being back, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Nerves shimmer down my arms. I keep my fingers loose on my mug as my senses sharpen in apprehension.
“What’s that?”
Her eyes meet mine, her expression open and soft. Even though I know it’s not real, the echoes of the small girl I used to be, who just wanted a mother, perk up.
“It’s about your uncle Anthony.”
It’s a miracle I don’t choke on my mouthful of tea. Still, there’s no way Vivian missed the way my shoulders tightened.
“I want to apologize for what happened after he died. When I picked you up from school.”
She looks down, a manicured fingernail sliding along a golden vein on the counter, a disquieting reflection of my own action. Had she been watching me?
“Rafael told me to give you that envelope. I didn’t realize what was in it—I thought it was a letter from your uncle to you or… something. I didn’t know.”
I say the first thing that comes into my mind, “He told you from prison?”
She nods. “He called the night before Anthony died. Enzo brought me the envelope the following morning.”
“And you didn’t look inside?”
Her eyes flicker up, filled with hurt. “In retrospect, I should have. I never would have given it to you. Of course, I was stunned that they were plane tickets. Did you know he was going to take you away from us?”
“No,” I lie. “I was eight. All I knew was that Uncle Ant had been acting odd for months, but nothing that far out of the norm. He was always eccentric.”
“That he was,” she says wryly.
“You’re telling me that Dad had Anthony killed?” My voice is even, my tone mild.
Vivian arches an eyebrow, gaze sharpening with something I’ve never seen her direct toward me. Respect.
“There was a time a conversation such as this would have put you in tears.” She shakes her head. “Obviously I’m not glad you went through what you did, but at the same time, it’s a joy to finally see your potential come to fruition.”
You never thought I had potential.
“Thank you. Are you avoiding answering the question?”
She laughs, throaty and sincere. “Touché.” Sobering, she answers, “Yes, your father was responsible for Anthony’s death.” Before the words—the confirmation of one of my worst fears—can sink in, she adds, “And I want you to help me find out why.”
Reeling, I ask, “What do you mean? Didn’t you just imply it was because he wanted to take me away?” I can’t keep the resentment from my voice. “Even at eight, I understood what those tickets—and their delivery—meant.”
“Again, I’m so sorry. No young girl should have to face a truth like that, and I know Anthony’s death affected you deeply.”
“Yes, it did. It was difficult to understand at the time.”
She cocks her head, blond tresses swinging gently over her shoulder. “But you understand now?”
Tucking away my horror and grief, I nod. “Am I shocked to hear you admit it was Dad who had him killed? Yes, but only because we’ve never had this kind of honest conversation before. I appreciate the truth, Vivian. I’d like more of it.”
She smiles wistfully. “So would I, which is why I’m asking for your he
lp. I think there’s more to why Anthony wanted to disappear with you.”
My heart rate spikes. “Like what, exactly?”
“You spent a lot of time at his ranch,” she says casually, then shrugs. “Maybe there’s something there that might trigger a memory for you. I don’t know… was there a place he used to hide things?”
My scalp tingles. Looking down, I fight to keep my reaction from my face. I don’t believe in serendipity, but the fact our conversation so closely mirrors my earlier thoughts is eerie. And it means I’m on the right track.
Uncle Ant knew something. Maybe kept something. A file. A USB drive. A photograph. And Vivian wants me to find it. Whatever it is, it’s damaging enough to warrant her request.
I’m not stupid enough to think she trusts me. This is a test of my loyalty, a chance to prove to her that I’m an Avellino through and through. Or, just as likely, an invitation for me to fail and confirm that I’m a stain on the family’s honor.
“Not that I can recall,” I say, looking up with a frown. “Wasn’t the ranch searched after his death?”
“Yes, several times. But I’d like you to take a look. We’ve kept the property unchanged.”
My frown deepens. “For seventeen years?”
“Your father’s request.” She sighs, head shaking. “I always marveled at what a brilliant, complex man your father was, but those same traits made him hard to understand.” She touches my arm, her fingers cool on my skin. “It might be nothing. Just your father’s regret and deep pain over what he had to do. But there’s a reason he didn’t want the ranch touched. Will you try to find that reason?”
I cover her hand with mine. “Of course, Vivian.”
Back in my room, I take the burner phone from its hiding place behind an air vent and text Rabbit. She threatened to shave my head in my sleep if I didn’t keep her updated, but we both know it’s so she can tell the police if something goes wrong. Then I send the same text to Finn, whose number I have newly stored in my iPhone.
Something at my uncle’s ranch Vivian wants me to look for. Will keep u posted.
Seconds later the phone vibrates with an incoming call. When I see who it is, I momentarily teeter on the cusp of declining, then rush into the bathroom and start the shower. Nervous to hear his voice and preemptively annoyed at what he’ll say, I answer.
“Hello?”
“What uncle? What ranch?”
“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”
He huffs. “I think we’re past that, princess. What happened?”
Too tired for verbal sparring, I fill him in on my conversation with Vivian.
“The crazy thing is I was thinking about Uncle Ant just before then, about something he said to me a long time ago. He told me he needed to keep me safe from my parents because of what was in my head.”
Finn is quiet for a moment. “Why haven’t you told me this?” he growls.
Apparently I’m not tired anymore, because I lash back, “I didn’t realize I had to report every thought in my head to you. Besides, when was I supposed to tell you? I didn’t have your damn number until tonight.”
He sighs in exasperation. “Arguing is pointless. You’re taking me with you to the ranch.”
“Are you nuts? No way. I haven’t even asked Vivian about dinner on Thursday. Visiting my dead uncle’s ranch is private family business. I’d be insane to ask to bring you.”
“Private family business,” he snarls. “You know who you sound like?”
In lieu of shrieking obscenities, I hiss, “You’re impossible!”
He pauses. “Are you in the shower?”
Registering the teasing tone, I demand, “Are you bipolar? You have more mood swings than a teen on her period.”
His laughter douses my anger, until eventually my own lips tilt.
“You’re certifiable,” I tell him, holding in my own mirth. “The shower is on so no one can hear me talking.”
“But were you going to shower? Inquiring minds and all that.”
“Are you serious?” I bleat, then wince at the volume of my voice. “First of all, it’s none of your business. Second of all, jury’s out on whether or not you’re a psychopath. And third, what are we even talking about anymore? I’m hanging up.”
“Wait. I’m sorry. Don’t go.”
He sounds contrite enough that I ask, “What do you want, Finn?”
“Among other things, a Scrabble rematch.”
My head shakes in consternation, but my stupid lips quirk again. “You have to be the strangest person alive.”
“I think you take the cake on that one, princess.”
“I hate that nickname, by the way.”
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. The shower scene playing out in my head is pretty loud.”
I make a noise of disgust, but I’m feeling the opposite. My stomach drops, triggering pulsing need between my legs. No matter how hard I try, my body won’t forget his.
“You’re remembering that night,” he murmurs. “Your breathing just picked up.”
I yank the phone away from my mouth, but it’s too late. He chuckles knowingly.
“I’ve tried to forget, too, but you left me a souvenir that’s made it impossible.”
My missing panties.
Mortified, I sink to the closed toilet seat and drop my head forward. My voice is shaky. “That’s creepy and gross. Why didn’t you throw them away?”
“I’m probably going to regret this in the morning, just like I regret most of what I say to you…” He sighs, and I imagine the warmth of his breath on my neck. “I kept them because I wanted a reminder.”
My heart in my throat, I whisper, “Of the mistake you made?”
“No, princess.” The gravelly words make my thighs clench. “Of the best almost-sex of my life, and how badly I want to do it again.”
Like your average mature, level-headed woman, I gasp and hang up.
25
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Miss?”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“I’m so sorry to wake you, but there’s someone here demanding to see you.”
I blink groggily at my bedroom door—the direction Selina’s voice is coming from. “What? Who?”
“Mr. Reid.”
The name might as well be a bucket of cold water. Jerking upright, I swing my feet to the floor and pad to the door. Unlocking it, I squint at Selina. From her fresh face and the light behind the curtains at my back, it’s morning. But it feels like I just went to bed.
“What time is it?” I croak.
She checks her watch. “Just after nine o’clock.”
I groan. “What is he doing here? Did he say?”
She shakes her head. “Would you like me to call security? I would have already, but Lizzie told me you had a successful date last night, and I didn’t want to—”
“No, no, it’s okay. Thank you, Selina. You did the right thing. Tell him I’ll be right down. But you can leave him outside.”
Her eyes twinkle as she nods. “Very well.”
When she’s gone, I open the closet and grab the first thing I see—a deep blue maxi dress and flip-flops—and hustle into the bathroom to brush my teeth, slap on some lip gloss, and throw my hair into a bun, all the while castigating myself for caring what I look like. For caring what he thinks, or sees, or wants. For still feeling the aftershocks from not only what he said last night, but from the intense orgasm I had later in bed courtesy of my own hand.
My breath sits high and short in my chest as I make my way to the front door, and my face feels like plastic about to crack. Thankfully, no one’s around to notice my mostly mental walk of shame.
Who shows up the morning after a date like this? Let alone a fake one. What the hell is he playing at?
By the time I open the door, I’m as irritated as I am nervous. I don’t wait for him to turn around before whisper-hissing, “What the hell, Finn?”
Spinning on a heel, he gives me a lazy smile as those
shockingly blue eyes scan me from head to feet. After a perusal that feels more than skin-deep, he shakes his head. “Cute. Very L.A. But that dress won’t work at all.”
I finally tear my gaze from his face to what he’s wearing. Athletic shorts, sneakers, and a faded T-shirt. He makes casual look sinful, all lean muscles, sun-kissed tattoos, and tousled hair.
God help me, it’s really not fair he’s so gorgeous.
“What are you talking about? I don’t like surprises, and I definitely don’t like being woken up before ten on a Sunday morning.”
His smile only grows. “I’m being spontaneous. You said you weren’t doing anything today. I didn’t have plans, and I wanted to see you, so here I am.” Spreading his arms, he grins through the lies, like he knows exactly how irate I am and exactly how much I don’t want to be anywhere near him.
But then there’s the small matter of blackmail. While I don’t honestly think he’ll go through with it—Molly would castrate him—it still speaks to a side of him I need to be wary of. I can’t forget his rage when he realized who I was, the hatred that seeped from him at the cove that day.
He’ll do anything to put a stop to Vivian’s political career, to bring down the family once and for all. If it ended up being the only way for him to get revenge, I’m positive he’d feed me to the wolves without a second thought.
I need to be careful. Not push him. Let him think he’s in charge.
Which means I can’t tell him to fuck off.
“All right,” I concede. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a secret.”
I don’t bother repeating my stance on surprises. From the glint in his eye, he obviously doesn’t care.
A headache taps hello behind my right eye. I have no idea how I’m going to survive his company. I can only hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll bring me to Molly and leave us alone.
“I’ll be back in fifteen.”
I retreat inside. Finn takes a step to follow me, but I slam the door in his wide-eyed face, then gloat all the way to my room. Serves him right for showing up like this.
The Golden Hour Page 11
