by Jayne Blue
R.J. shook his head. “She was working as a secretary or file girl or something. When Miranda found out he tapped it, she went ape shit and pulled some strings to get Tora fired. It backfired though because they’re still a thing. He’s pushing for a quickie wedding. I don’t know, maybe she’s knocked up.”
Seth and Tora had made their way to Miranda’s casket. Seth’s shoulders shook but he managed to steady himself with a hand just above Tora’s ass as they took their place on the kneeler.
“I need some air,” I told R.J. “I really need to get the hell out of here. Any chance I can do that without looking like a dick?”
“Not really,” R.J. said. “But why don’t you go hang out in Beauchamp’s private office. Third door on the left down the hall. There’s a study in there. Fireplace. Big comfy couch. Think he’s even got a beer-stocked fridge. I’d go with you but my folks just pulled up. Go chill out for a little while and I’ll come find you. You should say hi to them.”
“You’re a good man.” I punched R.J. in the arm. “No matter what anyone else says.”
Beauchamp’s private office was as good as R.J. promised. Clearly he used it as a sanctuary away from Mrs. Beauchamp. The place was lined with stocked bookshelves; he had an ornate wooden desk with a banker’s lamp on it and a small cube of a fridge. At the center of the room was a large fireplace surrounded by plush recliners and a long couch. I plopped down on the couch in front of the fireplace and jammed my thumbs against my eyelids. I had the makings of a bitch of a headache. I hated this place. Hated funerals in general. Hated coming back to Lake Bliss.
I cracked one of Beauchamp’s beers. Mixed with my earlier shot of bourbon, I was good and buzzed and started drifting off after about two minutes. I had a fleeting thought that I hoped R.J. kept his word and came after me. I was comfortable enough now I might sleep through to the morning.
I might have. But later, something crashing into Beauchamp’s desk jarring me awake. I would have got up, announced my presence ... I swear I would have. But the voices I heard made me freeze.
“Seth,” Tora whispered, her voice a sultry tease. “Not now. Not here.”
Seth made a noise that sounded like a dog’s growl. “Come on, baby, tell me you did what I asked. Let me feel.”
“Seth!” she whisper-shouted. More fumbling, the ruffling of clothes.
Seth growled again. “That’s my sexy little whore,” he said. “No panties for you, ever. Got it? Now suck me off.”
Jesus. Now I really wanted the hell out of here. Hot as I thought Tora was, the idea that she went down on Seth, that she did anything with Seth, made me realize there was something wrong with her.
“Not now,” she said. More fumbling.
Dammit, I couldn’t help myself. I edged up on the couch as much as I dared. I was able to peek one eye over the top. Seth had Tora perched on the edge of Beauchamp’s desk with her legs wrapped around his waist. She kissed him, but something was off. Tora’s eyes drifted to a point over his shoulder as she kissed him. When Seth pressed against her harder, she spread her legs even wider, pulled him close to her.
But I saw her eyes. When she didn’t realize anyone was watching, she looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but here. While Seth was clearly in it to win it, Tora Blake was about to fake it.
Chapter Two
Tora
One hour earlier.
If Miranda could see what I looked like today, she’d call me a whore. Again. It wasn’t my choice. I had a cream-colored suit picked out, had even put it on before Seth made me take it off in favor of the blue dress that was at least one size too small. Now we were late because of it. It made him happy, though. Now, more than ever, it was important that I keep Seth happy.
The limo driver took the long way because Seth liked to drive along the lake. He said it calmed him. Today he clearly needed it. He sat beside me wringing his hands between his knees, head down.
I leaned over, running a hand over the back of his head. “Are you going to be okay?” I asked. He tapped out a nervous beat with his heel against the floor of the car. It made his whole body shake.
“I don’t know,” he answered, his voice sounding small, boyish. With every hour that passed since he’d taken the call that Miranda collapsed, he seemed to grow younger.
I peered down, bringing my face within an inch of his. I smoothed a hand over the crown of his head; his hair tickled my fingers. He smelled of gin badly masked by mouthwash. “Baby? You can do this. These people are here because they cared about your mother, right? Then they care about you. I care about you.”
He clamped a hand over my knee, digging into my flesh as if I would float away if he didn’t hang on. “Nobody cares about me but you. They only care about her. And not even her. They care that they get credit for making an appearance. They want to see me screw this up somehow. See me fall flat on my face.”
What the hell was he talking about? It was a funeral home.
“The worst part’s almost over, baby,” I said. “There’s just this evening and the services tomorrow and the cemetery. We’ll take it one step at a time.”
“Just don’t leave me,” he said. “Don’t ever leave me. I can manage if you stay with me.”
I took his chin in my palm, drawing his head up until he was looking at me, his deep set blue eyes filled with dread and hope all at once. Why do so many men in my life look at me with that exact expression? I did what I always do: I tried to give him what he thought he needed. I smiled, caressed his cheek and leaned in to kiss him.
Seth’s lips were stiff at first, unyielding. But I persisted, drawing him out, pushing my tongue past his lips. It was a dangerous play but he took the bait. He focused on me, his hands coming up, running across my rib cage. He cupped my breasts, pinching my nipples under the fabric of my too-tight dress until I winced, my cry muffled by his lips. I pulled back, panting to catch my breath.
“You’re perfect in that,” he said. “So sexy. Thank you for changing.”
“Your mother would have hated it,” I said and instantly regretted it. Seth’s eyes clouded over even as his focus went to some distant memory. I needed him present. I put a hand on his knee. “Baby?”
He shook his head. “I say it’s perfect. You’re perfect, Tora, and you’re mine. I want everyone to see how hot you are. Everyone will be in there and they’ll see. Say it.”
I smiled. “Seth ...”
“Say it.” His tone became more urgent.
“I’m yours,” I said. “You know that.”
“I just can’t believe this!” Seth shouted, his mood shifting on the dime. He tore through his hair with his fist.
“I know,” I said, putting my hands back in my lap. “It was so sudden. Have you talked to the doctors again? Did they tell you anything else?” I hoped I hit the right tone. If Seth got any angrier I would have to ask the driver to take another once around.
“No,” Seth said. “You know everything I do. We left her house around eight that night, her housekeeper said she went to bed around nine. She missed her alarm and was dead when the housekeeper when back in to check on her. Some kind of seizure and she stopped breathing. They said it can take up to a couple of months for the toxicology to come back but that’s it. Nobody expects any surprises. They said it was lucky it happened while she slept. If she’d have driven in to work that morning, she could have killed someone.”
“I’m still so sorry, baby,” I said. The limo had pulled up to the curb in front of the funeral home. Seth was staring off into space and didn’t seem to be aware of it. “Do you still need a minute? We’re here.”
“What?” He looked around. “No, I’m good. Let’s just get this over with.”
Seth tapped the seat back and made a circular motion with his index finger to the driver. The driver slid out of his seat and came around to open the curb side door. Seth slid out. I waited a second, thinking he’d offer me a hand to help me out but he was already distracted by something or someone at the
funeral parlor entrance.
The driver, a heavyset man named Larry, who I liked very much, gave me a shrug and a half smile as he reached in to help me out. It was a good thing; the dress stretched so tight around my thighs I wasn’t sure I could have managed without crawling.
“Good luck in there, Miss,” Larry said, shooting me a wink. I pulled my trench coat closed and quickened my step to catch up to Seth.
His back was to me. He had stopped, drawn into a quick embrace by the man standing closest to the door. The two of them started walking away together and I cleared my throat and called out after Seth.
They turned together and I got my first look at the man Seth had nearly left me alone for. I already knew who he was.
Jack Manning.
He turned to face me. Seth called him his brother but it was obvious to anyone with working eyesight they shared no DNA. Jack was taller, broad shouldered with dark wavy hair that curled at the ends just where it brushed his collar, the slightest touch of gray at the temples. He had an anvil sharp jaw with a deep cleft in his chin. His face split into a devilish smirk as he looked me over with piercing brown eyes like he could already see what was under my coat. My blood quickened as I stepped forward and took his hand.
I said my name, I think. I heard Seth make sounds but had no idea what he said. Whatever it was, Jack’s eyes narrowed, his smile froze before he gave me a quick nod and said it was nice to meet me.
Then Seth was at my side again. Larry came up behind me as well and gestured for me to let him take my coat. Traitor. He was kind to me but he worked for Seth. He’d heard the conversation in the car and knew Seth wanted everyone here to see me in this dress.
I peeled off my coat and handed it to Larry. Seth’s hand was at my back, pushing me forward as the line of mourners closed in. They said things to Seth, but they all looked at me. Most of them at least tried to conceal their reactions. The women gave me condescending smiles. Most of the men never made it that far, their eyes plastered at the center of my chest.
Somehow, we made it to the front of the room where Miranda lay. We knelt together. Seth’s hand felt hot against my back and I felt his fingers curl. If he had claws he would have dug into me to keep me there. Even in death, Miranda’s face seemed disapproving. I couldn’t help but smile a little at that.
It doesn’t matter Miranda. Your opinion was never the point.
***
I don’t know how I got through the next half hour. Seth introduced me to the other judges Miranda worked with. I wasn’t interested in them. I found myself searching the room, looking for Jack. He was nowhere. This surprised me. In the six months since I met Seth, he brought Jack up a lot. He measured himself against him and I knew he didn’t even realize it. But even without Seth’s comments, I knew as much about Jack as he did ... had memorized the details of the whole Manning family.
Jackson Edward Manning, Jr. Thirty-seven years old. Only son of Jackson Sr. and his first wife, Emily Baker Manning. Aged sixteen when his mother and fourteen-year-old sister were killed in a car accident. He went to Northwestern for undergrad. Majored in finance. MBA from Columbia University. Current net worth, approximately eighteen million dollars. Made his first million as a day trader out of his dorm room at Northwestern. Currently works as a financial consultant for private clients. Relationship status, single. No criminal record. Once sued a former business partner for breach of contract. Petitioned the Cook County Probate Court to remove Miranda as his father’s legal guardian but lost.
“Tora.” I jumped when Seth nudged me with his elbow. “Say hello to Senator Jeffries, and his wife.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, extending my hand. Senator Jeffries looked to be about a hundred and eight years old. His wife, even older. He kissed my hand with dry lips and his eyes never moved up from my chest. Mrs. Jeffries’ did; she openly scowled at me.
“Lovely to meet you, dear,” she said, her tone crackling with sarcasm. “I’m sure Miranda found you delightful.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The rest of the hour was much the same. They offered Seth condolences and I got thinly veiled sneers. I could endure it. Let them all look. Let them all judge me. It only mattered that I made Seth happy. I thought he was, at least with me. But it was obvious that he was growing more agitated at having to stand in a room with his dead mother just a few feet away. He finally said as much.
“I just need a break,” he whispered, nipping my ear lobe with his teeth. “Follow me. I know where we can hang out for a few minutes.”
He took my hand and led me down a darkened hallway. One of the doors had a crack of light underneath and Seth opened that one, ushering me in before him. It was a cozy office with furniture surrounding an unlit fireplace; books lined the wall from floor to ceiling. Before I could get my bearings anymore, Seth had his hands around my waist and pushed me backward until I sat down hard on the top of a wide mahogany desk.
“Seth!” I whisper-shouted.
He wedged his knee between my thighs, parting them.
“I can’t take it, baby,” he said. He had one hand at the small of my back, pulling me toward him, his other hand roamed up my front. He hooked a thumb under the bodice of my dress and set about freeing one of my already straining breasts. “I just need a distraction. I’m going out of my mind in there.”
He ran his tongue across the column of my throat and I put my hands around his shoulders as he spread my legs even farther apart. I put a hand down to steady myself and knocked over a small tin holding pens and pencils. They made a loud crash as they rolled over the desk and onto the floor.
“Seth,” I said in mock protest. If I could keep him happy, I could make him let me in. “Not now. Not here.” It was a lie. I felt heat grow between my legs. I liked the danger. It was the first erotic thing Seth had tried in weeks. In ... ever.
Seth nipped at my ear and made a growling noise. “Come on, baby, tell me you did what I asked. Let me feel.”
“Seth!” He nearly knocked me over the edge of the desk.
Seth grew more insistent. “That’s my sexy little whore,” he said. “No panties for you, ever. Got it? Now suck me off.”
I thought I heard a noise. Was someone coming? Was that Seth’s plan? To have someone spy on him, see me servicing him right here and now? How far would I go to keep him happy? I knew the answer was very, very far and that dark part of me responded, moistening the juncture between my thighs. I could close my eyes and pretend it was someone else. He would never know.
With shaking fingers, I went for his fly. The minute I grasped the zipper I knew how this would end and I didn’t know if I felt relief or disappointment. I gave it one tug but when my fingers folded around his crotch, Seth jerked away. He was limp. He grabbed my hand and squeezed so hard my knuckles scraped together. I cried out.
“Baby,” I said. “It’s okay. I don’t know how you ... how anyone could deal with all of this. Give yourself time to process this, okay? I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. We have all the time in the world.”
Seth backed away from me, his expression unreadable. “I just need a drink or something. Something to take the edge off.”
I bit my lip. I’d seen what Seth drank before we left. If his edges got any more rounded, he’d be laid out on the floor. I said none of it. I kept my lips in a soft smile as I readjusted my dress and slid off of the desk. I put my hands flat on the lapels of his jacket and leaned up to kiss him. Smile, don’t make him angry. Don’t let him see.
“One more hour,” I said. “Why don’t you go out there and find your brother or one of your friends? Maybe you should plan a guys’ night with them. You’re always telling me how much of a blast everything was when you were kids.”
He nodded. “Right,” he said. “I could do that.”
I felt the tension go out of my shoulders. I’d expected him to blame me for what was happening – or not happening – in his pants. Just like always.
“Good,” I said, giving him
a playful swat on the ass. “Just give me a minute to put myself back together and I’ll join you out there.”
Seth nodded, reached out and squeezed my breasts one last time before he turned and left me alone. My skin was blotched where he grabbed me. If I went out there now, everyone would see.
As soon as the door shut behind him, I started to tremble. I hadn’t had more than a minute alone since the news came about Miranda’s death. He’d been at my side, watching me, testing me, baiting me ever since.
It was then that I noticed a small silver refrigerator in the corner of the room. The kind you’d find in a college dorm. There were liquor bottles on top of it. I crossed the room and grabbed a vodka bottle. My fingers were shaking as I unscrewed the lid and downed a shot. It was cheap, it was awful, it was perfect. I took another shot and headed for the couch. The second shot started doing the trick. I felt it warm in my belly and spread, dulling me. I just needed a few more minutes. Would one more shot be too much?
I stepped around to the front of the couch, intending to sit, and got a hell of a shock. I wasn’t alone. Jack Manning slowly rose to a sitting position, his face flushed, his eyes flashing as his full mouth curved into a smile.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice deep and rich, sending vibrations through my already frayed nerves.
“Why didn’t you say something?” I asked.
He stood, shaking his head. “What’s my line? In the middle of that beautiful love scene? That wouldn’t have been very tactful, would it?”
I considered him for a moment. Was he insecure like Seth? What tactic would work? “Well, Ashley didn’t ask Scarlett to suck him off.”
Jack threw his head back and laughed. “She should have. I think she might have had a better shot.”
I smiled. “The fact that you opened with a Gone With The Wind reference might lead your friend R.J. out there to take away your man card. Who are you hiding from back here?”
His smile dropped and I regretted saying it except I wanted to know the answer. Jack took a step toward me. We were close, just a few inches apart so I could feel his breath coming hot. I had the urge to touch his face. Run my fingers along the rough stubble that was beginning to shade his square jaw down the line of his chin to the sexy cleft he had there. His brown eyes flashed.
