by Tara Brown
“I don’t care. I care that they think I am way fucking smarter than I am in a subject I know nothing about. I care that they think I’m somehow lesser because I don’t have any family. I care that they clearly had a path for you in life and you’re using me to stray from it. And I wonder if you ever really loved me at all!”
“Don’t say that.” He clenches his jaw. “I strayed a long time ago. I went to Eton, as was expected. But I never chose politics as my father did. Or as my brother did. I chose to be me, a man of science. I joined the UN out of university and never looked back.” His hands shake a tiny bit, and I can tell now that he fights to not have an accent in everything. He actually tries to sound American. “I need you to understand why I kept this from you. I was preventing you from giving up on me and us. It’s so easy for you to walk away unscathed, but I have nothing if we aren’t together.”
I sigh, fully aware of the weight of it all. The rational creature I am is slowly stamping out the fires built by the silly girl in me. “I know. You’re completely right, I never would have come. I would have hit you up with some sleeping pills and phoned to cancel for us. I probably would have said you’d come down with something. I never would have come here. And I might have never given us a chance.” I redirect all the fight in me. “I have been trained to lie for a living. Now I hunt and solve for a job. I can handle three days of this bullshit. I killed the head of state in Algeria without getting caught when I was twenty-two—I can do this too.” I nod, take a deep breath, and roll my shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
He sighs, as if I have told him the greatest news in the world. “I knew once you processed it you’d see how minor this all is. How it isn’t us and doesn’t actually involve us.”
“No.” I lift a finger into his face as he stands. “No. I am never going to admit this is small. In my world this is some Cinderella-bullshit fairy tale that never comes true for kids like me. This is the crap that movies and books try to sell orphans, or abused and neglected kids. I was one of the few who knew that this shit was never happening for me. Now you’ve come along with your fancy titles, billion-dollar house and snooty parents, and an heir apparent, thank you very much, and fucked up my reality.” I snarl a little at the end. “I already have issues with reality. And here we have you hiding an entire life behind my back and hiding an accent. And God knows what else. My trust in you has diminished to almost nothing.”
“I will do everything in my power to earn it back, Jane. Love you.”
“I hate you right now.”
He winces, giving me a worried look. “You sure you can do this, then? I will make excuses for you if we need to leave.”
“No, absolutely not. We aren’t running away like cowards. But your parents won’t ever know I am struggling with every moment here and every lie you have told me. I refuse to let them see me squirm. If being an orphan has one perk, that’s it. I know how to be invisible and how to blend in.” And with that I turn and leave the room, leaving him stressing.
“Fucking king of the world!” I mutter and send a text to Angie.
Come and find me if this goes badly. I’ll send a 911 and then you send a helicopter. I’ll make something up to get out.
She is instantly typing:
It’s not that bad. His family is gentry. The house is worth Rhode Island and there are slaves everywhere. His dad has a title in England.
She sends a smiley face and adds more.
They always do. That’s just like saying he’s a senator here in the US. You’re fine. Dash isn’t one of them, trust me. I have met his family. NOT MY CUP OF TEA!
I groan and slide my phone into the clutch Evangeline forced upon me. I had assumed it was fake gems, but now I think it might be covered in diamonds. At least I can hock it and get a flight out if that’s the case.
Dash hurries, wrapping an arm around me and kissing the side of my head. “You’ll be fine.”
I nod. “I know I will be, but you should be worried about you.”
He laughs like I don’t mean it, but I do. I really might do a little harm before the night is through.
As we cross the grounds I can’t help but marvel again at the beautiful pergola with the lights revealing the climbing lilacs. It smells like summer in the South and makes me forget where we are. When he opens the door to the dazzling house I remember instantly. But I’m not scared. I have lived bigger lies than this for worse people.
His mother greets us as we walk in. She has a glass of champagne and enough jewelry to cast shadows with her sparkle. She offers us both a kiss-kiss hug-hug, something I still don’t understand and don’t appreciate. Being touched is high on the totem pole of things I dislike. Especially from strangers.
“You look marvelous, Jane. Less exhausted and far more refreshed. I take it you found everything to be to your satisfaction?”
“I did, thank you. The guesthouse is—amazing. A whole family could live in there.” I force myself to use words I think are safe. Instead of “oh my God it’s super nice” or “wicked” or “completely wasteful and disturbing, and why aren’t you adopting ten children from the orphanage?”
She beams, blinking slowly. I don’t know how to respond so I go for the thing he mentioned earlier. “Your necklace is stunning. Very eye-catching.”
She looks down at it. “Oh, this old thing? Thank you, dear.” She offers her arm to her son. “Drinks are being served as the guests arrive.”
He pales but doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Excellent. Jane would love a drink, I’m sure.” He looks back at me.
I force a smile. “Jane would love a drink.”
He chuckles and moseys off to the man with the tray. He brings white wine, as if he doesn’t know me at all, and actually has the balls to hand me the slim glass. I notice everyone has white wine or champagne.
I narrow my gaze, accepting his challenge at drinking something I hate, and take a sip. It’s not the worst and it’s certainly not the best, but it works to give me something to do with my hands. Fidgeting is so unprofessional.
His father struts over, one hand in his dinner jacket and the other holding a glass of champagne. “How do you like Virginia, Jane?”
I nod. “It’s very lovely. I have been here a few times for work.”
“Yes, that’s right. You’re a medical scientist with our dear boy here.”
I smile wide again, not committing to the lie. These people might actually be my family one day, and I will not utter the lie to them. If he wants to be that person, it’s his choice.
“How do you like your work?”
“Love it! I am actually in the middle of something very important as we speak.” I sip and nod. “Very engaging.” What else do you call a serial rapist-torturer who kidnaps and stores his victims and forces them to play along?
“Fascinating.” He says it like he means exactly the opposite. He turns and smiles at his son. “And you, my boy, how is it you are getting on so well with so many distractions in your life?”
Dash is the master of his emotions. He tilts his head to the side subtly and smiles. “I am enjoying the work still, Father. The UN is a wonderful opportunity for someone with empathy and compassion for their fellow man. Jane is actually part of something quite remarkable. The program she is in uses modern science to solve crimes.” That’s about as far as we can ever take the explanation, so my back straightens when he says that.
His father gasps. “Like one of those charming nighttime shows with the DNA analysis and what have you? Are you that type of scientist?”
“Molecular.” I laugh to stop myself from saying the wrong thing. “I am involved in something similar to Dash. The details are obviously restricted.”
Dash frowns, but I don’t care. He’s an idiot for bringing me into this bullshit and an even bigger idiot for making my cover smarter than I am.
“Yes, of course,” Dash’s father replies. “That’s the sort of job that involves processing the grime and filth of society. You must spend imme
nse amounts of time with the rugged classes, up close and personal. How brave you must be.” He says it like he might be talking about something quaint and charming, instead of saying things like classes.
His wife concurs, “That is very admirable in a woman. When will you leave, before or after the wedding?”
I grip my glass, praying to the God of all that is patient and good. “I don’t know.” That is the truth. I don’t know. “I start a new position with the American military shortly before the wedding. Still with the UN, though.”
She coughs a little on her drink. “Before the wedding?”
I nod, giving Dash a look. His eyes tell me I should not have said that. I know I shouldn’t have, but I panicked.
“Oh, we had assumed you intended to remain here for the planning and then come with us to England for the final preparations.”
It’s my turn to gulp. “England?”
Dash drains the entire contents of his glass before forcing a smile. “I hadn’t spoken to Jane about the church yet.”
His mother’s eyes narrow as she turns and faces her son. “Well, what better time than the present?” She walks to her husband’s arm and strolls back to the other room just as a man and woman arrive.
My secretive fiancé’s eyes land on the people with a miserable look. “Jesus, help us.” He grabs another drink and slams it. It’s clear he’s having the worse night, which I predicted and he laughed off. What did he think would happen, bringing me here?
I follow his desperate stare to a blonde with a beautiful face and a stunning cocktail dress. She looks like a model or a celebrity. In fact, everyone in the room does. I honestly want to know who their plastic surgeon is. I hold myself upright as Dash walks to the woman, holding out a hand. She slips hers in his and allows him to kiss the back of it. He rests his lips there for a moment. Much more than I would have expected, and I don’t even have manners.
My entire body bursts into a sweat.
“Jane, I would love for you to meet Melody Astor. She’s an old friend from school.”
Of course her name is Melody, and of course she’s an old friend. From the way her blue eyes rest on his and the way her hand naturally fits in his, it is obvious they were once far more than friends. His face is flushed, and he looks like he might burst.
But he doesn’t get a chance; many more people start to enter the grand foyer. Melody comes to my side, smiling like she knows all my secrets. “It is so lovely to finally meet you, Jane Spears.”
I smile back. “Yes, I am so sorry I don’t know who you are. I mean, I know the last name. Everyone knows the last name.”
She waves her hand. “Oh, please, distant relatives. My family is from England, not America.” She says it like we are all dirty.
“Cool.” I honestly don’t have another word for it.
“Ben and I go back a long way.” Her cheeks flush as she stares at him, clearly reliving something fantastic.
Ben?
His mother points my way as she chats with someone. The woman standing next to her eyes me appraisingly. She doesn’t look super impressed with what she sees. They lean into each other and continue talking, even though I can completely see them and am aware they are judging me.
Melody turns and smiles again. “So, when will you start having babies? Directly after the wedding, like Will and Kate?”
I shrug, not caring about Will and Kate and certainly not wanting to tell her we will never have kids.
“His mother is certain you are already with child and that is why the wedding is on.”
I give her a look. “We aren’t planning to get married until the spring. I would be due by then if I were pregnant now.” I say it more harshly than I had intended, earning a wide-eyed look from her.
She laughs, placing a hand on my shoulder, recovering quickly from the shock of my tone. “Oh, of course you would. How silly of me. I suppose they are just very anxious to have grandchildren. It isn’t as if Henry is in any hurry to settle down.” Her eyes lower.
It’s then that I answer my own question: is the juice worth the squeeze? It is not. This family is batshit crazy, and I am on the verge of tears, mostly because I know it won’t ever work. As much as he pretends they aren’t his life, I can see they are.
I don’t need to be with him to love him. I loved him for years before we ever got together, and I will continue to love him throughout the life he is so obviously meant to have with this blonde who wants to rub that in my face.
I pull out my phone, sending my 911 request.
It won’t even look weird leaving by helicopter here. I imagine each of the guests have several.
The house gets busier, but Angie doesn’t answer my message. I don’t even get a “delivered” receipt. She’s turned her phone off, knowing I would need rescuing? Dick move.
Melody introduces me as Ben’s charming girlfriend, obviously ignoring the ring on my finger. The one everyone’s eyes land on.
I meet a senator, a doctor, a lawyer, a judge, a lady with a ring on every finger like she’s wearing all her jewelry at once. I meet women with such obvious plastic surgery I fight not to stare, and men who constantly stare at my nearly flat chest in disappointment. Melody, of course, has beautiful breasts—the validity of them is in question at least in my mind.
The white wine starts to give me a headache, something that happens every single time. Something that Dash knew when he gave me the glass. I dump it into a plant as I walk past, desperate to find my escape out on the terrace again, with the lilacs and the moon, which has just risen.
I slump into a seat, a very fine seat for patio furniture, and stare at the cast-iron statue of the boys frolicking in the garden.
“Are you hiding?” The voice is Dash’s but then it’s not. I glance up to see the face and eyes of Dash but just a little different. I don’t know what to make of it.
“Yes,” I answer honestly.
“I’m Henry, Ben’s older brother.” His very English brother with a very English accent.
“I’m Jane, Dash’s—er—friend from above the Mason–Dixon line.” I should have said girlfriend but I didn’t. The word felt wrong, less so than fiancée, but still wrong.
“Of course you are.” He chuckles and sits in the chair next to me. “Dash—I haven’t heard that since Eton. He always loved that name.” He gives me a sly grin. “I assume he likes you more than a friend might if he lets you call him that. Only his best friends ever called him Dash.”
I exhale my laugh. “Well, I think he loves the idea of being his own man, and I suspect I help him with that.”
“He has always enjoyed rebelling against the fold.” Henry nods, sipping his glass of red wine.
I scowl. “How did you get a glass of red?”
“I poured it. Sir George insists we drink white or champagne before dinner, and red with it. He’s a stickler for tradition. This is my version of rebellion.” He takes a huge gulp and passes me the glass. I take a drink from the other side of the glass.
“How badly was he broken when Melody dumped him?”
Henry chuckles just the way Dash does. “Oh, he told you about that, did he?”
I shake my head. “Not a word on it, ever.”
“So she told you then?”
I shake my head again.
“How do you know?”
I shrug. “I get paid to read people.”
His eyes narrow. “Liar! That can’t be a real profession.”
I sigh and stare back out into the garden. “It is.”
“It must be hard to read people.” I can tell he’s mocking me, challenging me.
“It’s easy once you figure it out. Take your family, for instance: Your father is reckless, and he’s never been good at doing what he’s told. But he can’t be caught doing them, so he does a lot of bad things on the sly. I assume he has mistresses and scandals, but they’re buried deep—not because he’s smart, though, but because he knows how to work the system. His whole family is made up of
cheating men.” The words hurt on the way out as I realize Dash is one of them. “Your mother knows about it all. She’s smarter than your father is, far smarter. She wasn’t as wealthy as he was growing up. She’s more rigid than he is because she had to learn the rules and doesn’t want any of her poverty or lack of breeding accidentally showing.”
I turn and look at him. “You are like your father in the desire to be a free spirit, but at the same time you are smarter than he is. You have never allowed them to stifle you so you have no need to rebel the way he does. You joke of rebelling, but you don’t do it. You just live according to the rules that matter, the ones people talk about. The rest you ignore and love the fact it creates a slight bad-boy air about you.” I turn back to the garden with a smirk when he looks shocked. “And then there is the ever-fair Melody, who dumped Dash because you and she were having an affair, which is why your brother doesn’t really like you. She loved Dash, with all her cold heart, but you are the heir so she broke up with him, in hopes you would love her back. But that’s not your style. The sad part is that your mother invited her here in hopes of her and Dash reconnecting so he would break it off with me, not knowing how much it would hurt Dash to actually see the first girl who broke his heart. And ironically, she forced you to come in hopes that you and Dash would mend fences, but obviously with seeing Melody here that isn’t going to happen. The wound is now fresh in Dash’s heart, even with me here.” I pause, turning and looking at him again. “But that’s not the only problem with you two, is it? Everything that’s legacy in your family is going to go to you, and Dash resents that a little, I think, even if he doesn’t want to admit it to himself. He doesn’t think you are worthy of any of it. He sees the real you.”
His jaw drops. “Blimey!” He takes his drink back and finishes it. “You are good at whatever it is they pay you for. I hope they pay well.”
