Secrets & Lies

by Lauren Landish

  “Are you always this obtuse?” I ask, and Nathan laughs softly.

  “It helps when dealing with this family. In your case however, a little guidance is perhaps in order. So, let me say, I feel your sister would not be hurt if you and Andrea did act on your attraction.”

  I nod, thinking about it, but still so unsure. “And the other thing?”

  “That women like Andrea are like the precious jewels that she took from her father. Very rare indeed. Think about it.”

  Nathan leaves, and I finish up the washing, still uncertain. I go up to my room, devoting myself to computer work, trying to prepare. With the gallery show coming up in only two days, I can't be distracted.

  “Say what?”

  Melissa is giving me another hopeful smile, while outside Jackson, Katrina and Andrea are all doing their morning exercise together while BA is trying to crawl on the floor next to both of us. I didn't even know babies could crawl that quickly, I thought they didn't start for another couple of months.

  “I would like to go to the gallery show tonight.”

  I play with BA's little stuffed animal, a unicorn with a rainbow-colored tail, and BA tries to reach for it, squirming to make progress toward the toy. “'Lissa, I know I asked if you wanted to go a couple of weeks ago, but that was before Andrea and company arrived. Are you sure it's safe?”

  We haven't talked about it, but for me, it's always been the elephant in the room. I've enjoyed having my family at the farm, and I know that the danger they're in is not their fault. After all, Peter DeLaCoeur is a sociopathic rotten bastard. If I can lay any fault at all, it's that Jackson didn't break his father's neck when he had the chance. But that would have made Jackson just as bad as Peter, which I can't blame him for.

  Still, knowing that the most dangerous man on the Gulf Coast is using his resources to hunt three of the people in my house isn't exactly the sort of shit that I want to put up with, because it puts Melissa at risk. Nathan's not the only one who's been keeping tabs on things back in New Orleans. I know Katrina's been keeping up with her friend—I still don't know who, but they're connected to the cops somehow—and I've been keeping my eyes out in the French Quarter.

  The chatter I've picked up quite frankly scares the hell out of me. I've never been one to get frightened. I can't afford the luxury of allowing myself to feel fear when I have to provide all of Melissa's emotional stability. But this still worries me. The hardest part is, not only am I worried for 'Lissa, but for the rest of my new family as well. The idea of Andrea being harmed... I shiver.

  Melissa understands though, and reaches across the counter, taking my hand. “I'll be perfectly safe, Carson. When I spoke with Katrina and Nathan about it, they agreed that it'll help things around the house.”

  “You spoke with them already,” I reply, not too happy about that for some reason. “And what did they say?”

  “They said what all of us are thinking, that the stress and tension of staying cooped up on the farm most of the time is driving all of us nuts,” Melissa says, giving me a hopeful smile. “Come on, even Jackson and Katrina are needing some time to chill out apart from each other, and I'm really feeling up for it.”

  I sigh, looking down. Last night Andrea and Melissa slept together again, and I have to admit that I felt a little jealous looking in this morning and seeing the two of them just holding each other, Melissa with a content, peaceful smile on her sleeping face. “I... 'Lissa, I'm sorry. I don't want you hurt, that's all. And you know what Nathan said, Peter's on the lookout for any of the DeLaCoeur siblings. I just... what happens if Peter's men crash the party?”

  “They won't,” Melissa reassures me. “Come on Carson, he's never acknowledged me. Nathan's told me that he's going to push Peter in another direction, and Katrina and Andrea both said they'd work the crowd, making sure that we're as safe as possible.”

  “Great,” I grumble. “Two badasses and Andrea. Can't Andrea just hire some bodyguards or something?”

  Melissa shakes her head, giving me a little half-smile. “She's not rich anymore. Not that it's stopping them, but Andrea told me the other night.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, suddenly more concerned than I should be. Why should I care how much money Andrea has?

  Melissa chuckles and smiles, happy that for once, she's got information before I do. “When Andrea left the DeLaCoeur house, she fled with fifty grand in cash and a bag of gemstones. She was slowly liquidating the gems as she needed, but a bag of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies is not exactly something that you carry around with you on a daily basis. And Peter's men found her apartment. You know they took the bag and probably any cash she had laying around before they lit the place up.”

  The implications hit me hard, and I swallow. “So how much does she have?”

  “She doesn't know,” Melissa says softly. “Honestly, I don't think she cares. The only reason the subject came up was because she felt bad having to borrow five dollars from Nathan the other day to pay for her at the drive-through. I don't think she'd have said anything at all except that Nathan offered to stop as we drove back here.”

  “I see. So you're hoping that by getting out, we can all just de-stress some,” I reply, giving her a smile. “You know 'Lissa, that's the amazing thing about you.”

  “What's that?” she asks, smiling.

  “You're as focused on other people as you are on yourself. More, perhaps.”

  Melissa smiles her happy smile again, and I remember why I'm so devoted to my sister. I'd tear apart the entire world just to have her feel this level of happiness. “Thank you, but I'm doing this for me too, you know. So... we can all go?”

  I sigh, nodding. “I'll have to be there early to help out with the final setup, but yes, I'd love it if you were there tonight. Remember, the event kicks off at seven. Maybe you can get there around seven thirty or so?”

  Melissa nods, and comes around the counter, hugging me. “This is going to be fun, Carson. I promise you.”

  Chapter 9

  Andrea

  Red. Okay, I can do red, and I have to admit it's a very sexy cocktail dress. And in my current situation, I can't exactly complain about anything.

  “I thought you got rid of this thing,” I tell Katrina as she spreads it out on my bed. It's slinky, sexy, and the idea of wearing it sends a thrill up my spine that I can't deny. I can just imagine myself in this dress, and it's delicious. “It would have been too dangerous to keep, wouldn't it?” This dress is practically legendary at this point. Back when Katrina kicked off her plan to get revenge on Peter DeLaCoeur, she started by publicly humiliating Jackson... and she wore this dress, knowing she'd be guaranteed an invitation into Jackson's limo that night.

  “Yes, but something kept stopping me,” Katrina says, looking down at the dress. “I'm glad I did. It's nice to know it's more than just a display piece now.”

  “Oh come on, you'd still rock this like fire,” I tease her, looking over. “Fact is, oneechan, you're definitely in the hot mama category. Seriously, what's the difference for you, pre- and post-baby size?”

  “I’ve definitely put some weight on. I’m not sure how much,” Katrina admits, not even bothering to say anything about my nickname for her. “Jackson doesn't seem to mind, though.”

  “Why should he?” I joke, looking over. “What man wouldn't love being married to a hot hacker who's one hundred percent devoted to him?”

  “Hmm, he does seem to like that,” Katrina admits, smiling.

  “Anyway, are you sure I can wear it?” I ask. “I mean, you're what, six inches taller than me?”

  “And I bought it to look like a borderline street slut,” she reminds me. She picks it up and holds it against my body, nodding. “It actually looks classy on you, we won't be able to see your panties in it. Come on, let's try it on.”

  Melissa looks nervous as we get out of her car, but Nathan's a total pro in his dark suit, Katrina almost a copy of him, rocking a power suit that makes me jealous. Seriousl
y, I've never looked that good in lightweight worsted wool, although I think the RayBans are a bit much. “You sure you need those?”

  “I'm carrying a gun under this jacket,” Katrina says with a smirk, giving me a glance as she opens the back door for Melissa. She steps out, wearing her own dress although she looks decidedly more elegant than sexy, which is how I feel. Katrina's red dress hangs perfectly on me, the hastily purchased push-up bra and panties giving me just that extra little bit of support. I can feel men's eyes glancing at me while I stand in my also just purchased five inch heels, another gift from Katrina. “The sunglasses help with the image, and with staying anonymous, too.”

  “And me?” I ask. “I'm not wearing anything to disguise myself.”

  Katrina gives me a once-over, shaking her head and grinning. “Sweetie, I gave you that dress, and I barely recognize you. Trust me, you're turning heads right now. I gotta go work security. Enjoy.”

  Our plan is simple. Nathan, after parking the car, is going to work the edges of the party with Katrina, the two of them acting as site security while I stay next to Melissa, who's going to enjoy being an artist for the night. Jackson's back at the farm with BA, enjoying a daddy-daughter night of playing and cartoons, while Carson's already here, working.

  Katrina heads toward the edge of the gallery, which is huge. MCS French Quarter is big, not quite a converted warehouse, but certainly bigger than what you'd expect. Over five thousand square feet of paintings and sculptures are on display, with Melissa's being the central focus. There are four metal sculptures that dominate the center of the floor, and I have to do a double take when I see the tasteful, small display cards with prices near each display. “You can command a quarter million per piece?”

  Melissa nods, her eyes are filled with wonder at the appreciation she sees from the crowd. “That's what Carson says, but I don't really worry about the money. I usually sell three sculptures or so a year, and about a dozen paintings. Then there's the commission work. But I like these more, because taking commissions means I have to follow someone else's ideas. These pieces, they come from inside me.”

  I whistle, taking her hand. Like all of the pieces I've seen at the farm, there's a sense of growth, of life exceeding the limitations of the real world and becoming brighter, better than it was before. You want to live in this world she's created through these pieces. “You're an amazing woman, Melissa. Thank you for letting me into your life.”

  We're interrupted when Carson's voice comes over a set of hidden speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attendance at tonight's event. We have a very lucky bonus for you, as I've just been informed that MCS's featured artist of the evening, Melissa Sands, has joined us this evening. If you have the opportunity, we encourage you to say hello to Melissa, and we hope that she can share some of her unique insight to her creative processes. Thank you.”

  There's a noticeable buzz in the crowd as Carson's announcement finishes, and I give Melissa a little glance. “Do you have unique insight?”

  Melissa smiles and nods. “Yes. I just got done seeing a show on dolphins when I made that one, and that one reminded me of Carson working outside, so I wanted to make one about him.”

  I look at the piece she's talking about, and I can see what she means. The figure, slim but not skinny, is still somehow heroic as he goes about his work, which you can't really see. He has a sense of quiet accomplishment, and in the eyes, I can see Carson for sure. “Looks more peaceful than Carson,” I remark.

  “He doesn't have to worry about taking care of me,” Melissa says, still smiling. “I'm glad you can see the resemblance though. I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  Before I can reply I see Carson approaching us. He looks devastating in a dark tan blazer and gray slacks I haven't seen before, and appears cultured and controlled as he speaks with a customer. But when he sees me for the first time, he trails off, his eyes going wide. “Excuse me a moment,” he says to his customer, coming over. “What are you wearing?”

  I look down at my dress, then up at him. “What? I see three other women wearing cocktail dresses, and it's perfectly appropriate for this event.”

  “Doesn't she look beautiful?” Melissa asks, and Carson looks at his sister, for the first time I think, with at least a little bit of frustration.

  “She does,” Carson finally admits, turning away. “Excuse me.”

  He storms off, leaving a confused Melissa behind, and a very pissed-off me. “What's wrong?” she asks, concerned she's the source of Carson's attitude. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing you did, 'Lissa,” I reassure her. “I'll talk with him later.”

  Someone comes up, a nice woman who recognizes Melissa from her picture near the entrance, and I keep watch as Melissa talks about art with her. The event continues, a waiter bringing around drinks, and I snatch one, downing half before I realize the orange juice is actually a mimosa. The next waiter that comes around, I take by the elbow and pull aside for a moment. “You guys have anything non-alcoholic?”

  “I can bring you some regular orange juice, if you like, miss,” the waiter says, openly checking me out. Okay, at least some men appreciate what I'm wearing. He gives me a smile, and I return it just a little bit. Flirting can be fun, after all. “I don't think you'll be easy to forget.”

  “You never know, I could disappear in a puff of smoke. But thanks.”

  The waiter moves off, and I back off a little, watching Melissa talk with the patrons. She's relaxing more and more, and while she gives me little glances to reassure herself, she's in her element talking about her art. I decide to give her a little more space and look around, seeing Nathan and Katrina positioned near the doors, their eyes scanning the crowd constantly. I go back over to Melissa, who's talking with another woman about her painting style. “'Lissa, I'm going to go check in with Mercy,” I tell her, using Katrina's public name. “You okay?”

  “I'm fine for now, thanks,” Melissa says sincerely. “I'm having a lot of fun.”

  “Good. See you in a bit.” I head off toward Katrina, but before I get halfway there, Carson emerges from the crowd and takes my elbow. “Nice to see you again, too.”

  “We need to talk,” he hisses, steering me toward the back of the gallery. He opens a door and we're alone in what is obviously the business office area of MCS. He half-guides, half-shoves me in the door and closes it behind him, his eyes blazing. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What?” I ask, rubbing my arm. It doesn't hurt, in fact it was hot to feel his strength, but it's even hotter seeing the fire in his eyes. “You got a problem?”

  “Yeah, I got a problem,” he replies, his cultured voice trembling on the edge of control. “I tell you that I'm attracted to you just a few days ago, but that we can't do anything. Fine. Melissa tells me she wants to come here, and that you're coming with her. Fine, I can see that. But then you show up looking like you do...”

  “What's wrong with the dress, huh? You pointed it out before, so you might as well just spit it out, you're giving yourself a coronary otherwise,” I shoot back, stepping closer. “What's got a stick up your ass?”

  “That dress... for fuck's sake, Andrea! You know how sexy you look in it! I know it, I can see it in your face. You wore it for a reason!” Carson fumes, taking a step toward me. We're just a foot apart, his eyes shining with frustration and anger... but most of all, desire. “Then, when you flirted with that waiter...”

  “I'd have flirted with you if you weren't being insufferable,” I growl, and Carson grabs my arms, his grip like iron on my upper arms. He pulls me to him, his lips finding mine, and they're hot, burning, and better than any other kiss I've had in my life.

  I push him away, my heart thudding in my chest, staring at him, but before he can say anything I grab his jacket and kiss him again, our lips and tongues battling for supremacy. It's hot, and I feel that underneath the cultured exterior, behind the control of the sniper I saw in the back field, there's a passionate,
strong man who wants me. My fingers dig into his shoulders as he pushes me against the wall, his mouth sucking hard at my neck and his hands kneading my ass through my dress. I'm liquid, molten heat filling my body thinking about the hard cock I feel pressed against my thigh, he wasn't lying about being a solid eight or more. I reach down to cup his cock, but before I can, a knock comes at the door, and we step apart, our eyes blazing.

  “So you do like me,” I say smugly.

  “No fucking shit,” he hisses before turning to the door. “What the fuck do you want?”

  A waitress opens the door and sticks her head in, obviously freaked out at seeing the gallery owner and a guest so heated and disheveled. I'm sure she knows exactly what we were up to before she knocked, but to her credit she recovers quickly, asking him a question in a brisk, professional manner. “Mr. Sands, we need more drinks out there. Is there any champagne left?”

  “Check in the storage room, ask Robert to help you,” he growls, pointing. The door closes, and he struggles as he tugs at the hem of his blazer. “We'll talk about this later.”

  “I'm done talking,” I reply, fixing my dress. I want to do much more, I want to pull it off my shoulders and give him everything I have, but I can't. Not yet. “I want you, you want me. We got that. Everyone in the fucking house knows it, I think even Melissa maybe suspects it. The only talking that needs to happen is that we need to make sure 'Lissa's cool with it. Other than that, I'm not going to dance around the issue anymore. So the question you need to ask yourself is, are you ready to stop this bullshit dance?”

  Carson considers me for a moment, and adjusts his pants. “Give me a minute to get myself under control. It'd be better if you left first.”