Torrid - Book One

by Jayne Blue

  What mattered more was this was Miranda’s house. Seth had only ever brought me here once and now we were in it and she was gone. I couldn’t believe my luck when Seth suggested we sleep here after the dinner party tonight. It was his now, after all. It was a gorgeous home, yes. An eight-thousand-square-foot Victorian-style mansion overlooking Lake Bliss. It had gardens and a reflecting pool, ivy-covered white brick walls. I cared about none of that. I cared that Miranda herself had lived here and somewhere, tucked away in one of these cavernous, obscenely expensive decorated rooms ... I might find one of her secrets and now she wouldn’t be able to stop me.

  “Tora!” Seth’s shout made my blood run cold. “Some of my guests are starting to arrive. I’m going down. Get your dress on.”

  “Wait,” I said. “You haven’t told me what jewelry you want me to wear.” I knew he’d say he didn’t care, but if I picked wrong, he would make sure I knew it later.

  Seth narrowed his eyes at me. “I don’t care. My mother’s got some boxes on her vanity, I think. Just pick something. Nothing that looks too expensive, though. I’m not broke – yet – but I’m gonna need some of these people to dive into their checkbooks for me at some point.”

  “Right.” I smiled. I took a step toward Seth. He was nervous, I knew. I could feel sympathy for that. Being Miranda’s son had left scars on him that I don’t think even he knew how deep they ran. Maybe, I thought. If he knew what happened, what she had done to me ... maybe he would help me anyway. “Good luck, baby,” I said, blowing him a kiss. “I’ll be down in five.”

  Seth closed the door and left me alone in Miranda’s bedroom. Patience, I thought. You’re not going to find what you need stashed under her bed. That would be too easy. Of course, I looked. But when I peeled back the lace dust ruffle of her four-poster canopy, all I found was a dust bunny and a discarded tube of lip gloss.

  I went to Miranda’s vanity table. Like most everything about her, it was over the top – a heavy wooden dresser painted white with a great gilded mirror against the wall. She had several jewelry boxes stacked against it and I picked one up at random. It held dozens of rings. Each of them more ostentatious than the next. The next box held brooches too heavy to go with my simple silk. A third box held a ring of old-fashioned keys. The house had the original doors with crystal knobs and classic keyholes. These keys might be important if I could find the chance to try them out. I placed them back in the box.

  Finally, I picked up the smallest jewelry box on the table. It was a simple, square teakwood box with a broken latch. It seemed almost out of place here. I opened the lid to find blue velvet lining and just a few pieces.

  I chose a teardrop diamond pendant with matching earrings. With the dress Seth picked, not a soul would pay attention to my accessories. Like at the funeral home, all eyes would be on my tits, just like he wanted. I might as well pick something I liked. I combed out my hair, letting it hang straight. It covered the earring but at least I would know they were there. Then I headed downstairs to play my part.

  Most of the invitees were people I met at Miranda’s service. Senator Jeffries was there. He wife was not. The mayor, a few prominent Chicago businessmen and most surprising, Jack Manning.

  It was Jack’s attention I caught first as I descended Miranda’s marble staircase. His were the only eyes that didn’t sneer when they saw me. Instead, they widened in appreciation as a slow, smooth smile came across his handsome face. I focused on him. It didn’t matter if the others judged me: I knew. Still, Jack’s gaze gave me strength I hadn’t realized I needed as I made my way through the gauntlet until I reached Seth’s side.

  Seth turned slightly and smiled. He put a possessive arm around me, the other held two fingers of scotch that he gestured with while talking to the mayor. I listened. I painted on the pretty smile that Seth expected. I said nothing more substantial than comments on the weather or agreement on how lovely the service or the flowers were for Miranda. Some of those still lined the staircase, reminding me of the sweet, sickly smell of death.

  Dinner was worse. Seth sat at the head of the table though I told him it was a terrible choice. No one should. He wasn’t a king. I sat at the far end next to two of the biggest sneering leerers in the room – the mayor and a fat old letch who introduced himself as George Pagano. When I asked him what he did for a living, both he and the mayor laughed and actually patted my head. I found myself looking for Jack again. It was no good. He was seated at the same side of the table as me but too far down to engage in conversation. I was on my own until after dessert.

  But Seth kept the drinks flowing and soon enough dinner ended. It was a roomful of egos and fat wallets and people saying nothing. Seth floundered at the head of the table and later as they moved into the other room for even more drinks. He wasn’t smooth. He asked for commitments with no finesse. He expected people to open their wallets right then and there. Seth was drunk. I could help him, I knew. If he hadn’t insisted on dressing me as his slut, his trophy. But I still hadn’t decided whether Seth’s political ambitions might help or hinder what I needed. Better to watch and wait.

  I needed air. I walked out Miranda’s double French doors to the terrace overlooking her perfectly manicured, perfectly vulgar gardens with a maze of hedges leading to a reflecting pool. How much did she pay every year to maintain them? Probably more than the median income of the people of Illinois.

  The air held a spring chill and I was glad for it. It kept everyone else inside so I could steal a minute alone. Seth would pass out before he made it to bed. He wouldn’t touch me. He rarely did. He would leave me alone with my thoughts and my doubts and in the morning his memory of tonight would be clouded by wishful thinking and revisionist history.

  An hour might have passed. No one missed me. I would have stayed out longer but I heard shouting coming from the other end of the courtyard. Squinting, I could see a light on in one of the first floor sitting rooms. Seth and Jack were inside. Seth held his hands out, his shoulders in a shrug but even from this distance I could make out a smirk on his face. Jack’s hands were balled into fists and he slammed one down on the cushion of one of Miranda’s green wing-backed chairs, nearly toppling the thing over. Hugging the ivy covered wall, I crept closer until I could hear their words.

  “You wanna get into this now? We can get into this now,” Jack said.

  “There’s nothing to get into, Jack. You’re here. Look around. I’m not hiding anything. I don’t have a map to some pirate treasure stashed away here.” Seth still held his arms out and he reared his head back in an over-exaggerated fake laugh. He did the same thing to me whenever I called him on his drinking. By the flexing of Jack’s hands in and out of fists, his reaction was about the same as mine.

  “Okay ... so I’ll explain this again slowly so maybe it will sink in. My mother had jewelry, pictures, things she was saving to give to my sister or me when we were older. I want to know what happened to them. That’s all. They’re probably not worth anything. They are definitely not worth anything to you.”

  Jack had something in his hand, something shiny. I couldn’t tell what it was until he slipped it over the first knuckle of his pinky. It was a diamond ring. “Thank you for this, okay?” He wiggled his pinky in Seth’s face. “But I remember she kept this with other things. I just want my own mother’s things back. You owe me a hell of a lot more but that’s the only thing I care to make an issue of right now.”

  “Oh.” Seth slammed his hands against the top of his thighs. “There we go. You think I owe you. I knew we’d get there. I wondered how long my mother would get to be in the ground before you’d start trying to pick a fight over my company.”

  “Your company.” There was a smile on Jack’s face, but it was deadly. “You know what, Seth, your mom died. I’m trying to be respectful of that no matter how much shit I’ve had to put up with. You’re making it pretty hard, though.”

  Jack was cool, coiled anger as he leaned back against the door jamb, sliding one hand i
nto his pocket. Seth was flailing, his face was beet red and even from here I could see the twitch in his eye. Jack was enjoying this. The more agitated Seth got, the calmer Jack got and it was driving Seth nuts. By the looks of it, this could go on for a while and I couldn’t help that it was entertaining me too. Then something occurred to me that made the blood in my veins turn to ice.

  This could go on a while.

  Jack was blocking Seth’s path to the hallway and looked like he had no intention of moving anytime soon. Seth’s core guests were in the other room with full bellies, cigars and booze. There were two household staff members on duty tonight and they were both attending to what was left of the party. No one gave a rat’s ass where I was at the moment.

  I got my bearings across the courtyard. Miranda’s study was also on the first floor but on the other end of the hallway to where Seth and Jack were arguing. I had time ... maybe a lot. And no one paying any attention to me. I reached down and slid off my heels, holding them by the straps in one hand. I needed to move fast and my four-inch heels wouldn’t help.

  My blood roared in my ears as I slipped back into the house and ran soundlessly down the carpeted hallway. When I got to the double doors of her study, I held my breath as I put my free hand on the knob and turned. The door creaked, but opened, and I slipped inside. I didn’t dare turn on the overhead lights. Enough moonlight came in through the window and I crossed the room and switched on a Tiffany lamp near the door.

  The room – like everything else in the house – was all Miranda. Her law books lined the walls. In the center of the room she had a large wooden desk that rivaled the size of those I’d seen depicted in the oval office. There were feminine touches here and there. Fresh-cut flowers on a low table between two rose-colored couches, plush white carpeting.

  Now that I was here, it occurred to me that I had no idea where to start. Surely her computer would be password protected but it was still worth a try. I slid her black leather chair away from the desk and lowered myself into it. I smoothed my hands over the large green felt desk pad. Miranda was old fashioned, I knew. She hated smartphones and electronic filing. In the corner of the room, she had a smaller desk where she kept her Underwood Number 5 vintage typewriter. The thing was heavy and mammoth and I couldn’t imagine anyone using it but I knew she did. Mostly to type personal notes. I had a collection of some her most scathing work addressed to me.

  Her laptop sat closed on the desk in front of me and I opened it. It booted quickly. She had a painting of the scales of justice as her wallpaper and hadn’t bothered to set up a password. Thank God I’d been right. Seth had let it slip at my urging that Miranda only used the thing to answer emails. Her assistant set everything else up for her. I didn’t expect to find anything on her hard drive. The things I needed would be too old. But I had to at least look. I might not get the chance again. For now, though, I didn’t want to do any more than see what files she had on her desktop. Opening anything, especially her browser, was too risky.

  Her desktop had two things on it: a shortcut to her browser, and a file marked “tomorrow’s docket.” It was about what I expected. I snapped her laptop shut and opened some of her desk drawers. I found keys, breath mints, rubber bands, an old-fashioned ink blotter ... nothing unusual. I had hoped to at least find file cabinets, but there was nothing. Whatever secrets Miranda hid, they weren’t in here. I stood and came around her desk and headed for the massive book shelves. Legal treatises on everything from evidence to negligence, to search and seizure, etc. My hand came to rest on a thick blue-bound volume with gold embossed lettering titled Model Code of Ethics and Professional Responsibility.

  “No wonder it looks so pretty on the shelf, Miranda,” I said. “You’ve never opened it.”

  I walked back to her desk; spreading my hands wide I leaned against it. I stared at the leather chair behind it and it felt like Miranda was still in the room. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine she was here. Still judging me. Her Chanel No. 5 still lingered everywhere in this house. Her check ledger lay closed on one corner of the desk. On Christmas Day, she’d waved one of those checks in my face hoping I would take it and leave.

  “No, Miranda,” I said to her empty chair. “What I still want from you isn’t something you could ever buy.”

  “Me either.” His voice behind me raised the hairs on the back of my neck. If my hands weren’t planted flat on the desk, I might have jumped at it. By some miracle I didn’t. Instead, I straightened my back and slowly turned.

  Jack leaned in the doorway of Miranda’s study, giving me the same cool smirk I’d seen him use on Seth just a while ago. It raised my blood pressure too, but in a different way. I’d been so careless. My mind spun, trying to weave the lie that might satisfy Jack. With Seth it was sometimes too easy. Jack, I suspected, was a different species altogether.

  “You seem to have a habit of sneaking up on me,” I said. He was cool; I would be too.

  “You seem to have a habit of sneaking off,” he said. He moved away from the door and came toward me.

  “She didn’t like me very much,” I said. I would stick to as much of the truth as I dared. He doesn’t know anything, I reminded myself. Until five minutes ago, I’d been careful.

  “Me either,” Jack said. He was no more than a foot away from me. He had his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, making his suit jacket lay open. His crisp white shirt stretched across his broad, strong chest. “Were you not good enough for Seth?”

  I sat back on the desk; crossing my arms in front of me I let my bare feet dangle. I had tossed my shoes in a heap by the door. Out there, I owned the dress Seth made me wear. It served my purpose to act as his trophy. In here, though, it was just Jack. And he had a way of looking through me that made me feel naked.

  “I didn’t know her very long,” I said. “She barely knew me. I didn’t take her opinions personally.”

  When Jack smiled, his eyes flashed. “You think you would have survived if she had?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean ... how long have you been engaged to Seth? Two months, three? My guess is she was just starting to do her number on you.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But, like I said, I didn’t it take personally. I find a lot of people make assumptions about me at their peril.”

  Jack nodded. “I think I can see that.”

  “So what were you hoping to find by sneaking off back here?” I said. The second I said it, I knew I’d found my hook. Jack’s eyes darkened.

  “Just looking around,” he said. “You know, this wasn’t originally Miranda’s house. My father bought it for my mother just a few months before she passed away. We never lived here, though. It needed renovations. Miranda ended up doing them. What do you think of the place?”

  “It’s big,” I said. A pulse beat toward Jack’s throat and I wondered if that was his tell. It beat faster as soon as he started talking about his mother. “I think I would have gone with a more modern, less ostentatious flair.”

  Jack nodded. “Maybe you’ll still get the chance. That’s what you’re after, isn’t it?”

  It was bait I was smart enough not to take. So I cast my own. “What are you after? Seth got everything, didn’t he? But you ... you’ve always done fine on your own, haven’t you? What could Seth possibly have that you still want?”

  I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear. Something in Jack’s expression shifted when I did it. He froze; the smirk melted off his face and a shadow came over him. He moved in close and cupped his hand around the back of my head, tilting it sideways. His breath was hot against my cheek. Until now, it was Miranda’s scent, Miranda’s presence that filled my senses in this house. In an instant, Jack Manning wiped all of that away.

  I misread the gesture as he came close to me. Or maybe I didn’t. But when Jack’s skin touched mine, it ignited something that I’d known was there from the second I saw him. My flesh burned hot where he touched me. I took in his clean, musky scent. My eyes lo
cked with his. His brown eyes widened and flashed, seeing something in mine that he maybe hadn’t expected.

  I could say I don’t know why I did it. I could say it just happened. But that would be yet another lie. I wanted him. I wanted something that was real even if it was just for one moment.

  Jack brushed my earlobe with his thumb and I brought my hands up, sliding them across his shoulders and up along the back of his neck. I drew him down to me and brought my lips to his.

  I kissed him.

  There was the slightest tension in his arms but then he responded. Jack pulled me against him so every part of me touched him. I might have been naked since I had only the thin silk of my dress protecting my skin from his touch. His chest was firm and warm, his skin hot under my fingers as I drew him down even closer. As I pulled him forward, his weight pressed me further on the desk. He kissed me back slow and deep, his tongue probing, his lips a feathery touch against mine. He was holding back. When he finally broke away, the pulse at his throat beat furiously. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath.

  Jack didn’t say anything but kept his eyes locked with mine until he took two steps backward and turned toward the door. He took the knob in his hand and for an instant I thought he was leaving. Instead, he quietly closed the door and engaged the lock. Then he turned back toward me, his eyes smoldering. Heat flared between my legs as he came back to me with four strong strides.

  Chapter Five

  It took one second for Jack to reach me as I sat frozen on Miranda’s desk, my heart beating fast behind my rib cage. He stopped, planting one hand on either side of my thighs, bracing himself against her desk and caging me between his powerful arms. His eyes held a question. Is this what you want? My mind held a thousand reasons to say no but each one was a lie. I let my body answer with the truth.

  I raised my hands up again; locking my fingers at the back of his neck I drew him down toward me again. I was hungry for another kiss. This time, I knew he wouldn’t hold back.