Keeping Her

by Allie Everhart

  "Fuck," he mutters under his breath as he searches the room for Jack. His eyes dart back to mine. "Who else did you tell?"

  "Royce Sinclair."

  He huffs. "I'm not worried about him. He lies so much that nobody would ever believe him."

  "I need to speak to some of the other members. Tell Mother I said hello."

  I walk off to the side of the room, then stop to finish my drink. I scan the area around me for a place to set my glass.

  "I'll take it." A tall blond woman walks up to me, holding a tray. She's dressed in a very short black skirt and a white blouse that can barely contain her breasts. She looks familiar. I glance down at her long legs, down to her very high heels. I notice a fake diamond bracelet on her ankle, and that's when I remember her. I rarely looked at their faces. I always focused on their bodies, and I remember seeing that bracelet before.

  She's an associate. I've slept with her. Many times.

  She leans over and whispers in my ear. "Do you want my card?"

  "What card?"

  "My reservation card."

  "And what am I reserving?"

  "Me." She says it in my ear, then backs away. "It's something new they're trying. They want to make things more organized. You reserve a girl now, then meet up with her after dinner. That way, there's no fighting over a certain girl. You get whoever's card you reserved." She smiles. "Come on, Pearce. We always had fun together. And you're running out of options. The cards are going fast."

  "I'm married. I won't be taking a card this evening."

  She laughs. "Almost every guy in here is married."

  "Well, regardless, I will not be taking a card."

  She shrugs. "Whatever." She walks off toward another man who's looking for a place to put his empty glass. I'm sure he'll accept her offer.

  I glance around, wondering who else I could talk to in order to pass the time until dinner starts. As my eyes wander the crowd, I see Shelby. Shit. I totally forgot about her being here. I'm so used to seeing her as Rachel's friend and not an associate that I didn't even think about her being here.

  I make my way over to her. She's taking empty glasses from a group of men. They're talking and not paying attention to her.

  I walk up to her. "I need to talk to you."

  She seems surprised seeing me here. I guess she, too, forgot about this secret we share. I think we both try to pretend this part of our lives doesn't exist.

  I move off to the side and wait for her to come over. When she does, I say, "Give me your card."

  "What?" She looks at me with disgust. "You're already cheating on her? And you're choosing me?"

  I sigh. "No. I'm not interested in that." I lower my voice. "I need your card so you don't end up with someone else. After dinner, we'll go to one of the rooms, then wait for an hour and leave."

  She nods, looking nervous as she takes the card from her pocket. "What if someone sees us?"

  "They all cheat. They won't think anything of it."

  "That's not what I mean. What if someone tells Rachel?"

  "That can't happen. Nobody is allowed to talk about this." I step closer to her and lower my voice to just above a whisper. "I'm only doing this to help you. Now do you want my help or not?"

  "Yes," she says quietly.

  I step back. "As for your friendship with Rachel, it needs to end. If anyone saw the two of you together—"

  "No. I can't lose her. She's one of my only friends."

  "You know they won't allow it. My wife cannot be friends with someone like you."

  She drops her head in shame.

  "Shelby, I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to say it that way."

  "No, it's true. I just don't want to stop being friends with her."

  "I know you don't, but you need to end the friendship. You also need to stop seeing Logan."

  She frowns. "I know. But I don't want to let him go." She looks up at me. "I love him."

  I check around me, making sure nobody's listening. "You love Logan?"

  "Yes. And he loves me. He told me the other night. He's moving here in a month. Well, to Westport. He took a job there."

  "It'll never work. You know that."

  "It's not against the rules."

  "It doesn't matter. Once he finds out about you, your relationship will end, and the longer you keep this going, the harder it'll be when it's over." I see William Sinclair coming toward me. "I have to go," I say to Shelby. "I'll see you after dinner."

  She walks off and I turn to William. "William, good to see you again."

  We talk for the rest of the cocktail hour, then everyone goes in another room for dinner. Afterward, I sneak out and meet Shelby in the hall.

  "Nobody's watching," I say to her. "They're all still in the dining room and too drunk to notice I left. Just go. You'll be fine."

  She points to her outfit. "I need to change clothes. Can you let me into one of the rooms?"

  "Of course." I take her bag that contains her clothes and we go down to my room. We were all given a hotel room to use for when we were ready to be alone with our chosen associate. I open the door and step inside, setting the bag down. "Goodnight, Shelby."

  "Goodnight."

  I exit the room and go out to my car. I'm sure I'm the first one to leave, but I want to go home. It may be an empty home without Rachel there, but it's better than being here. And as soon as I'm home, I can call her. Because I need to. I need to hear her voice.

  After a day immersed in the darkness that is Dunamis, I need some light. And that light is Rachel.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  One Week Later

  RACHEL

  It was great being in Indiana last week, seeing my friends and family, but I couldn't wait to get back home to Pearce. While I was away, I realized that even though I've lived in Connecticut for a year and a half, I never considered it home until I married Pearce. But now that we're starting our life together here, it truly feels like home.

  Last weekend, Pearce and I celebrated New Year's. We could've gone to one of the numerous parties Pearce was invited to, but instead we went out for a nice dinner, then rang in the New Year at home. After a week apart, we wanted to be alone together. I'd really missed him. I wasn't able to talk to him much last week because he was at that conference.

  I didn't ask Pearce much about the conference because I could tell he didn't want to talk about it. He seemed really stressed when I got home on Saturday so I'm wondering what happened. I'm guessing he had a fight with his father, and if so, I need to wait for him to tell me about it. Or maybe he just wants to forget it. I know this is hard on him, having his father reject him this way. But I keep thinking it's for the best. Maybe the two of them need some time apart. Maybe it will help his father realize what a huge mistake he made by cutting Pearce out of his life. And if not, then his father should just stay away. If Holton can't see what an amazing person his son is, then I don't want him anywhere near Pearce.

  Now that I'm back in Connecticut and done with school, I'm eager and ready to find a job. I heard back from two of the museums I applied at. They're both within an hour's drive from here, which is a long commute but manageable. My options are limited so I can't be picky. I'll take what I can get. My first interview is tomorrow and the second one is Thursday.

  Pearce has a new job. He'll be starting it later this week. He's working for his friend, Jack Ellit. Pearce told me about the job last weekend and he seems really excited about it. I met Jack when he came to my apartment a few months ago. He didn't tell me he knew Pearce and he lied about donating money to the shelter, so I wasn't thrilled that Pearce was going to work for this man. Pearce assures me Jack is a good guy, but I'm still leery of him, so we're having dinner with Jack and his wife tonight so I can get to know him better.

  We're heading over there now. Jack picked the restaurant. It's a nice place, so I'm wearing a new red dress and Pearce is wearing a suit.

  "Before we get there, I should warn you about Jack," Pearce says.


  "Now you tell me this? Right before I meet him?" I shake my head, smiling. "So what do I need to know about him?"

  "He's a little unconventional. And he doesn't have the best manners. He curses a lot. Talks with his mouth full. Doesn't filter what he says."

  I laugh. "That's it? You had me all worried it was going to be another Royce and Victoria dinner."

  "No. Not at all. Royce is disgusted by Jack. All the members—" He stops suddenly, then says, "Jack is not popular among the high-society crowd."

  "What were you saying before? The members of what?"

  He hesitates. "The country club. Jack belongs to a very exclusive country club and the members frown upon his behavior."

  "Then I'm surprised they gave him membership."

  "He's very wealthy and very successful, so he fit the criteria." Pearce parks the car and we go inside.

  The restaurant is dimly lit and I have to hold onto Pearce until my eyes adjust. The hostess leads us to the table where Jack and his wife are sitting. They both stand up.

  Jack smiles as he shakes my hand. "We meet again. Sorry for that little show I put on at your apartment." He pats Pearce's back. "I was just looking out for this guy. But he made sure to yell at me when he found out what I did." He laughs.

  At least Jack isn't pretending it didn't happen. I'm glad he came out and addressed it. It helps relieve some of the tension I was feeling upon seeing him again.

  "You'll have to excuse my husband," his wife says. "He acts first, thinks later." She smiles. "I'm Martha."

  I smile back. "It's very nice to meet you."

  We sit down and Jack says to me, "How do you like your steak?"

  I'm confused. I haven't even opened my menu. "Oh, um, I don't know if I'm ordering a steak."

  "I don't care what you order. I'm asking how you like your steak."

  Pearce leans over to me. "He asks everyone this question. Just go with it."

  "Okay, well, I like it medium rare," I say.

  He smiles at Pearce. "You picked a good one."

  "What does that mean?" I whisper to Pearce.

  Jack answers. "It means you know how to eat a steak. I was hoping you weren't one of those well-done people. I hate those people. Ruining a good steak by cooking it to death."

  Martha rolls her eyes, pointing at Jack. "He eats meat practically raw. Most restaurants won't even serve it that way."

  "Fucking food safety shit," he says. "If I want to risk getting tapeworms, or whatever the hell they think I'm going to get, it's none of their damn business."

  I smile, remembering Pearce's warnings about Jack. He is definitely different than what I expected.

  "Jack," Pearce says. "There are ladies present. Perhaps you could tone down the language tonight."

  "I'm not the one you have to worry about. Get a few drinks in Martha and she'll be swearing like a sailor."

  She just shakes her head.

  I'm trying not to laugh. These two are quite the pair. We've only been here a few minutes and they're already way more entertaining than Royce and Victoria.

  Jack is holding a glass of some kind of dark liquor. He takes a swig of it and some of it splashes on his shirt.

  "Goddammit," he mumbles, dabbing his shirt with his white cloth napkin. His wife doesn't even react. He must do this all the time.

  My eyes keep going to his tie. It's bright yellow so it really stands out against his navy pin-striped suit. His wife is wearing a yellow dress that's almost as bright as Jack's tie. The dress is a little too tight on her, the fabric clinging to her body and creating wrinkles around her chest. She's rather overweight so maybe the dress used to fit but now it doesn't.

  After we order, Martha asks me about Indiana. Unlike Victoria, Martha actually seems interested in what I'm saying. And she doesn't make any rude comments like Victoria did.

  Our meals arrive and as we're eating, Martha says to me, "You should come over to the house sometime. I'm usually around in the mornings. Stop by next week and we'll have coffee."

  "Just don't let her make it," Jack says, gnawing on his pork chop. He wouldn't order the steak after the waiter said the cook refused to serve it still bloody inside. "Martha makes terrible coffee. Worst you ever had."

  "It's true," she says. "But I'll have the housekeeper make it. Or we could skip the coffee and have a gin and tonic."

  I'm not sure if she's kidding, so I smile and say, "In the morning?"

  She shrugs. "It's the only way I can put up with Jack. Always have to have a few drinks in me."

  "Ain't that the truth." He laughs and leans over to kiss her cheek. "But you still love me, woman."

  "Unfortunately." She kisses him back.

  Jack turns to Pearce. "So are you ready for tomorrow?"

  "I thought you said Thursday."

  "What the hell day is it?"

  "Today is Monday."

  "Is it really?" He stops to think. "Doesn't matter. I want you there tomorrow."

  "What time?"

  "Ten. Is that too early?"

  Pearce chuckles. "That's practically the afternoon to me. Are you sure you don't me there earlier?"

  "What the hell for?"

  "To get started. I'm sure you have things for me to work on."

  "You can work on them after ten. Before that, you should be asleep. Or making love to your beautiful wife."

  I feel myself blushing. I can't believe he said that. But like Pearce said, Jack doesn't filter his words.

  "All right then," Pearce says. "Ten it is."

  We finish our meals, then have dessert and coffee. Pearce and I tell them about our trip to Italy and then Martha tells us about some of the trips she and Jack have taken.

  By the end of the evening, I've decided I really like Jack and Martha. Even though they're much older than Pearce and me, I'd like to have dinner with them again. And I told Martha I'd come over for coffee. But just coffee. Not gin and tonics.

  When we get home I turn on the TV and see a photo of Pearce and me from the photo shoot.

  "Pearce! We're on TV!"

  He comes over as I turn up the volume. It's a celebrity news show and the woman at the desk says, "It's almost like a fairytale. A regular, small-town girl falls in love with a billionaire. And not just any billionaire. Pearce Kensington, one of the world's most eligible bachelors."

  "Not anymore," the man next to her says. "He's now off the market. And engaged to a very beautiful woman."

  "Yes, she's simply stunning," the woman says. "They're such a gorgeous couple." She turns to face the camera. "The wedding is set for mid-March and will include six hundred guests. We'll be following the wedding preparations up until the actual day. Be sure to tune in to see the flowers, the dress, plans for the reception, and more."

  They move on to another story and I turn the volume down.

  "They're doing stories on the wedding plans?" I ask Pearce.

  "I told you this would get a lot of media coverage. This happened with my last wedding as well, but this one is getting even more publicity." He goes over to our stack of mail and pulls out a magazine and holds it up. "This just came today. I didn't have a chance to show you before we left."

  "We're on the cover?" I take the magazine from him. "This is crazy." I flip through to the story and see a two-page article about us, along with more photos. Most of the article is the interview we did, but there's also a sidebar with information about me; my hometown, my age, where I went to college, my swimming awards. "Where did they get all this information?"

  "It's all public records," Pearce says.

  I set the magazine down. "I don't like having all my personal information out there like this."

  "Unfortunately, you'll have to get used it. This is how it is, being a Kensington."

  He keeps saying that, but I'd never even heard of Pearce or his family until I met him. I never saw anything about his previous wedding on TV or in magazines, but I don't really pay attention to that type of stuff.

  I've been sta
rting to get updates about the wedding. Even though I'm not directly involved in the plans, the wedding coordinators send me packets in the mail. So far I've seen sketches of what the ballroom for the reception will look like, a list of the flowers, the menu, pictures of the cake, and photos of bridesmaid dresses. Just yesterday, they sent me photos of the wedding dresses they picked out. In a few weeks, I have to go try them on.

  I love everything I've seen so far. It's like the wedding coordinators did research on me and picked out exactly what I would like. They're doing an amazing job. Much better than I would do. This wedding is going to be gorgeous.

  The next day I go to my first job interview. It's at a medium-sized museum and includes a mix of job duties, including planning museum events. I've never done that before but I'm sure I could figure it out.

  "Have a seat," the man interviewing me says. He's an older gentleman with white hair, wearing dress pants and a tweed sport coat.

  I sit across from him and wait as he looks over my resume. I hope this isn't the first time he's reading it.

  "Rachel Evans." He glances up and to the side. "That name sounds familiar."

  I had to use my maiden name since nobody knows I'm already married.

  "I'm very impressed with your collection," I say. "I've been here many times and—"

  "Were you recently on TV?" he asks.

  "No, I don't think so," I say, not wanting to start a discussion about my wedding during a job interview. And how would this man possibly know about that? He doesn't seem like someone who follows celebrity news.

  He leans forward and waves his finger at me. "Yes. I saw your picture on TV. It was just last night. My granddaughter was over for dinner and she made us watch some show about celebrities. That's where I saw you. I remember now. You're engaged to Pearce Kensington."

  I nod. "Yes. So anyway, I'd love to learn more about the position. Could you tell me about it?"

  He stands up. "I'm sorry, Miss Evans, but we have many other candidates."

  I stand up as well. "I'm sorry, but what does that mean?"

  "It's a tough job market right now. This position needs to go to someone who actually needs a job. I can't offer it to someone who's marrying a billionaire. Just think of all the negative press we would get."