Maybe it was.
If the police hadn’t already been called, they would be soon. Liz just hoped she wouldn’t be deemed responsible for whatever had gone on inside during her absence.
She stomped toward the front door and flung it open, seething with rage. She wasn’t even thirty, and yet somehow she found herself playing the part of the wet blanket parent ruining a random group of teenagers’ fun.
A few kids near the door glanced over at her, but then quickly turned their attention back toward each other and whatever liquid their plastic cups contained.
Liz didn’t want to know. Couldn’t know.
She scanned the room for Victoria or Valeria, but instead she found the very coworker whose shift she had agreed to cover that evening. That explained how the girls knew she would be out long enough for them to host a party. They were so grounded, and Liz would never, ever cover a shift for a high schooler again.
This needed to stop, and it needed to stop now.
“That’s enough!” she yelled, placing her hands around her mouth to form a megaphone. “Party’s over!”
Nobody heard her, or maybe it was just that nobody cared.
She groaned and then flicked the light switch on and off, which only excited the dancers more. Apparently, she still looked too close in age to the high school partiers to be taken as a serious threat to their fun. Ending this thing was not going to be easy.
A hand spread across the small of her back, startling her. Was someone seriously putting the moves on her? Ick.
She spun around, ready to give the inappropriate Romeo a piece of her mind, but the man who greeted her wasn’t a teenager at all.
It was Dorian Whitley.
“You!” Liz’s blood boiled at the sight of Dorian in her house. If this were a romantic comedy, she might say something like “fancy meeting you here” or “we have to stop meeting like this.” But this wasn’t a comedy. Ever since the appearance of Dorian, her life had become a tragic drama—and she definitely didn’t remember buying a ticket.
Dorian smiled without a trace of his normal bluster. “Me.”
Again with the flirting-not-flirting-interrogation-not-interrogation. She had enough to deal with already and hated him for adding to the unwieldy pile up of problems. She placed her hands on her hips and glowered at him. “You’re following me, and I’m calling the police.”
He waved his phone at eye level. “I already did.”
Well, that was unexpected. “But, you… You…” Liz struggled to find words to match the situation. She’d vowed to give him a piece of her mind should they meet again. Yet now that he was here and the party music was thumping at her brain like a bass drum, she came up short.
He placed a hand on her back again. “C’mon, let me help you break this up. Then you can decide whether you want to have me arrested for stalking.”
His touch felt nice, comforting, given the horror of the situation. The pleasantness of it angered her greatly. “So you admit it?” she spat.
He nodded and smiled. This time, she believed the gesture. He’d smiled many times during her past two encounters with him, but this was the first one that felt authentic. “I do, but I have a very good reason.”
“Well, will you tell me?”
“After we handle this. Where’s your dog?”
“Samson, he… How do you know I have a dog?”
“I promise to explain everything. Just tell me where Samson is.”
“The garage, probably.”
“Perfect.”
Liz stood rooted to the spot as Dorian pushed through the house and toward the garage. He knew exactly where to go, which unsettled her to no end. Had he been in her house before? Why? Why did he know so much about her? Why had he followed her home? And why did he suddenly want to help her?
A moment later, Samson burst into the kitchen through the garage and began jumping excitedly on various party guests.
A girl shrieked when Samson’s leaping caused her to spill her drink all over her top.
“Party’s over!” Dorian shouted when everyone’s eyes turned toward the kitchen. “You have two minutes before I start ordering my dog to attack, and probably about three before the police show up.”
Victoria stomped over to Liz, her face twisted with rage. “You’re ruining my party!”
Liz wanted to be nice. She wanted to keep it together for her father’s sake, but she’d had enough. “You shouldn’t be having a party! It’s a Monday night, and nobody here is old enough to be drinking.”
Tori rolled her eyes as if Liz were the ridiculous one in this situation. “My mother doesn’t like you, and neither do I.”
If that was meant to surprise Liz, it didn’t. It just annoyed her further. “Yeah, and right now I don’t like you very much, either.” She pushed Tori out of her way, but the girl charged after her.
“Your boyfriend is ugly!” she shouted.
“And you’re grounded,” Liz shouted back. Teenagers sucked, especially these teenagers. Liz, for her part, had never been so happy to be a grown up in all of her life.
Victoria stomped back away, trying to keep her guests from leaving as she threw herself into dancing to the loud pop music playing over the speakers.
Dorian came up behind her, as was starting to become a particular habit of his. “Ugly, huh?” He laughed but didn’t wait for Liz to defend him. Despite his brief willingness to help her clear out the party, he’d done nothing to earn her trust—or her favor.
And Liz had many things she could have said to that. That his face wasn’t nearly as ugly as his personality. That actually she found him to be quite handsome when he wasn’t insulting her.
Instead, she just shook her head.
“Look, I didn’t really call the police,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to get you in trouble.”
“Who are you? Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“I’m Dorian Whitley, reporter for Anchorage Daily News.”
“That’s what you said before, but I don’t believe you.”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
“Then why did you follow me to work and follow me home? Why do you know about my dog and know your way around my father’s house? What else do you know that you’re not telling me? And aren’t you supposed to be out horseback riding with your girlfriend’s parents?”
He shook his head and gave her a look she couldn’t decode. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“So that part was a lie.”
He placed his hand on her back again. It seemed almost possessive this time and far too intense given the nature of their relationship. “A convenient bending of the truth.”
Liz needed everyone out of her house and she needed them out now, including—and especially—Dorian Whitley. “Look, if you didn’t call the police, then I’m going to. Even if I get in trouble for the underage drinking, it’s better than being left alone with a lying psycho stalker.”
“Ouch. Tell me what you really think of me.” He seemed amused more than hurt, but the insult had clearly scratched beneath the surface. Finally.
“I just did. Now, will you leave on your own, or do you need to be forcibly removed?”
“Don’t you want the truth?”
“I don’t think I trust you to give it to me.”
“Look, it’s complicated. I—”
Now she waved her phone at him. “You have five seconds.”
“I lied about having a girlfriend, but my name is Dorian and I am a reporter.”
She scowled at him and pressed a button on her phone. “9,” she said aloud as a warning.
“I’m not stalking you. I’m working on a story. Just like I told you at the wedding.”
She pressed another button. One more to go and she’d have the police on the line. “1.”
“The story isn’t about the wedding. It’s about a political scandal with Vanessa.”
That caught Liz off guard. Her finger hovered over the last button, but she didn’t
press down. Not yet.
“Your father may be in danger. You may be in danger.”
“Are you for real? Do you actually expect me to believe that?”
“From what I know of you so far, I doubt you will. But it’s the truth.”
“So what do you want? Why are you following me?”
“Access. You don’t like me, but I’m pretty sure you like her even less.” He let his words hang between them, waiting for her response. Liz finally understood the expression about the rock and the hard place. Should she go with Dorian, who claimed to be the enemy of her enemy and thus her friend, or should she go with the woman who her father loved and, to her knowledge, hadn’t stalked Liz a day in her life?
Decisions, decisions.
Liz watched as something changed in Dorian. His expression softened, and his lips twitched in amusement. Even his eyes, which had once seemed so cold and hard, beheld her now with concern, perhaps even kindness. Was this the same man who took such delight in insulting her? That seemed hard to believe.
And yet…
She searched the room for any sign of her stepsisters, but they had both disappeared into the rush of departing partiers outside. A few more teens staggered from the kitchen, the bathrooms, and upstairs, and then Liz was alone with Dorian.
“Okay, so what? You want me to help bring her down?” she asked, her voice low, unsure.
What she lacked in confidence, he covered doubly. His eyes flashed a pair of excited emeralds as he said, “Precisely.”
Liz had known in her gut that Vanessa Price was up to something sinister. Hearing Dorian confirm it only made her worry about her father more. As if knowing she needed the extra help to come to grips with the one-eighty change in their relationship, Dorian reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
From enemies to allies—could it really be? Though her skin warmed at his touch, she still had a hard time trusting him—and for very good reason. He’d insulted her, investigated her, stalked her. None of those were winning tactics when it came to making friends.
But whatever the case, he seemed to know something she did not. Something important.
“Why do you say we’re not safe?” Liz asked with a shaky voice.
Dorian grabbed her hand again, then took the other as well. Liz felt a charge run up her arms, but didn’t have enough wherewithal to figure out whether it was anger, fear, or… something else.
“Because you’re not,” Dorian insisted. “Vanessa has done some very unsavory things and has made a lot of people angry. It’s only a matter of time before it catches up to her.”
“My best friend, Scarlett, is one of them. Vanessa tricked her out of a job last year. Scar is okay now. She loves her new life, but it was really hard.”
Dorian nodded emphatically. “Yes, I believe it. And to think Scarlett is one of many, many people Vanessa Price has hurt. She’s not even the worst of her victims, either.”
Liz dropped his hands. They were distracting her from the more important topic at hand. She knew Vanessa had evil in her, but there was still one very important thing she couldn’t figure out. “I still don’t understand how we could be in danger,” she whispered, feeling a chill run over her as she did.
He continued to smile lightly, though his words were intense. “I know it’s asking a lot, but you’ll just have to trust me until I can reveal more.”
“It is asking a lot. You lied about your article before. How do I know you’re not lying now?”
“You don’t,” he said plainly. “But I’ll keep investigating whether or not you allow it.”
She crossed her arms and turned away, muttering over her shoulder, “So I may as well invite you to stalk me?”
He placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “It’s not stalking if I have permission, and actually now that you’re willing to talk to me, I don’t need to invent reasons anymore.”
His breath caressed her skin and sent a fresh shudder through her. It seemed her body was every bit as sure of its reaction to Dorian Whitley as her brain wasn’t. “So that’s why you made up a girlfriend?” she whispered with her face turned away.
He spun around her, bringing them face to face. “Yes.”
“And the horseback riding?”
Dorian’s eyes widened before he looked away and cleared his throat. “It’s just something I thought you might enjoy. I thought we could use it to build a rapport with each other.”
“I’ve never ridden a horse in my life, which makes me doubt your investigative skills or your honesty.” She had every reason not to trust him, and only one to try.
He smiled, his serpent like charm returning. “Which is it?”
She shook her head and frowned, not wanting to encourage him when she still didn’t know whether his sins could be overlooked in order to form a partnership. “Take your pick.”
“You don’t have to know everything yet. You just have to know enough to allow me some access to the house, to Vanessa’s life.”
She wanted to trust him. She did. Because if he were telling the truth and she ignored it now, it could mean very real pain for her father down the line. But she needed to know, “Will you ever tell me the full truth?”
Dorian looked away as if to regroup, then turned the full intensity of his gaze back her way. His furrowed brow seemed to hint that he felt frustrated either with her or with himself. “We’re very close to blowing the lid off this scandal,” he said rather than directly answering her question.
“And then?”
“And then your part in this is done.” He still wasn’t giving her any promises, but she needed him to make at least one that night.
“What about my father?” Liz demanded.
Dorian shrugged, but tension remained in his posture. “What about him?”
“Could this hurt him? This big thing about Vanessa? He is her husband, after all.”
He studied her before replying. “You really love him, don’t you?”
“Of course I love him. He’s my father.”
“He’s been good to you?”
“What kind of question is that?”
He placed a hand on his chest reflexively. “One from the heart.”
“Yeah, my father is a good man. Don’t hurt him with this, whatever it is.”
“I will do my absolute best.”
“Promise?”
He didn’t blink as he answered, “You have my word.”
“Okay, then what do you need from me?”
“Show me to Vanessa’s office. Give me some time to dig around, find the evidence I need.” His anxiety seemed to dispel completely. She’d given him what he wanted, but would that be enough?
She needed to know where all this was heading. “And then?” Liz asked again.
“And then I’ll leave quietly. You can forget you ever met me if that’s what you want.”
“Fine. Just don’t let my stepsisters see you.”
He chuckled now. “Oh, I can be very stealthy.”
The way he said this made Liz wonder if he’d been following her longer than she knew. If he’d already known her intimately before ever introducing himself at the wedding.
And, even more unsettling, whether he was the only one.
Dorian left about a half an hour later, saying he had what he needed but not offering much more than that. Samson had an upset stomach from lapping up spilled beer and vomited freely into a pair of one of the stepsisters’ sneakers.
And Liz felt too tired to care anymore. At least he was getting it out of his system and serving up a bit of much needed karma.
“Good dog,” she told Samson, then plopped down onto the couch with an afghan and a mug of tea.
She grabbed her phone and sent a text to Scarlett: Ugh. Is it next Monday yet?
Scarlett’s reply came back almost instantly. That bad, huh?
Worse.
The phone buzzed again, but this time with an incoming call.
“Talk to me. What’s u
p?” Scarlett said.
“Everything. Everything’s up.” She told her friend about the party, the fight with her stepsisters, and even about Dorian.
“Can I come stay the night with you?” Scarlett asked when Liz had finished weaving her tale of woe.
“What for?”
“Seems like you could use a friend.”
“But what about Fantine and Cosette?”
“I’ll ask our new neighbor, Celeste, to keep an eye on them for tonight. Don’t need those sisters of yours creating any more trouble about their—cough, cough—allergies.”
“Stepsisters,” Liz corrected with a sigh. “That first syllable is important.”
Twenty minutes later, Scarlett was seated beside Liz on the sofa. She’d worn her favorite flannel pajamas, ready for their grownup sleepover and leading Liz to wonder if she’d gone from being dependent on her father to being dependent now on her roommate. Whatever the case, at least she didn’t have to face the rest of the night alone.
And she felt especially happy to spend it with her best friend.
She and Scarlett had always been close, but Liz hadn’t realized how important their friendship was to her until Scarlett all but disappeared in pursuit of her sled racing dream, and for nearly a year.
Thankfully, their friendship had only grown stronger and Scarlett had gotten a fairytale-like ending—scoring both a dream guy and the ultimate adventure in the process. Yup, Scarlett kind of had it all, but she’d also lost almost everything to get it. Liz was proud of her friend’s resilience and inspired by it.
“How’s your novel coming along?” Liz asked as she sipped at her second mug of tea that night.
“Great! I even have a couple of agents who have contacted me through my blog, asking to see the manuscript when it’s done. But you know? I think I might want to self-publish.”
“Self-publish? Why?” Liz liked to read, but had no idea how the publishing world worked. She’d always thought writers ended up self-publishing as a last resort for books that no one else wanted.
Let There Be Life Page 4
