It hit me just as she spoke up again, in a small, fragile little voice that made me wish I hadn’t been so hard on her.
"I'm going to see my dad," she admitted. "My mom doesn't let me go to the prison, but I don't care. He's still my dad, no matter what everyone thinks he's done."
I contemplated her words, unsure of what to do about the situation. On the one hand, the man she was going to visit was accused of killing my mother. My dad and her own mother would have a coronary if they knew what she was up to.
But the other part of me, the bad one, was excited about this. The prospect of doing something so wrong, so forbidden, and helping Chloe too... I wanted to spend more time with her. Get closer to her so I could get inside her head. I ignored the third part that was telling me what a jackass I was and grinned at my new stepsister. Well, almost-stepsister.
"All right," I said. "I’ll take you."
"Take me where?" she asked with her eyes wide and furious, finally looking back up at me. "Wait, no! You can't take me to the prison! Our parents would lose it, Asher. And it’s my father. Why would you want to take me to see him after what they say he did to your mother?”
"I don't know if you've noticed," I said. "I kind of like going against the grain. And pissing off my father is a bonus I'll gladly accept. Come on, let's get in my car."
I started walking away, and I didn't hear her footsteps falling into place behind mine, so I looked over my shoulder to see what was keeping her. She was glued to the spot, her big eyes following me. She was biting her bottom lip nervously.
"And what if I don't?" she asked, raising her head petulantly. "I don't want to go with you. I want to go alone."
I turned on my heel and walked back to her, tipping her chin back. She let me as easily as if I were her lover, and it made me twitch wildly in my pants. "Well, if you don't," I said, my breath a whisper against her cheek. "I'm just going to have to tell your mother what you're up to, princess."
She grumbled in protest, but I merely laughed and moved away. I extended a hand to her and she glared at me angrily before ignoring it completely. She walked toward the garage, though, and I knew I had her. I grinned to myself and followed her.
"I hate this," she muttered once I caught up to her. "I hate you, Asher. I really don’t understand why you’re such a dick to me. I haven’t done anything to you other than rightfully tell you to go fuck yourself.”
"Oh, you hate me?" I asked with raised brows, acting like I was actually hurt. "Boo-fucking-hoo, Chloe. And I don't believe you, by the way."
We reached the car I'd chosen, an Aston Martin—my prized possession—and she actually stomped her foot on the ground in protest, making me grin as I unlocked the doors.
"Well, it’s true. I do hate you," she said.
I winked at her. “Sure.”
"I do!" Her eyes were intense and turning darker as I approached her. I pushed her against the garage wall easily, and she leaned against it willingly.
"You're saying one thing," I said gently, pushing her hair off her now-naked shoulders. "But your body is telling me another. Just like before."
I gently trailed my fingers down her collarbone, between her tits in her pretty dress. She gasped once I hit her thighs, and I wrapped them around her leg, gently raising it up. She wrapped it around my waist without being prompted and I grinned at her.
"What a little liar, Chloe," I said softly.
"Screw you," she whispered, but her breath was heavy with desire, and we both knew it.
"Gladly," I replied, and my fingers went back to my favorite spot between her legs. She gasped so loudly it made me wonder just how badly she really wanted this. "Not yet though, princess. I want you begging for it."
She glared at me, but I ignored it. "You say you hate me," I muttered against her skin, my fingers gently gliding along her soaked panties, making her let out ragged breaths. "But you're fucking soaked, Chloe. If you hate me so much, why are you so damn wet?"
"I..." She blushed and looked away, and I chuckled, moving back just an inch. Right away, she pulled me back tight against her body with her leg still wrapped around my hips.
"Such a bad liar." I teased her, pushing down on her pussy lips and making her moan so sensually it nearly made me pull my cock out and fuck her on the spot. But no, I needed to be patient. I was going to savor her like the treat she was.
I moved away from her, and she nearly crumpled to the ground when I did so. Without giving her so much as another look, I walked around and climbed into the driver's seat of the car while Chloe composed herself.
"Come on," I called out to her, revving the engine and opening the garage door. "I don't have all fucking day here."
She got in the car silently, and I chuckled low in my throat as she sat beside me. She crossed her arms in front of her body protectively and I didn't say another word as I reversed out of the garage and headed down the driveway.
This was going to be an interesting afternoon.
Eight
Chloe
We drove in complete and utter silence. Not even the radio was on. I settled back in my seat and stared out of the window, watching the rolling hills go by and observing the way the thick green grass gave way to yellowing summer stalks as we entered a rural inland part of the state. Tilen Penitentiary was up in this part of Massachusetts, amongst the cranberry and sweet corn farms and the small towns primarily made up of lower middle class and blue-collar workers.
It seemed unfair to lump the people out here with a close-by prison filled with criminals, seeing as half of the prisoners in the state were people from far wealthier areas who’d been charged with fraud, embezzlement and other such white-collar crimes, but I guess that’s how life was, especially in the upper echelons of society. Affluent cities like Claremont Bay were ostensibly kept free of anything ‘dirty’ or ‘low’, and all the secrets, lies and scandals were kept as hidden away as possible beneath a carefully-constructed façade of mansions with perfectly-trimmed hedges and manicured gardens.
At least here in the less wealthy areas, people were free to be themselves, rather than putting on some bullshit high society mask all the time.
Asher glanced at his GPS and then swerved around a tight corner into a narrow, dusty road, and I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a glare or even an annoyed sniff at the way the car jolted from the sudden movement. He was being a total asshole by imposing himself on this trip, and I had no idea why he even wanted to come to the prison with me. It wasn’t like he felt some need to protect me; he’d already made it quite clear that he only saw me as one thing: a sexual object which existed purely to fuck or mess with.
So that still left the burning question. Why did he insist on coming with me?
We pulled up to the prison five minutes later, and Asher removed the keys from the ignition before looking at me. “Wait here,” he said. Then he got out of the car and stalked toward the main entrance, and I noticed that he clicked a button on his keys to lock the car doors behind him. Did he think a hardened criminal would suddenly break out and snatch me from the car if he didn’t lock me in? I snorted at the thought, and I couldn’t help but feel a little gleeful that Asher was actually being a little protective of me.
Either that or he thought I was some sort of flight risk who might leave the car and do a runner from him. That was far more likely, now that I thought about it. After all, he’d caught me sneaking out of Briarwood earlier.
He returned ten minutes later. “Visiting hours aren’t for another hour or so,” he said. “We’ll have to wait.”
“Oh.”
“Guess we might as well go and grab a bite to eat somewhere. I’m fucking starving after that drive.”
I didn’t particularly want to share a meal with Asher, but it was a better idea than simply sitting here in the car with him for an hour.
“Okay,” I replied with a nod. “I think we passed a diner on that road through town about fifteen minutes back the way we came.”
&nbs
p; “All right.”
When we arrived at the diner, we sat at a free table and looked at the faded old menus that a surly-looking waitress brought us. The place was a typical greasy spoon eatery—which I didn’t mind in the slightest, it made a nice change from the things I usually ate—and I stared at the burger options, wondering if I could handle one right now. I desperately wanted one, but my stomach was churning from the thought of seeing my father for the first time since his sentencing, so I settled on an order of pumpkin soup instead.
Asher ordered a double bacon burger and fries, and we sat in silence again as we waited for our food to arrive. When it did, I put my spoon in my soup and stirred in hard and fast circles, like I was trying to stir a hole through the bowl, the table, and the floor, burrowing my way into some other plane of existence where I could be alone forever and no one could find me.
Especially Asher. With the way he was staring at me now, I felt like he would rather eat me than the burger sitting before him.
“What?” I finally said with an exasperated sigh. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
He shrugged and pointed to my soup. “That just doesn’t look particularly filling, and with the way you’ve been staring at my burger for the last few minutes, I could ask you the same thing. You could’ve ordered one, you know.”
“I wanted to, but I don’t know if I could get it all down. God, it looks good, though,” I replied. “Don’t tell my mother this—she’d probably have a conniption—but I honestly love greasy food from places like this. I prefer it, in fact.”
“Compared to all the foie gras and truffle butter that gets shoved down our throats every second night?” he said with a grin.
“Yeah.”
“Well, it looks like we actually have something in common, then. I prefer food like this too. Give me a crappy old diner over a Michelin starred restaurant any day,” he said before summoning the waitress again. “Can we grab another burger, please?”
I widened my eyes. “Asher, I really don’t think—”
He held up a hand. “You’ll be fine. Trust me, it’ll make you feel better.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. Maybe he was right. “Okay. Fine.”
“While we wait, you can have some of my fries,” he said. “Go on.”
A smile played on his lips as I took a fry from his plate and nibbled on it, a small sigh escaping my own lips as the salty, oily goodness lit up my taste buds. “Yum.”
“Never thought I’d see the day when a Claremont Bay girl would eat a fry.”
I laughed. “Well, I never thought I’d see a guy like you chowing down on a cheap bacon burger, either.”
Even though it was just food, it seemed our mutual appreciation of the greasy fare had melted the icy barrier between us a little, and we found ourselves settling into a casual conversation.
“Are you finished with college, or are you going back in the upcoming semester?” I asked.
“Going back. Law takes a long time.”
“Oh yeah, of course.”
“You said you’re studying art history, right?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“There’s some great books in the Briarwood library about that.”
“Already found them,” I said with a smile.
“Cool. Did you find the hidden room in the library, behind the geology shelf?”
My eyes lit up. “No way. There’s really a hidden room? I kind of jokingly wondered to myself if there was a place like that in the manor, but I didn’t think there actually was one.”
He chuckled. “Yep, there’s really a hidden room. I’ll have to show you one day. I used to hide from my dad inside it when I was a kid when he was mad at me.”
His smile faded a little at the mention of his childhood, and I wondered why. I didn’t want to awkwardly bring up my concern, though, so I simply shared a few relevant things from my own childhood.
“I used to have a secret hiding place too,” I said. “In the kitchen pantry, there was this little door which led to an unused cellar. I don’t know if anyone even knew it was there. But I used to sneak in there with and play with the Barbie dolls that Dad bought me. I had to hide them, you see, because Mom thought Barbies were a trashy toy and always threw them out whenever Dad got them for me. She wanted me to play with the antique dolls passed down from her mother.”
Asher frowned. “It’s so fucked up how our parents try to impose their ridiculous beliefs on us, isn’t it? Almost like they try to indoctrinate kids into their upper class cult.”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“It’s good your father never bought into that crap and got you the Barbie dolls, though. Kids should have a proper childhood without all that elitist nonsense filling their heads.”
“Yeah. My dad was the best.”
I looked down at my plate, and Asher leaned forward. “You really think he’s innocent, don’t you?” he said, eyebrows drawn together in an inquisitive stare. I nodded, and he went on. “Look, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, especially with me, but hey, we’re here for another half hour at least, so if you wanna get it all out, go ahead. Might help prepare you for when you see him soon.”
“Are you sure?” I said softly. “I mean, I know it’s your mom who he was accused of…”
I couldn’t finish that sentence, and Asher nodded. “I can handle it.”
“Okay. I’m sure he didn’t do it,” I said with an emphatic shake of my head. “But it’s just so hard to know for sure sometimes because of all the lies. I had no idea he was having an affair with your mother, and I had no idea she was going to have a baby. And it just makes me wonder…if none of this had happened, and she was still alive and had the baby, would he have ever told me that I had a half-sibling out there?”
“Yeah. That’s rough.”
Hot tears filled my eyes and threatened to spill down my cheeks, and Asher reached out and patted my hand. “If it makes you feel any better, you aren’t alone. Shit was always kind of fucked up with my family too. Especially my mother.”
I sniffed and looked into his eyes. “How so?”
“Well, you followed your father’s trial, right? And they went through her whole history during it. So you know she wasn’t exactly all that mentally stable.”
“Yes.”
“She was pretty much always like that. When she married my dad, she was apparently so happy and desperate to start having kids, and she got pregnant right away. Dad said she was glowing with pride and joy throughout it all, and she seemed like she’d make a wonderful mother. But then I was born, and he said it was like she just changed overnight. She was always moody and ignored me, let the nannies take care of me. He thought she had post-partum depression and made her get therapy and see a doctor for antidepressants—that’s what they brought up in the trial—but it didn’t work. She stayed the same. Cold and indifferent toward us. And then when I was about to turn one, she vanished.”
“Vanished?”
“Left us. Abandoned me,” he said. “She’d been having an affair with some guy, and she decided to run off with him. She didn’t come back for a couple of years after that, and even when she did, there was no apology. She’d come back and forth every so often, usually to try and get money from Dad, but that was it. She didn’t really care about me. I mean, until I heard she was dead, I didn’t even know she’d been back in Claremont Bay again, let alone pregnant.”
“I’m so sorry, Asher,” I said, my eyebrows pinched into a sad frown. “I knew she was unstable, and I knew your parents divorced at an early age, but I had no idea she did that.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t talk about it much,” he said. “And Dad never does. It was a huge scandal back in the day, his wife leaving him for another man and all, but like all scandals tend to do, it died down eventually. And after it did, he almost never brought her up.”
“What was your relationship like with him, then?”
“When Mom left us like t
hat, he handled it pretty admirably. He took the best care of me that he could as a single father—I guess the money helped with that—but when I got older he just…changed. I started to look more and more like my mother every day, I guess, with the eyes and hair. I could tell he didn’t like to look at me. So he’s never outwardly said anything about it, but he’s been pretty frosty toward me for years now.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, it does. But I can’t complain too much. He’s given me everything in life.”
“Same with my parents,” I replied. “That’s another reason I feel so bad about complaining. Like, I know my life sucks in a lot of ways right now, but on the other hand, at least I’m not starving. At least I have a roof over my head, and a damn big roof at that.”
He nodded. “I get it.”
I nibbled on another fry, and then I looked up at Asher. “Thanks for listening to me and talking to me about all of this,” I said softly. “I think it’s actually helped a bit.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said.
And just like that, another distinct silence settled over the table as we finished our burgers, and it was like nothing had changed between us at all.
But it had.
Somehow, despite everything, it seemed that Asher and I had just become friends.
Nine
Asher
After we'd had our food, I paid the waitress and we headed toward my car. Chloe was quiet and I could tell there was a lot on her mind. I didn't press her to tell me what she was thinking about, and she didn't elaborate either. Instead, I used the quiet to deal with the dark thoughts floating through my mind.
If Dad knew I'd let Chloe come here, or god forbid, that I'd actually come with her, he’d kill me. Ever since my mother’s murder happened a year ago, he’d been keeping his head down, as difficult as it was with a job like his. So why the hell was I driving Chloe to the penitentiary now, when I could be avoiding her and steering clear of trouble?
Scandal (A Dirty Money Novel) Page 7
