by Anya Breton
Gemma should have told him no. He’d deceived her. That was worth a punishment, not a fuck up against the car.
But it had been good. Too good. Better than last night.
Though not better than their first night—when she’d thought he was Drew.
Gemma stared at the flickering landscape passing by the window of the elder Haizea’s car. She couldn’t look at him. He was the same Aston Haizea he’d always been, she knew that in a distant sort of way, but what had happened was something she never imagined he’d do. Even with a nameless female.
A hard truth developed in her mind. Aston had been waiting for her that night in Drew’s bedroom not because he wanted her but because he was protecting his family’s future. The lengths he’d go on that front knew no bounds.
Understanding his motivations didn’t help. It only made her angrier. Aston had once again manipulated his brother’s life. But this time he’d manipulated hers too.
He couldn’t get away with it. The man had a hard lesson coming. Gemma only hoped she was strong enough to teach it to him.
The first time Aston had set eyes on Wentworth by the Sea he imagined sharing it with a woman. Only seven miles from the parking garage, the posh, Victorian resort was the first place he thought of for dinner. In deference to Gemma’s rumpled state, Aston left her in the car so he could make arrangements.
Ten minutes later he returned to find her staring out the windshield at the ocean between the trees. He opened the door, gesturing for her to get out. Gemma was careful not to brush him as they moved inside.
“I got a room.”
Gemma visibly stiffened.
“So you can clean up,” he explained. He’d already done a quick pass over himself when he made sure the accommodations were acceptable. Aston offered her the key card. “The number is printed on the envelope. The concierge will drop by a change of clothing. I’ll be waiting in Latitudes when you finish.”
Gemma relaxed. He clenched his teeth. Didn’t she remember how slick she’d been for him less than an hour ago? He hadn’t forced her. She’d never once protested. In fact, she’d been the one to begin intercourse.
She murmured something, perhaps words of gratitude, starting down the corridor away from him. Aston watched her curvy backside until she disappeared around the corner. Briefly, he considered following to avail himself of her body and the newly rented room. The reminder of her obvious unease sent him toward the dockside restaurant instead.
He needed a drink to relax.
Aston chose a table on the porch beneath the sun rather than hiding away indoors. He ordered a whisky on the rocks, a cup of clam chowder and extra crackers to hold him until his guest finished cleaning up. The concierge had claimed she’d send clothing within a half hour. Thirty minutes wasn’t overly long. And Aston had his smartphone to occupy himself.
The sloshing of the water against the supports should have been soothing while he sipped his chowder and downed his whisky. Instead, it was a relentless reminder of each second he sat alone.
Seagulls called overhead. The putter of an outboard motor proved Wentworth wasn’t a sleepy resort. But the sounds didn’t entice him like they usually did. They only made Aston imagine Gemma in dozens of seaside locations, generally with him rutting inside her.
This had to stop.
She’d been right. His personal life would be scrutinized when the race for regional priest truly began. A relationship with the housekeeper’s daughter would be frowned upon.
“Aston? Is that you?” A familiar male voice sent Aston’s heart into a spiral.
Battling down the startled thump, he slowly faced one of his fiercest competitors. Handsome, older and infinitely better at controlling unruly parties, Sean Anil had made no secret that he intended to become the state’s next regional high priest.
A gently lined mouth spread to give Aston a warm smile that wasn’t at all combative. The Haizea matriarch always said Sean—twenty years Aston’s senior—had aged well. Gazing up at the man with salt-and-pepper hair containing distinguished streaks of white, he had to begrudgingly agree.
Aston stretched out his palm. “Sean.”
They shook hands, Sean squeezing just enough to establish strength and respect before releasing. The man’s lips quirked into a small smirk as he glanced at his gold wristwatch. “You’re not at work? I thought you were chained to your desk from seven until seven every night.”
“I’ve been taking it easy this week,” Aston admitted, trying not to take the statement as an insult despite the widespread rumors of his stodgy reputation as a businessman.
Sean glanced to the blue sky. “Beautiful day to do that. What brings you to the coast?”
While Portsmouth and New Castle weren’t Sean’s district, he behaved as if they were. It was something to do with the Anil brood originally hailing from the area. However, Aston had the support of the coastal priestess.
Aston adopted an amiable expression until he recalled what had brought him to the coast. He strained to maintain the polite façade as a flash of worry flared in his gut. His biggest competition would eat him alive if the witch he’d squirreled away in a hotel room was discovered. What had he been thinking?
He recalled exactly what he’d thought. Gemma would disappear the second he returned her to the servants’ quarters. She’d avoid him at all costs. Worse, she might go after Drew now that she knew the truth. Jealousy burst within his chest when he considered that.
And so he’d rented a room, initially with the idea of giving her a place to clean up. But all along he’d intended to keep her here until she acknowledged she no longer wanted Drew.
Now he was forced to choose between his reputation and what he wanted.
“Just enjoying the weather, like you said,” he lied, with the smooth art of a practiced politician. “Yourself?”
“We’re sailing up to Freeport.” Sean nodded toward a forty-foot masterpiece of gleaming oak floating in the nearby slip. A woman stood on the bow, gazing across the small harbor.
“Great day to do it. Enjoy your trip.”
The older man chuckled good-naturedly. “I get the feeling you’re trying to be rid of me. What are you hiding?” Sean swung toward the open glass door behind them. “Is your mother here?” The cracking of the man’s voice nearly made Aston laugh.
He took advantage of the long-standing feud with a taunting, “You’d better hurry on your way before you find out.”
Sean shot a worried look toward his boat then another at the door behind him. “Good idea.” He waved, turning away. “Enjoy your meal, Aston. Don’t give your mother my regards.”
Neither his mother nor Sean had explained what had occurred between them. Aston was only glad he was able to capitalize on it to avoid a scene. He waved back, allowing an actual smile to form.
And then he ordered another whisky.
* * * * *
The ice cubes in Aston’s tumbler had melted beneath the warm June sun. The waitress had long since removed his chowder. And he’d finished the two bags of oyster crackers at least fifteen minutes ago. He was hungry for real food.
And for Gemma.
Where was she? Had the concierge taken longer than expected? He’d been more than patient but the clock was moving into the hour-and-a-half zone since he watched his guest disappear into the bowels of the hotel.
Aston pulled a bill from his wallet to cover his drinks and appetizer plus a tip for the extra crackers and good service. His waitress nodded at him, a small expression of pity on her face. He strode for the restaurant’s entrance, slipping the extra key card out of the wallet’s inner pocket.
At the appropriate numbered door, Aston opened his consciousness to the aether, calling on a small bit of energy to enhance his sense of hearing. He heard nothing inside. No slosh of bathwater, no sound of television, no quiet breathing. Aston temporarily disabled the magical power so he wouldn’t blow out his eardrums as he rapped his knuckles twice against the metal door. Then he list
ened carefully for a response with the power reengaged.
Thirty seconds, he waited prior to knocking again. Another thirty seconds passed before he used the card to verify what he’d already worked out.
The room was empty.
Two used hand towels neatly folded on the marble sink in the bathroom were the only indication anyone had been within. One of those had been his. Aston growled and then set off in search of the concierge. He found the woman assisting an older couple with ideas of where to eat breakfast.
Impatiently, he paced the lobby until she was free. Her pleasant expression annoyed him rather than soothed.
“Mr. Haizea,” she greeted him amiably.
“Did you bring the clothing to my room as I asked?”
The concierge’s friendly demeanor faded into caution once she noted his dark look. “Yes. Your guest refused it. She said you’d decided to head back early.”
“Where is she?” His barked question sent the women stumbling two steps. Aston should have cared more about the scene he was causing. He simply couldn’t bring himself to worry about anything but what had happened to Gemma.
What if she was walking back to Manchester? What if she’d gotten into a stranger’s vehicle? She could be wounded on the side of the road. He had to find her.
The concierge’s attention darted toward the double doors behind him as she stammered, “I th-thought she’d left with you.”
“Clearly not.” He did nothing to soften his growl. “When did she leave?”
“I think it was about twenty minutes ago? I’m really sorry, Mr. Haizea. I thought she was with you.”
The ineffectual apology faded in the distance as Aston stalked to the front door. He lifted his smartphone from his pocket only to growl yet again. He didn’t have Gemma’s phone number.
So he called the only other person he could think of to help.
* * * * *
Gemma’s heart stumbled when Aston’s name flashed on her mother’s phone. “Don’t answer it.”
Her mother shot a bemused look from the driver’s seat though her hovering hand dropped away from the device. “What happened?”
A shake of her head was all the answer Gemma could give for now.
“Gemma Jane Erjon, I just drove nearly an hour to New Castle to pick you up when I should have been preparing dinner. You said you’d explain when I arrived.”
The motherly tone was almost enough to make her talk. “I know. I just…” She couldn’t think of what to say. It was a fine mess she’d gotten herself into.
“You just…what?” her mother prompted in a way that usually got results.
Gemma focused on the trees passing at a rapid pace. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I can’t help you if I don’t understand the situation.”
“You’re going to be angry with me if I explain.”
“I’m going to be angry with you if you don’t.”
“Angrier,” Gemma insisted.
“So it has to do with Drew?”
“Yes.”
“Go on, Gemma. Tell me.”
After a grumpy sigh, Gemma did just that.
“I don’t know who to be angrier with,” her mother said in a low voice once Gemma completed the story. “You or Aston. Probably Aston because he’s supposed to know better.”
“He’ll do anything to make sure the family gets ahead.” It was a truth Gemma had known but she’d never thought he’d go this far.
“Hmm,” was her mother’s unhelpful response. She followed it up with a slightly better, “We’ll think of a way to fix this.”
They lapsed into silence. Gemma was uncomfortable with the idea of going home. It no longer felt like a safe place. Not when he owned it.
What could they do? Her mother worked for the Haizea family. Gemma had sneaked into Drew’s bedroom. Twice. All after she’d been offered a bribe to leave the younger son alone.
There was still one question Gemma needed answered. “Mom?”
“Hmm?”
“Remember when I was little… That time when I fell into the pond on the neighbor’s land and nearly drowned?”
“Yes.” Her mother’s voice had gone surprisingly hard—nearly a match for the one she’d used when commenting on the recent situation.
Gemma glanced over, looking for an explanation for the sudden shift back. She forged on when she found nothing of assistance. “Who brought me back to the house that day?”
The older woman’s eyes crinkled in confusion. “Aston did. Why?”
“I thought Drew carried me from the pond.”
A snorted laugh burst from her mother’s throat. “That boy couldn’t carry a ten-pound bag of flour from the car to the kitchen let alone a five-year-old girl the two miles back from the pond. No, Aston carried you. How could you forget it? He was the one who resuscitated you.”
Gemma recoiled against the seat upon hearing the truth.
Drew had lied. And he’d maintained the lie years after the fact. What other falsehoods had he told?
But Drew was a good man. He simply suffered from an overabundance of pride. Surely he hadn’t intentionally knocked her into the pond that day long ago as Aston said.
But why did Drew invite her to meet him and then leave without a word? Aston must be to blame. Yet Aston wouldn’t have known to wait for her in his brother’s bedroom if Drew hadn’t told him. Were they both playing her for the fool? Or was it only the elder son?
Either way, Gemma wasn’t comfortable remaining at Haizea House.
* * * * *
The female stirring liquid in the soup pot in Aston’s kitchen didn’t look as if she’d recently made a mad dash for the coast and back. Yet she had. Her car was missing. And so was her daughter.
Aston had already stalked through the house, checked every window in the servants’ quarters and torn through the woods to his brook. Gemma was nowhere on the property.
“Where is Gemma?”
Ellen Erjon speared him with a forbidding look. “She’s visiting a friend. Away from you.”
Clearly Gemma had brought her mother up to speed on current events. How much did his housekeeper know? Had Gemma admitted she’d been an active participant in the parking garage?
“Where?”
“South,” was all the woman was willing to share.
“Where exactly, Ellen?”
“Why?” His housekeeper set her soup spoon on the spoon rest in the middle of the range. She slowly faced him. Turbulence swirled within her light-blue gaze. “So you can continue to deceive her?”
Aston’s spine straightened at the jab he couldn’t defend against. “I was going to tell her—”
“When you’d grown tired of screwing her?” Eyes flaring stormily and pitch lowering, Ellen gave his mother a run for her money in the intimidating department. “You’ll do anything to protect your family’s reputation. But you won’t do it at my daughter’s expense. Not any longer. You make this right, Aston. Or I’ll quit. And when I do, I’ll tell everyone what this family has done in the pursuit of your precious position.”
Fear settled beneath his heart, chilling him from the inside. Everything he’d built, all that his mother had accomplished, it could all be ruined. The matriarch would fillet him if he let it come to that.
“I’ll make it right,” he assured her.
“I know you will,” Ellen replied. “Because there are worse things than losing your reputation.”
Yes, living with his mother’s disappointment was right up there among them.
* * * * *
Gemma had done several things she was ashamed of today. Chief among them had been lying to her mother about where she was going. The second horrible thing she’d done was search her mom’s mobile phone contacts while the older woman was paying for the gas to fill up the car. But Gemma needed questions answered before she’d be able to move on.
For that she had to talk to Drew.
She pulled the car into the busy parking lot of a big
-box store several miles from the Haizeas’ property. With the air-conditioning blasting away the humid temperatures, the windows sealed and the radio silenced, Gemma dialed the number she’d stolen out of her mother’s phone. It rang several times before going to voice mail. Drew’s voice drawled over the automated message system.
“It’s Gemma,” she told the phone. “Gemma Erjon, Ellen’s daughter?” she added for good measure. “I hoped we could talk. You can call me back at this number.”
Feeling foolish for not being prepared, Gemma jabbed the end-call button. She plunked her head against the seat. Rumbling in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten anything since the cruller earlier that morning. The big-box store ought to have something to assuage that problem. And it would give her something else to think about beyond the beautiful carved book sculpture that had been waiting in the servants’ quarters when she’d returned.
Aston had bought it for her. The note attached had been scrawled in his hand. He must have written it at the gallery that night.
Your eyes lit up. I knew you wanted it. It’s yours.
She’d been simultaneously thrilled and angry. While she had wanted the piece, it now felt like payment. And that made her want to harm Aston.
Minutes later, Gemma stood in the deli area, debating the merits between a southwest chicken and Caesar chicken salad when her phone rang. Drew’s name flashed on the screen. Her heart skipped a beat.
She moved out of the way of shoppers then hit the button to accept the call. “Hello?”
“Gemma? Hi. I’m glad you called.”
She couldn’t stop her goofy grin. He was glad she’d called! “No one told me you’d left,” she said with a measure of uncertainty.
“Sorry about that, it was a rushed kind of thing. Where are you?”
“I’m at a store trying to figure out what to have for dinner.”
“At a store? Not a restaurant?”
“Yes. I’m kind of…fleeing home.”
Drew’s chuckle warmed her insides. “You too? I might be able to make a suggestion. What are your options?”
