Legacy of Lies

by Tara Leigh

  She crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. “I don’t think so, Jolie. I’ve been very good to you, letting you be so involved in your little sister’s life. But if you’re not going to be a good influence on her, if you’re going to allow a Montgomery in your life—then neither of you will have anything to do with Romy.”

  I opened and closed my mouth several times, a rush of words creating a dam in my throat. “Are you saying you’re a good influence? Romy might have grown up in a stable, loving, two-parent home if not for your scheming.”

  Nina didn’t have any trouble articulating her thoughts. “Scheming? That’s the way you describe how I saved you from being tainted by the Montgomerys? You should be thanking me. Tripp is named for a man that bilked thousands of people out of their life savings. Have you forgotten that we were practically driven from Manhattan like lepers after your father’s death?”

  “Romy is the only reason I didn’t wash my hands of you years ago. I felt badly for you—poor little rich girl who lost both her parents and all her riches. But then you got pregnant. You.” She spat the word, her eyes flashing. “After I’d spent years—years—doing everything medically possible to have a baby.”

  “I’ve made my amends to you, Jolie. Things with your father, with his business, went way further than I could ever have anticipated. But I launched your modeling career. Put you in a position to have your own business. And now you want to hand over Romy—my daughter—to a Montgomery on a silver platter.” The veins in her neck stood out like gnarled vines wrapping around a Corinthian column. “I’m not going to let you do that, Jolie. Not today, not ever.”

  My eyes blurred as I stared at Nina, trying to absorb her tirade. Nothing about our conversation had gone the way I’d hoped.

  If I was being honest with myself, it couldn’t have gone much worse.

  Standing across from her now, I was doubting every choice I’d made over the past decade. If I thought I had a leg to stand on with the truth on my side—that Romy was my and Tripp’s biological daughter, and that Nina had intentionally conspired to turn me against Tripp at an incredibly fragile, chaotic time in my life—she’d just kicked it out from under me.

  It felt like a long time before I gathered the strength to cross the room, my fingers gripping the handle of the sliding door and stepping out onto the back patio. As the cold air rushed at me, some of Nina’s words echoed more loudly than the rest.

  I tried to be friends with Tripp’s mother.

  The situation with your father got out of control.

  I told him to cut ties with the Montgomerys.

  Amends.

  I turned back, seeing that Nina was already topping up her wine glass. “It was you.”

  I wasn’t referring to the damned text.

  The pieces of this jigsaw puzzle were finally beginning to come together and the image that had been revealed was almost too painful too look at. Nina felt snubbed by the Montgomerys. She wanted more of my father’s attention. And she was desperately unhappy that she’d been unable to conceive a child.

  I wanted to close my eyes, to look away . . . but that’s exactly what I’d done my entire life. Shying away not from hard work, but from hard choices. Well, that was going to stop here and now.

  Accusing Nina of tipping off the reporter was a stretch, but instinct told me it was the truth.

  And even though I didn’t spell it out, the flash of panic that skittered across Nina’s expression before she schooled it into a nonchalant mask told me she knew exactly what I meant. Her crystal goblet glinted in the afternoon sunlight as she took a hearty sip before setting it down on the countertop. “So what if it was?”

  43

  Tripp

  Jolie stepped from the house onto the stone terrace, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist as if she was a cadaver that had somehow managed to walk out of the morgue.

  It was obvious she was barely holding herself together. Even Romy noticed, the Frisbee I just tossed sailing over her head. “You’re leaving already?” she called, trotting over from the other side of the yard.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Jolie said, her chin quivering slightly as Romy ran straight into her arms.

  Our eyes met over our daughter’s head in an electrified clash. For the longest moment, we just stared at each other, the openness and vulnerability and yes, fear, in her expression starkly visible. Jolie wasn’t hiding anything from me anymore.

  The fullness that swelled inside my chest expanded even further, my ribs nearly cracking from the strain. How was it possible to hold this much love inside my body? And why had I ever thought love would feel like sunshine and rainbows? It didn’t. The love I felt for Romy, for Jolie—it was fierce and possessive and pervasive. Invading every crevice, every cell, every atom of my being.

  And fuck it felt good.

  “When will I see you again?” Romy whispered against Jolie’s chest, glancing at me as if to include me in her question.

  “Soon, I promise.” Jolie blinked, her eyes sliding away from mine as she pressed a kiss to Romy’s head. Heartache was written in the groove between her brows, the press of her lips, the single tear snaking its way down her satiny skin.

  I wrapped an arm around both of them, breathing in their dueling shampoos—apple for Romy and an elusive floral for Jolie.

  Too soon, I was opening the passenger side door for Jolie, hating like hell that we were leaving our daughter behind. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right at all.

  I tapped the horn twice as we pulled out of the driveway, both of us waving out our windows until the little girl waving back at us was no longer visible.

  “Jesus,” I said. “Is it always like that, leaving her?”

  Jolie made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “It’s never been easy, but lately it’s so much worse.”

  I started heading for the highway before realizing that there was no way I could drive all the way back to Manhattan with my sanity intact tonight. Jolie and I had to talk, come up with a plan. And I didn’t want to do it while staring through the windshield. I ached with the need to hold her in my arms, sooth her with my touch.

  Fortunately, we were in New England, home of the quaint, slightly shabby bed and breakfast. Hell, I’d have settled for a Motel 6.

  Entering a few commands into my phone, I headed toward the nearest B&B.

  The Nutmeg Inn was a sprawling white Georgian, festooned with patriotic striped bunting. The only decoration I cared about was the small plaque with ‘Rooms Available’ written in discreet black lettering.

  Five minutes later, we were in a large bedroom dominated by a carved mahogany four-poster bed. And flowers. They were everywhere—wallpaper, bedspread, chairs, pillows, paintings. Everywhere but an actual vase.

  Jolie’s lips twitched, color coming back into her face. “Wow, someone really likes chintz.”

  I didn’t know what chintz was, although I assumed it had something to do with the floral explosion. With a grunt of acknowledgement, I pulled Jolie toward me, needing to feel her, touch her, taste her. A long, lingering kiss, my hands holding her face at the perfect angle to explore her delicious mouth. Her arms trembled as they wrapped around my neck, fingers interlocking as her thumbs tucked behind my ears. My swelling cock pressed against Jolie’s lower belly, her breasts flattening against my chest. We fit together, so damn well.

  I pulled away with a ragged groan, roughing hands through my hair even as I grinned down at Jolie’s slightly dazed expression.

  A grin that died as reality rushed into the space between us, sadness stealing onto Jolie’s face. “What are we doing?” she whispered mournfully.

  Taking her hand, I led her to the two wing chairs at the end of the bed. We didn’t need two of them though. I sat down, positioning Jolie on my lap, needing to have this conversation with her in my arms.

  She settled into me with a quiet sigh, resting her head against my chest, her blonde mane tumbling over my shoulder. “I hope
we’re trying to build a life together, Jolie. You, me, and Romy.” Feeling her stiffen against me, I amended my statement. “And yes, I realize that Romy’s life will always include Nina.” I wasn’t happy about it, but Romy’s welfare would have to come first.

  “I want that, too. More than anything.” She angled her face to stare up at me, the deepest blue shining with tenderness. “Even when I was trying to hate you, I still loved you. That was the only reason I could hate you—because I loved you so damn much.”

  A laugh shuddered from my throat. “I never stopped loving you. Ever. But knowing what my father did, all those people he hurt, my head was so fucked up for so long . . . I’m glad you didn’t have to see me like that.” I paused. “Not that I’m at all happy about the years we lost together, or that I missed out on so much of Romy’s childhood.”

  Jolie placed a soothing palm on my chest as the familiar burn of anger simmered within my veins. “What’s done is done. Let’s focus on what we can fix, okay?”

  I leveled a serious stare her way. “Just so we’re clear—we’re doing this together. You and me, we’re a team, and we’re fighting for our daughter. No more lies. No more secrets.”

  She didn’t look away, her lips curving into a smile that grew wider with each word. “No more lies. No more secrets. A family.”

  A family.

  No matter how much money I had to spend, or what strings I had to pull, we would be a family. There were benefits to being a billionaire, and I’d exploit every last one of them to get our daughter back. A family I’d fight for with every last breath.

  Jolie slid off my lap and stood in front of me. Her hands fluttered to the neck of her blouse, unfastening the line of buttons to reveal a delicate lace bra that was the palest shade of pink. Leaving her shirt on, she tugged at the waist of her jeans, lowering the placket of her zipper and exposing a flat stomach above a tiny pink triangle that matched her bra, then shimmied out of them entirely until they were a just dark pool of denim at her feet.

  I knew what she was doing. Searching for control in a world that had stolen hers. Wanting to end this conversation on a good note, before we had a chance to descend into regrets and recrimination. There were so many of those, lying in wait just below the surface. The merest scratch would have them bleeding out, staining this tender truce.

  And it was working. My own jeans were growing tighter with each glimpse of velvet skin that had been hidden beneath so many layers. And that hair. It fell against her neck, ribbons of gold and honey and flax. Countless shades of blonde.

  Jolie was watching me watching her, and I sure as fuck hoped she was reading the adoration in my gaze. Her own eyes were dark with hunger, her flushed skin as pink as her panties. “Your turn,” she whispered.

  I shed my clothes quickly, then pushed Jolie’s shirt off her shoulders and bent to suck one of her nipples into my mouth. Tempting little peaks, they would have been invisible, except for where they poked through the whisper-thin fabric. I licked at the lace until I grew impatient with the barrier between my mouth and her skin, reaching behind her back to unclasp it entirely.

  Jolie’s hands slid up my chest, her fingers curling around my neck as she arched her back and moaned. A husky, needy sound that had my cock twitching in response.

  When I came up for air, Jolie pushed me against a wall. The two sconces on either side of the bed gave off just enough light to catch the sensual expression that had settled on Jolie’s angelic features.

  “I can see your heartbeat,” she whispered.

  My heart beats for you.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She took her index finger and slid it across my neck, just below my jaw. “Right here. It’s going so fast, like you’re in a race.”

  I shook my head, something coming loose inside of me. “No. No more running. Want to know what I really want?” I asked gruffly.

  Jolie nodded.

  “I want to believe the fire between us hasn’t burned us both to ash. That we’ve been tempered by it, forged into steel. I want to own you and be owned by you. And I want to fuck you like you feel the same damn way.” I paused, staring down at her. “And later, I want to make love to you. Leisurely, thoroughly. Like we have all the time in the world. Because we do—we have the rest of our lives.”

  Jolie’s lips parted on a sigh. “You’re . . . amazing. And you will, after I do this.” She dropped her hand and leaned forward, her breath a warm caress over the place her finger had been a moment ago. I groaned a curse as she kissed her way down my chest, her lips leaving a trail of sparks in their wake.

  Until she dropped to her knees and caused a goddamn inferno.

  I plunged my hands inside her hair, fisting the golden strands tight against her scalp. My pulse ran faster, harder, hotter.

  Jolie’s fingers wrapped around my swollen cock, holding me like a microphone to her lips, her tongue sweeping over the tip of my crown. I sucked in a harsh breath, my brain overheating. She gave little licks, tasting me, before finally opening her lips and drawing me into the warm cave of her mouth, sucking sweetly. My breath blew out a stream of guttural curses. Jolie’s mouth was so fucking hot, so fucking good.

  At the sight of those pretty pink lips sliding over my shaft, it was amazing that I could remain standing. To be on the safe side, I widened my stance, cocking my head to the side for a better view.

  One hand gripping the base, Jolie worked her mouth up and down, sucking and licking and doing things I couldn’t see but felt fucking amazing. Sensations pounded my brain, and I would have closed my eyes if the image of Jolie—on her knees, tendrils of hair that had escaped my grip sliding across the smooth expanse of her back, a tiny wisp of pink fabric disappearing into the narrow cleft of her ass—wasn’t the sexiest goddam thing I’d ever seen. A princess taking me to heaven.

  Clenching my jaw, I struggled to hold onto some sliver of control when the asshole inside of me wanted to take full advantage of the trust she’d placed in me by surging forward and burying myself in her throat. The need to pump my hips warred with my desire to stay still, to revel in the moment and enjoy the view.

  But it was getting harder.

  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Grabbing Jolie beneath her arms, I set her down on the edge of the bed and fell to my knees, sliding that flimsy excuse for underwear down to her ankles and throwing her legs over my shoulders. My cock needed a few minutes before sliding between Jolie’s thighs or he’d go off like a firecracker with a short fuse.

  Jolie’s gasp stretched into a groan as I scraped my scruff-roughened chin along the insides of her knees, wrapping my arms around her hips and pulling her ass to the very edge of the mattress.

  I buried my face between her thighs. Already wet and wanting, Jolie tasted decadently sweet. Exploring every crevice and fold, I slipped two fingers inside of her, loving how her muscles clenched around them as she gave a jagged little moan. Her hips came up, rocking against my face in an insistent, instinctive rhythm.

  Jesus. I’d planned to get myself under control while going down on Jolie but her movements, her mumblings—my dick was throbbing more now than when it had been inside her mouth. What was it about this girl? She was intoxicating. Incredible. Everything.

  Jolie was unraveling, her hands plunging into my hair, kneading my scalp. “Tripp.” My name was a squeal as Jolie’s entire body shook from her climax, her legs trembling on my shoulders, her hot center clamping down on my fingers, muscles coiling in on themselves until suddenly going slack. Breathing out a sweet sigh.

  Gently, I pushed her into the middle of the bed and crawled over her, pausing only to plant wet, lingering kisses on her belly and breasts before covering her mouth with mine. “I fucking love you, Jolie Chapman.” My lips formed a seal, holding in all the love, all the hope, all the squishy emotions boys are taught to ignore and the harder, possessive emotions we’re taught to exhibit. I kissed her with every ounce of want and worship running through my veins.

  And w
hen I finally pulled away, her eyes were glistening and there were streaks of moisture running along her temples. “Hey, what’s—”

  “Nothing,” she answered quickly. Too quickly.

  “That look wasn’t nothing,” I said, pressing my knee into the mattress. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, of course not.” Jolie shook her head and turned back toward me. “It’s just . . . That kiss felt like a goodbye.”

  “It was,” I admitted. “But to the past, not to you. You and Romy, you’re my future.” My hand curved around Jolie’s cheek to tangle in her hair, my thumb brushing over her wet, silky skin. “You’re my everything.”

  Jolie blinked, her swollen lips curving into a wanton smile. “Make love to me, Tripp. Make love to me like this is the first night of our forever.”

  I went to reach for a condom but she pulled me back. “I’m on the pill. And the only time I ever—”

  “Same,” I interrupted, knowing exactly what she was going to say. The one and only time I’d ever gone bare was the morning we’d conceived Romy.

  Our skin slid against each other as my hips ground into her inner thighs. I surged forward, my cock welcomed into Jolie’s heat. “Fuck, Jolie,” I groaned. “This. You. Heaven.” I couldn’t complete a sentence, my thoughts chaotic and messy. Why did it take us so long to get back here?

  I pulled out again, then slowly sank back in, setting up a rhythm dictated by Jolie’s grasping hands, her rocking hips. A fire raced through me, starting at the place we were joined together and then traveling outward through every limb. She moaned into my mouth and I swear her breath was laced with adrenaline.

  Giving thanks that we’d finally found each other again, I lost myself in her body. In the breathless pants and urgent squeals that filled my ears. In the grip of her hands on my shoulders and the scrape of her nails on my back.