I descended the front steps of the house and was surprised to see, not the car, but a helicopter sitting on the front lawn.
Dante saw me and came over to take my overnight bag.
“What's this?” I asked.
“It's your helicopter.” He seemed befuddled by my question.
I quirked a brow. “We have a helicopter?”
“You have seven, Mrs. Duncan. Weren't you aware?”
“No. I've never even been on one.” I stared at the blades as I followed close behind Dante.
Jack's Porsche came up the driveway and stopped in front of the house. He got out and straightened his lapel. He was wearing sleek black Ray Bans. I stopped in front of the small steps leading up to the copter's cabin and waved at Jack.
He looked so serious. It was a shame, because I'd always admired his smile. I hadn't seen it since we'd left the club. It was a mystery to me why he'd been so mad that night. Obviously that woman had upset him in some way. Whatever the case, I was determined to improve his mood.
I smiled and met him halfway across the lawn. “You look nice.”
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked.
“Yup. Dante just loaded the last of our bags. I didn't know we were taking a helicopter.” I grinned. “It's exciting!”
“Shall we?” he gestured toward the vehicle.
I went ahead of him, praying this weekend wouldn't just be him sulking during the event and me trying to clumsily make up for it to our guests.
Dante helped me into the cabin, which was fitted with reclining seats. “The cabin is essentially sound-proof, but there will still be some noise from the engine. If you feel uncomfortable, wear those headphones.” He pointed to a hook where two pair were hanging. “Make sure to buckle up.”
I fastened my seatbelt. “Thank you, Dante.”
(Jack)
I leaned back in my chair and stared out the window. Emily began to jabber on as the chopper took off. I'd been on helicopters dozens of times and didn't want to listen to her anymore, so I told her I was tired and shut my eyes.
I'd been unable to do much work or accomplish anything of note. The museum opening was the best I could do. It'd been strenuous, but Emily had performed her role perfectly. Several of the voters had mentioned how enchanted they'd been with her in follow-up emails and notes.
Things were going exactly according to my plans.
Well, not exactly.
In the recesses of my mind, I was thinking of Chastity. In fact, I hadn't been able to stop thinking of her for days. I'd been blindsided by how much a woman could affect me. That stupid kiss—that's what had started the whole mess. The mere thought of it frustrated and confused me. No matter how much or how often I thought about it, I couldn't figure out why I'd done it. What's more, I couldn't figure out why she'd pushed me away.
But why? Why had it mattered that she had?
Wasn't she just another living toy in a long line of playthings? Couldn't I just toss her on the pile like the rest?
I couldn't, I realized. I'd tried. I wanted her—in my life, in my bed, at my disposal and obeying my orders. Being with her fulfilled me.
That was fucking terrifying. Fulfillment? From a person? I'd never had that before.
Was I too far gone to go without her?
When I'd asked if we were done, she didn't answer me. Her silence had pierced me like a knife. It was painful to think she didn't want me anymore. Painful! The thought of a female causing me pain was hideous and repulsive. I'd never allowed one to get to me before—make me angry, yes—but never inflict pain on me.
There was part of me that wanted to punish her for it, to exact revenge on her for what she'd done.
She was so damn cool and collected. I doubt she'd even feel it.
Fuck, now you want her to feel things? What's wrong with you, idiot?
“Jack? Are you okay?” Emily's voice floated into my thoughts.
Instead of opening my eyes and answering her, I kept them clamped shut.
The world outside was depressing. At least in my daydreams, I could think of her. I could possess that mouth all I wanted … and she couldn't say no.
(Emily)
The copter settled down on the helipad of Magnolia House in upstate New York. It looked much like a country club. Its location was secluded, but the grounds gave it an incredibly open feel. Manicured lawns and gardens spread out in all directions. Fountains bubbled in front of the palatial building. I stared up at the six-story building. It had wings. It was easily three times the size of our house in the city.
“Jack, this place is amazing. How much did it cost to rent it?” I asked, trying to take it all in.
“Rent? Didn't I tell you?”
“Don't tell me we—”
He buttoned his jacket. “This was my grandfather's house.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled, my mouth agape.
“Your level of surprise is amusing.”
“Why haven't we ever been here before?”
Jack heaved a sigh. “No more questions. Let's go in.”
I followed reluctantly, stumbling around like a toddler learning to walk. Everything was beautiful, polished and antique from the floors to the ceilings.
A man in a full butler's suit met us at the door. It didn't seem to me that he was old, so I took the silver at his temples and brows to suggest that he was under an excessive amount of stress.
“Good afternoon, Angler. I trust the house is in order.” I supposed this was Jack's way of greeting him, though he was his usual authoritative self.
“Good afternoon, sir.” He had just about the thickest British accent I'd ever heard. It appeared that the Duncan family didn't skimp on hiring the best to manage their houses. “Things are progressing well,” he continued. “Everything is on schedule. The staff is working hard to make sure the garden party is prepared. The firework company is setting up in the back. The orchestra hasn't arrived yet, but there is construction on the highway.”
“Thank you, Angler.” Jack turned to me. “This is Mrs. Duncan. Emily, this is Angler. He's taken care of the house for the past twenty-five years.”
“I'm pleased to meet you, Ma'am,” Angler said.
“Hello, Angler,” I replied. The formality of being called “ma'am” made me wonder if I should curtsy.
“Did you prepare the master suite as I instructed?” Jack asked.
We paced forward toward the grand staircase, which split at the first landing and led to the second floor. I stared up the left and right sides. The thick red carpet under my feet felt plush even through my shoes.
“Unfortunately, sir, I was unable to do so.”
Jack stopped on the second flight's first step. “Why is that?”
Angler cleared his throat. “There is a lady occupying that room.”
A lady? I wondered.
At the mention of her, every muscle in Jack's face went visibly tense. “I see.”
“I've prepared, for your use, the rooms that adjoin the master's study. Is there any other suite you would prefer?”
“Besides the damned Master suite?” Jack sneered.
Angler went still. “I apologize, sir.”
“It's not your fault,” Jack spat. He took a deep breath. “See to the rest of the preparations. I will escort my wife myself.”
“Yes, sir.” Angler waited a moment as Jack ascended the stairs, then disappeared back down to the first floor.
I followed after, sprinting in order to keep up. “Jack.” He didn't stop or turn around. “Jack!” I took hold of his arm to help keep pace.
“Of course she's here,” he muttered under his breath.
“Who, Jack? Who's here?”
“None of your damn business!” he shouted.
“There's no need to yell at me!” I snapped back.
His cold eyes fell on me. “Did you just raise your voice at me?”
My nostrils flared and my cheeks flushed. “I'm sorry.”
“Seems like ev
erybody's sorry today.” He flicked his nose with his thumb.
“If you'd only tell me what's wrong, maybe I could help,” I suggested.
“Let's just get to our room.”
I followed him down several hallways until we came to a set of double doors. He opened the doors and the sight of our room left me breathless.
“Jack … this is gorgeous!” The four-poster bed on the far side of the room was clad in a plush sateen comforter. The color theme of the room was hunter green with hints of royal purple—very masculine. Still, it was warm and inviting. I was surprised to see there was a fireplace. I'd never seen a bedroom equipped with one before, let alone one made of white marble.
“Whenever we visited my grandparents in my childhood, I stayed in here.” He picked up a small carved elephant figurine and stared at it wistfully. “Nothing's changed.”
I smiled. “I love it here. We should come back sometime and bring Katherine with us.”
“I'm not sure that will be possible,” he said, setting the figurine down.
“Why not?”
“Didn't you know?” He chuckled. “Big houses like these always have their ghosts.”
Before I could respond, Dante appeared in the doorway with our luggage. “Here you go, sir.”
“You got everything in one trip. Good man. Go ahead and relax. I'll call you if I need anything.”
“Yes, sir,” Dante answered before disappearing.
Jack went over to his laptop bag and rifled through it. “This is the itinerary for the weekend,” he said, bringing out a portfolio. “I had my assistant type it up for you.”
I took the booklet and scanned its pages. “Garden party this afternoon, dinner following. Tomorrow there's a brunch. All-day cocktail hour. Horseback riding, golf and spa treatments available. Wine tasting. Lunch. Dancing and dinner.”
“Yes, it's a full schedule,” he said, hefting his suitcase onto the bed. “People will begin arriving any minute. I suggest you freshen up and get changed.”
“Oh. Right.” I picked up my own bags and set them in a nearby recliner.
“This room was always frightfully tacky,” a woman's voice said from the doorway.
I spun on my heels.
I'd seen those piercing blue eyes before. Her white angled bob only echoed the sharp cut of her jaw. Her true-red lips spread into a smile.
Jack bristled to attention, and his movements became more pronounced.
“You must be Emily.” The woman crossed the room, her Prada shoes gliding elegantly over the carpet.
“I am. Who—”
“Don't tell me you never told her about me,” the woman said over her shoulder. Jack didn't answer. In fact he didn't pay either of us any mind. She faced me again, a smirk on her face. “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.” She looked me up and down. “I didn't expect you to be so young.”
“I—” I began.
“Couldn't you have picked someone with some age on her?” she asked Jack again.
“Pardon me, but who are you?” I asked.
“I'm Jack's mother, but you can call me Joanna.”
“What!?” I shrieked. “But … I thought both of your parents had passed away!” I exclaimed in Jack's direction.
“That's a common misconception.”
Dizzy, I leaned against the wall for support. “I don't … understand.”
“My husband died under rather unsavory circumstances.” Her smile never left her face. “I was suspect number one.” She checked her gleaming nails, which were sharpened to a point. “As you might expect, one doesn't stay in the country long when those troublesome allegations seem to tag along behind you. I've been in Europe for a few years.”
I'd remembered reading about Jack online, but the article had been an unofficial source. “But the magazines and blogs … ” I began.
“You trust the tabloids?” She shook her head. “The rats that run those rags feed on gossip. None of it's true.” She snickered. I must have been staring at her with fear, because she set a hand on my shoulder. “Calm down. I don't bite, at least not until I've known you longer.” She nodded her head to the doorway. “Come and take a walk with me.”
“Stay,” Jack commanded. “You have to get ready for the party.”
I froze, my cheeks on fire. I had no idea who I should listen to, and that was a first.
“I suppose my little brat of a son must have his way.” She exposed her pearly whites again. “Go ahead and change, then meet me downstairs.”
She took a few long strides out of our room and disappeared down the hall.
Jack tossed the shirt in his hands to the side of his suitcase.
Still in shock, I stormed over and shut his suitcase. “Do you want to explain to me why your mother was kept a secret from me?”
“You never asked.”
“I asked about your family when we were dating!” I exclaimed.
“She and I are not on speaking terms. I didn't think you two would ever meet since she spends most of her time out of the country.”
“What does your father's death have to do with her?”
Jack's jaw clenched. “It's a long, convoluted story. I'd rather not get into it now—or ever—for that matter. Just know that it had little to nothing to do with her, and it's best left alone.”
“This is your family that we're talking about here, Jack, not some stranger.” I shook my head. “Don't you love her?”
“Emily.” There was a warning in his tone. “I hate that woman with every fiber of my being. I wish she was dead, and if I never saw here again, I would be happy. I'd prefer you don't see her, but knowing your stance on family, I'm aware you won't listen. As long as you play your part this weekend, I don't care what else you do. Am I clear?”
“I don't understand why you hate her.”
“I told you. It's a long story, one I don't want to tell. Just know that she's never done anyone any good and probably never will.” He walked off to the bathroom and shut himself inside.
Frowning, I went back to my luggage to begin getting ready. The garden party was beginning soon, and I had my role to play. Joanna would certainly be getting some of my attention, but I couldn't help but feel I was just a pawn in her attempt to annoy Jack.
But why? Who could hate his own mother? What had happened between them?
Less than an hour later, I was descending the stairs in a lace-overlaid, white evening gown.
I found myself alone, with no idea which way to go to find Mrs. Duncan—er—Joanna. Angler came around the corner with four people swarming him. He was giving directions to them all, and spoke fluent French to one of them.
“Uh, excuse me,” I stammered.
Angler held up a hand to halt the barrage of questions being fired at him. “Ah, Mrs. Duncan. What might I do for you?”
“I was looking for Mrs. Duncan—eh, Jack's mother.”
“I see. Mrs. Duncan is in the drawing room. I'll escort you myself.” Before I could refuse the kind gesture, he turned to his entourage. “Go back to the kitchen, I'll be there in a moment.” The quartet dissipated immediately. Angler smiled. “If you'll follow me, I'll show you the way.”
I blushed. “Thank you. That's kind of you.”
“It's my pleasure, ma'am.” He led the way and I followed blindly behind, my awe newly refreshed as we crossed through rooms and corridors.
He stopped in front of a set of double doors and knocked.
“Come in,” Joanna said from inside.
Angler stepped in. “Mrs. Duncan, Madam.”
Four couches were situated around a large coffee table. A bottle of amber liquor sat on its surface, gleaming in the firelight coming from the hearth.
“I like your gown. Who designed it?” she asked.
She had changed too, and was wearing an expensive-looking black silk number. It was classically cut but modern in its execution. A sparkling broach was pinned to a swag of material at her shoulder. The dress was audacious and a little much for a ga
rden party, I thought.
“Um. Vera Wang,” I said, pacing across the room.
“White. What an interesting choice. It becomes you.”
I shuffled my feet. “Thank you.”
“Sit down.”
I obeyed, taking the sofa to her left. She sat up and poured an inch of liquid into the second glass. “Here. Drink this.” She handed me the glass.
“I don't really drink.” Nevertheless, I took what she offered.
“You'll want a drink before this party. Trust me.” She sipped her own drink.
I stared tentatively into the liquid and swirled it around.
She set down her empty cup. “Now, I'm sure you have lots of questions.”
“Yes. I was wondering why Jack never mentioned you before. It seems like he's not fond of you. Why is that?” I asked.
“You're so inquisitive.” She laughed and reached into her purse. From it she produced a gold case, opened it, and took out a cigarette. “Do you smoke?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Good girl. Never start.” She stuck the cigarette between her teeth and lit it with an elaborately detailed lighter.
“How did you meet my son?”
“I'm sorry, but you didn't answer any of my questions,” I interjected.
One of her sharply-angled brows lifted, then lowered as she smiled. “Well, Emily, I'll tell you. Jack was always a willful, spoiled child. When things didn't go his way, or he didn't understand something, he immediately rejected it.” Her gaze floated to the ceiling. “He formed his opinions of me at a very young age. And they haven't changed.” She ashed her cigarette in a silver tray. “So, you see, we have some fundamental differences between us, and unfortunately, they're irreconcilable.”
“Hm.” I stared at the carpet.
“Now that I've answered your questions, perhaps you'd be gracious enough to answer mine.” She took a long drag and watched me with apparent interest.
“Well … it's a funny story.” I laughed nervously. “Jack put out an ad … and I answered it.”
She scoffed. “Put out an ad.” She tossed her head back and laughed. “Of course he did.” She ashed her cigarette. “Do you love him?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I'm sorry.”
Traded for Love Page 26
