He’d been nothing but a drunk, violent storm the last six years, ever since Elizabeth had died, and this twelve month hiatus was almost over. Much longer away from the screen and he’d be forgotten by his public, obsolete. He only had so much time to clean up his act.
Getting his career back on track meant he could go back to ignoring the pain. All work and no play, would make Beck a dull boy, but he’d be a sober dull boy. He’d be able to forget who and what he was.
A monster.
That was the sole reason he’d changed his name seventeen years ago. A decision forced by his father, so Beck wouldn’t bring any more shame to his family after the accident that ruined Jude Duffy’s life, and started his descent toward self-destruction. Fine by him. He didn’t want anyone delving into his past. Gabriel Beckette Slauter did not exist anymore. Not to him, and not to his family. Only the phantom, Beckette Slader, remained.
Beck finished his shower and dressed for bed. He bunked in the lower level since he was only staff. The place suited him—cold, bleak, alone…haunted. His AA sponsor figured doing a little grunge work would help him “find himself.” His agent had suggested volunteering for this twelve month, maintenance man stint at Castle Alainn—which supported many non-profit organizations similar to his own, Angel Wings—would help his recovery and endear him to the producers of Dark Hallows.
All the freaking restraint of the past twelve months was probably why he couldn’t get Ms. Jude Duffy out of his mind.
He needed to get laid.
He didn’t do relationships anymore. He just needed a good fuck. ʼCause there were no such things as fairy-tale spells, and curses that granted secret desires. If there were, he’d have no dark past to keep from her, no daily recovery to saddle her with. And he’d have her here, writhing in his arms, while he fucked her senseless and kept her safe from assholes like himself.
Naive women like Jude Duffy, knew nothing of the games damaged men could play, and they could not be left to their own devices. They needed to be saved, but he’d be damned if he was the one for the job.
He was no savior.
No, quite the opposite.
He was a murderer.
Three
“Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I’m not sure about the former.”
Albert Einstein
Someone had poured a box of stale baking soda in Jude’s mouth and her stomach was not happy about it.
She gingerly rolled over to the crackle of crunchy sheets. Everything hurt and, as the room spun, her belly contested. Something poked her back. She reached underneath her and pulled out a wrinkled Almond Joy wrapper.
She loved Almond Joys, but hadn’t had one in over a year. Not since her diet…since losing thirty pounds, since becoming the ignoramus anthropologist studying homosexuality, who didn’t know her own fiancé was gay.
“You look…nice.”
The feminine voice came from the entryway to the beautiful suite she’d been assigned. Jude risked opening one eye and found a tiny, twenty-something girl with black, pixie-ish hair smiling down at her.
“I don’t feel nice.”
“No, I don’t imagine you do. Almond Joys?”
Jude managed to swallow, regardless of the absence of saliva in her mouth. “They’re like Mounds, but with little, nutty bundles of happiness stuck inside. I love Almond Joys.” She sighed.
“Yes, I can see that.” The girl’s smile was sheerly radiant. She stuck out her hand. “Nola Stonewater. I’ll be your maid and assistant during your stay.”
“Jude, Jude Duffy…previously known as Dr. Duffy. Why are you in my room, witnessing my unabridged demoralization, instead of outside knocking like a normal maid?”
“You didn’t answer my knock, so I assumed you were out.”
Jude lifted her head and squinted at the clock, the green blur reminding her of a certain misplaced, angry glare. She frowned, vaguely remembering The Beast from last night. Put any man with a morose, chiseled face in a black turtle neck, black pants, and a dark room and he’d look like Dracula. Especially if one had a few too many Long Island Iced Teas. “What time is it?”
“Time for you to get up. You’re in the castle of secret desires, you know. You won this contest. It’s time you enjoyed it.”
Jude pulled the pillow over her head and rolled away from her tormentor. “I don’t believe in secrets, or desires, or enjoyment. My life is over.”
The bed sank under the weight of Jude’s perky maid. Jude didn’t like perky. She only liked Almond Joys.
“If it’s over, that means you get to start again. Out with the old Ms. Duffy and in with the new.”
Jude sat up a little too quickly. Her stomach knotted as bile screamed up the back of her throat. She scrambled out of bed and ran past the fireplace to the large, tiled bathroom. She slammed the door on her self-appointed “Fairy Godmaid”, and tried in vain to vomit.
This was why she hated frivolity. It was unsafe and likely to produce vomiting.
She hung over the doubtlessly germ-infested toilet, no sanitizing wipes in sight. Chaos, anarchy, pandemonium…they all brought destruction. And she’d had enough destruction in her life.
What had happened last night? Had she actually hungered to sleep with a total stranger? The thought was preposterous. She sighed and rested her head on her forearm. The thought was…freeing.
“You okay? I could get you a few more Almond Joys, if you’d like.” Nola’s lilting voice beckoned through the thick mahogany door. Jude sat back on the black and white mosaic tiled floor, and leaned against the wall. Maybe a nice bath in the claw-foot tub would calm her.
She smiled. The thought brought on images of her spinster Aunt Agnes—the woman who’d sent Jude here as her dying wish. The woman who had taken her in when she was seventeen, ever since the day her famous rock and roll parents had died in that horrific plane crash—on their way to another tour, another adrenaline rush, another journey in search of fame and glory.
Away from her.
Fame had taken them from her, month after month. Right up until the day they’d died.
And then there was Evan, leaving her alone, humiliating her for the sake of a boost in his acting career.
She hated fame and all those who heeded the calling. People who needed the attention and adoration of total strangers to feel good about themselves.
“Hey! You coming out, or are you staying in there the whole week?”
Fairy Godmaid. Jude would’ve loved to stay in the opulent bathroom for the whole week. She could survive here…with enough Almond Joys. But that was cowardly. And Jude Duffy had been cowardly far too long.
She rose off the floor and bent over the sink to wash her face. She dropped her head and drank from the faucet. She’d hit an all-time low.
The door opened behind her.
“I’m almost done,” she gurgled. “I’ll be right out.”
“I hope you’re not done, ʼcause if you go out looking like that, you’ll scare the shit out of the other guests.”
Jude jolted, keeping her head in the sink, her lips at the faucet. That was not the melodic voice of her Fairy Godmaid. That was the voice of pure malevolent sin.
The Beast.
“I wanted to check and make sure you were okay this morning.”
Jude lifted her head and squinted at his reflection in the mirror. He still looked magnificent. His eyes were brighter than she remembered, a shocking amber-gold framed by chiseled, impassive features.
“Are you one of those natural-type girls who doesn’t bathe or shave, thinking you’re savin’ the environment?”
Her gaze shifted to her own reflection…
“Shit! Get out! Now!” She slammed the door and rested her back against it, risking another glance at her reprehensible appearance. Her normally tamed, mechanically straightened hair was frizzled, tangled, and practically undulating on the right side. The left side was matted flat, an Almond Joy wrapper stuck with a bit of lef
tover chocolate. Probably the same chocolate that was stuck on her left cheek.
Frivolity sucked.
Nola pushed her way in. “He’s gone. You can come out now.”
Odd how, in her lowest moment of fragmentation and debasement, a Fairy Godmaid was comforting. Must’ve been the leftover alcohol numbing her intelligence and pragmatic fortitude.
“It’s okay. Cross my heart, it’s just you and me. He was just stopping by after he left Miss Carmichael’s room this morning.”
Jude snorted. Figures. Professional, hot, male-escort-vampire had turned down frumpy her last night for… “Ms. Carmichael.” She sneered. They’d probably done all sorts of nasty, sexual, beastly things. Things she knew nothing about.
She’d done what? Saved her virginity for the man she was going to marry? A gay man?
Jude shook her head and sidestepped her way past Nola to the closet. She flung hangers side to side, looking for something to wear for lunch.
Nola pulled the Almond Joy wrapper from Jude’s hair. “The castle is rumored to be haunted in October, you know.”
The tilted grin and raised brows on her maid’s face made Jude chuckle. “I’m sure.” She picked out a black, silk blouse and khaki trousers.
“You don’t look like the I-believe-in-ghosts kind of girl.” Nola bent and selected the wedge heels that matched Jude’s outfit.
“I’m afraid not. I’m logical, steadfast, and immune to levity.” Jude stilled, her mind categorizing the adjectives she’d chosen to describe herself. She was officially, a spinster. Either that, or a golden retriever…or a civil war General, depending on how one viewed it.
Defeat permeated every muscle in her body, and she sank to the floor right in front of her closet.
“Ms. Duffy? Are you okay?” Nola sat cross-legged next to her.
A thirty-eight-year-old, boring, virgin, spinster. Alone, for the rest of her life.
“I’ve never even experienced an orgasm,” Jude whispered. “I’ve been so busy with my work, I never had time.”
Nola coughed. “That might be a little more info than I was looking for, but, okay. Get it all out.” She rubbed Jude’s back.
Her tears fell, and the anguish of a life of loneliness poured over her like molten lava. She didn’t want to be alone. She’d been alone her whole life.
“That’s it, Doc. Just get it out, then we’ll start anew.”
“I don’t want to start anew! I want a do-over!” Jude flopped back on the floor, executing what she imagined was the proper technique for a midlife temper tantrum. She’d never had one. She’d always been so composed. “I want to go back and be wild and impetuous and…and promiscuous!”
“That a girl. Reach deep.”
“I want to not meet my deadlines, and use my eating utensils without cleaning them first. I want to run barefoot outside and risk fungal infections. I want to use profanity!”
“Let’s hear it!”
Jude looked at her Fairy Godmaid and settled her teeth on her bottom lip. “F-f-f…” She shook her head. “I can’t do it. That’s too vulgar.”
“Okay, let’s start small. How about…” Nola’s lips twisted. “Son of a bitch.”
A smile curved the edges of Jude’s lips. “Evan Maddox is a son of a bitch!” She expelled a huge sigh. “God, that felt good.” She frowned. “But so disdainfully shallow.”
“We need to bottom out before we can rebuild,” Nola cooed.
Jude’s hopelessness rekindled. “I’m afraid I’m…un-rebuildable.” She sniffled and rolled onto her side, a fetal position for ruminating. “I’m doomed to be alone forever.”
A new Jude? Ridiculous, but she did have dreams and she did have needs; ones she’d never allowed herself to ponder upon for fear of being…selfish…non-benevolent…imperiously self-involved like so many of her peers.
Like her parents and then Evan, when they’d abandoned her over and over again in pursuit of their own dreams.
Could she be different? Could there be a happy medium? Had she given up reaching for the things she wanted from life, as penance over some misconstrued sense of unworthiness?
She flipped to her stomach and propped herself on her elbows. “Reinvention brings conflict. Conflict is disconcerting to me.”
“Aw, honey. A little conflict is good for the soul. It lets us know what we’re made of.”
She rested her face in her palms. “I should be content with my life.”
Nola frowned. “Content? That sounds like the thoughts of an abandon dog at the pound. You deserve more.” She smiled that impish smile. “What do you want, Jude Duffy?”
Jude rested her chin on the backs of her hands. Lying on any floor was emphatically disgusting. She hardly recognized herself. Maybe that was a good thing because, so far, being Dr. Jude Duffy had yielded very little happiness.
“A child.” Someone to love, a family. She’d never been part of a real family. She wanted one of her own. “I’ve published a few children’s books between my journal publications.”
Fairy Godmother became silent for a moment. “Wow. I was really hoping for easy. Like a new job or a better haircut or something.” Nola stood, grabbed Jude’s hand and pulled her to her unsteady feet. “But we can work with that. You’re at Castle Alainn in the most mystical month of the year. October is when the ghosts of the Tragic Lovers haunt, looking for star-crossed lovers to unite. What about a nice man to date?”
Jude slumped. “Yes, I suppose I’m asking for too much.” She didn’t really want a man. They were…recalcitrant at best and had never brought her happiness. She just wanted the baby one could provide.
“What about adoption?”
Jude shook her head. Her co-worker had waited seven years for her adoption to become final. “I’m too old to wait for the paperwork to go through.”
“Artificial insemination?”
She grimaced. “One doesn’t really know whose genes are in that tube. I’d like to at least know something about my child’s father’s genetics. Only…” She turned her back on Nola and rummaged through her shoe selection for the week.
“What?” Nola encouraged.
Jude sighed and turned to her confidant. “I’ve only had one man interested in me my whole life. And he was gay. Those are not promising statistics.”
“Statistics shouldn’t be applied to love.” Nola rested her hands on her slim hips. “Let’s start with having a little fun getting to know the new Ms. Duffy. Now get dressed and be down in the lobby in thirty minutes. I have a feeling your life is about to get interesting.”
Nola closed Jude’s suitcase and stowed it in the closet. She walked toward the suite door, then turned back with a smile. “One never knows when one’s destiny will be fulfilled.”
She winked and left Jude to her own thoughts…and her hair.
Who the heck “one” was, Jude had no idea. Certainly not her.
She flicked on the TV to some talk show. She never watched TV and this ridiculousness was exactly why.
Her stomach heaved as she recognized Evan and Timothy on USA Buzz, introducing their new reality show and the surrogate who would deliver their love child. Jude had made them famous.
She dropped to the bed and stared at the screen.
“Our little bundle of joy is due in May!”
Jude flinched at Evan’s words. He’d wanted to wait to have sex, to have a family. How ironic is it that his new lover had achieved all she’d ever wanted, without even having the right parts.
A steel knife jabbed her windpipe, her heart fractured in two. Was she destined to be alone forever? Or could Nola be right?
Not that she didn’t like herself, but there was certainly room for improvement. She was a product of her upbringing—afraid to live on the edge, frightened of any loss of control. But where had that gotten her?
Jude fell back on the bed, a disreputable thought squeezing through her mind. She was thirty-eight with only one superficial relationship behind her. Her chance of securing anot
her relationship before her eggs dried up, was close to non-existent. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
She lifted her head just in time to see the sonogram of Evan’s child as he lay protected in the surrogate’s womb.
Could she do it?
She dropped her head and stared at the ceiling a second time. The Gigolo Beast. Now there were some impressive, non-committal genetics. Genetics that didn’t necessarily have to be attracted to her. They could be paid for. No messy emotions, no regrets.
Jude rolled to the side onto her elbow and dug through the welcome basket on her nightstand for a directory of services. Chocolates, hand cream, Vitamin B, an ice pack, a banana… Hangover cures? How strange. And a romance novel…Flirting With Sin by Naima Simone.
Sin…how apropos. This Simone chick was eerily psychic.
Jude glanced toward the mirror on the wall. Yes, she was flirting with sin, but she had no choice. She squinted to blur her reflection. She had potential, but more importantly, she had an understanding of the male psyche, and the workings of the human species’ innate need to procreate.
Yes, she’d have to work with her strengths. She sighed, as an errant curl sprang from what was left of her chignon. And hide her weaknesses.
Goodbye, staid, stuffy, Duffy.
Hello, sinner.
Four
“The devil has put a penalty on all things we enjoy in life. Either we suffer in health or we suffer in soul or we get fat.”
Albert Einstein
Thirty minutes later, Jude entered the lobby of Castle Alainn, secretly tugging at the seat of her too-tight trousers. She took a deep breath to settle her pounding pulse and reached for the comfort of the Almond Joy in her pocket.
She was a household joke. The people bustling around the lobby possibly knew of her pitiful circumstances, her miscalculations, her naivety in the face of relationships.
Flirting With Disaster Page 2
