Wickedly Good (Hex Appeal)

by Anya Breton

  “Drew,” the elder sibling repeated with emphasis. “You’re making a scene.”

  “You made the scene, brother. I’m merely reacting to it.”

  That might have been the most intelligent thing Drew Haizea had said since Gemma returned from England. His words brought everything into sharp focus. She had absolutely no doubt Aston had known exactly who was in the bed-and-breakfast he’d picked. She now understood why he insisted upon her staying until morning.

  Aston Haizea had, in fact, orchestrated the scene.

  But Gemma didn’t have to be his instrument.

  Aston hadn’t expected his brother to react quiet as heatedly as he did. Especially in Elizabeth’s presence. The woman’s white-knuckle grip on her napkin proved he’d be doing damage control for the next hour.

  Again.

  He was weary of cleaning up after his brother’s messes. Drew’s lifestyle was a drain on the family. And Aston had enough of it. He would deal with him once they finished the meal. First, he needed to do a little schmoozing to ensure their hosts didn’t kick them out.

  Aston made a concentrated effort to relax his tightened jaw. Once blood flowed through his gums again, he attempted a smile for their hostess. “Breakfast is delicious. How did you get the eggs to taste wonderful while maintaining the consistency of clouds?”

  “Clouds!” The older woman laughed, waving dismissively across the table. “I didn’t make soufflé. I made scrambled eggs.”

  “But you should try her soufflé,” her husband put in.

  They exchanged a good-natured chuckle that should have put the rest of the company at ease. It only sharpened the discomfort in the room.

  “I’m sure it’s quite good,” Aston replied.

  “If you’re around for dinner, I could be persuaded to make one.”

  “I might have to take you up on that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gemma put in, in her quiet way. “I seem to have had too much juice too quickly. I’ll be right back.”

  Aston stood in a gentlemanly fashion. His instinct was to offer to go with her. But the skittish way she behaved when they got out of bed this morning kept him silent. He did, however, watch Drew’s glaring gaze track Gemma to the door.

  Elizabeth started small talk with their hostess about the details in the room as she spooned out portions of various breakfast items. And then Drew did exactly what Aston knew he would. He made an excuse to leave.

  Aston counted backward from ten, giving his brother a brief head start. He then made his own excuse. He didn’t wait for permission before he shot into the corridor. Drew’s hand had closed around the banister when Aston caught him by the collar of his polo.

  “Outside. Now.”

  “Fuck you,” Drew snarled at an impolite volume.

  “We’re not doing this inside the inn,” Aston growled. “Outside or I’ll knock you unconscious and cancel every line of credit you have before you wake up.”

  The threat worked, as it always did. Drew stomped through the corridor to the back door. Aston stalked him to the garden. He quickly threw up a bubble of Air magic to dampen the sounds of the argument they were about to have.

  Drew tramped to the middle of the garden. He pivoted on the ball of his foot. His trip back was aggressive. Drew stabbed a finger toward the building’s upper floor. “Did you decide you wanted her before or after you sent me away?”

  “Your fiancée witnessed that scene in the dining room,” Aston said rather than give his brother the satisfaction of an answer. “You will apologize to her for your outburst.”

  “Fuck off, Aston.”

  “You are nothing but a drain on this family. I will cut you off unless you start pulling your weight.”

  Drew sneered in pure defiance. “You can’t do that. Mom won’t let you.”

  Though his temperature lifted with his frustration, Aston remained outwardly serene. “If you ruin my chances to become regional priest with your womanizing ways, our mother will call the banks herself.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Drew sniffed haughtily. “She’d never do that.”

  He resisted the urge to challenge Drew to try their mother’s patience. Knowing Drew, he would. Instead, Aston said, “Apologize to our hosts. Take Elizabeth somewhere nice and make sure this wedding is still on.”

  His younger sibling took a menacing step forward. “The power has gone to your head. I hope you lose that position. Because the last thing you need is more authority.” With that said, Drew stomped into the house.

  Aston followed on his heels, ensuring his brother went to the dining room rather than up the stairs after Gemma. The blond witch disappeared into the room to the right. Aston paused in the middle of the corridor, unsure where to go. His presence in the dining room might impede Drew’s apology. But going upstairs after Gemma would end only one way—in bed.

  A heated ripple cascaded through him at the memory of her, of last night. She was everything he never knew he needed. Now that he’d had it, he didn’t want to live without it.

  And why should he? He was a priest. He could claim her as his consort.

  As soon as he secured his new position.

  Gemma wouldn’t refuse the offer of the regional high priest. She’d be insane to do so. But then…he’d thought she was a little insane for refusing his bribe.

  Aston curved his lips upon recalling Gemma’s offended expression when he suggested she take his money. She’d maintained her self-respect. Few in his coven would have done the same. That had been the beginning of his obsession with her.

  He stood on the bottom stair before he understood what he was doing. Aston didn’t change directions. Through the inn, he traversed with a single-minded purpose—having Gemma.

  He paused at their door, inhaling deeply to fight the sudden dive of his stomach. Why was he nervous? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already had her.

  Quietly, he rapped against the wood and waited. And waited.

  And waited.

  Aston knocked louder but the waiting continued.

  “Gemma?” He knocked a third time, a sense of déjà vu rising within.

  The restroom. She must still be in it.

  Cautiously, he checked the doorknob. It twisted silently. “Gemma?” he called as he stepped inside their shared room.

  His gaze swept over the room, seeking her. The bathroom door stood open and dark. Aston strode across to check what he already knew.

  It was empty. Just like the rest of the room.

  Gemma was gone.

  * * * * *

  Gemma’s knuckles ached from how hard she’d been gripping the steering wheel in anger. Her narrowed eyes scanned for deer and other wildlife along the winding state road heading east. However, their slivered state had nothing to do with the sun beating down from above.

  She was furious. With herself. With Drew. And most importantly, with Aston. If she never saw another Haizea, it would be too soon.

  How could she have fallen for the elder sibling’s sweet words? Gemma knew better. Every move Aston Haizea made was done for either political or business reasons. Yet she’d foolishly allowed herself to become another of his pawns.

  She’d foolishly allowed herself to care.

  He had to be stopped. And Gemma knew just how to accomplish it.

  * * * * *

  Aston dug his fingers into his scalp. A frustrated sound scraped through his throat, echoing in the SUV’s stifling cabin. For four-and-a-half hours, he’d looked for Gemma. Four-and-a-half hours, he’d failed to turn up more than a mote of dust that once hovered near her mother’s car.

  The Subaru had been missing from the McDonald’s parking lot when he arrived. Just as he’d known it would be. Though he’d spotted several cars of the same model and color, they hadn’t been hers. His attempts to get her by phone failed.

  Aston had driven home on the off chance she’d returned to her mother. No Subarus waited at Haizea House.

  The housekeeper had claimed she didn’t know wher
e her daughter could be found. Ellen had glared at him when he asked her to call Gemma’s mobile phone to fix that.

  On a lark, he’d driven to Gemma’s friend in Nashua—where she’d meant to go last night—only to discover the friend still hadn’t seen Gemma since their graduation.

  He was out of ideas. Aston’s only hope was to return home and ply Ellen with assurances he meant her daughter no harm. Or to wait for Gemma to come back on her own. But after what he’d done, that wasn’t going to happen.

  Aston had fucked up. If he got another chance, he vowed he wouldn’t screw it up.

  * * * * *

  “Please, Gemma, give me a call. I want to apologize properly but you’re making this impossible. I just want to talk.” Aston exhaled heavily as he rolled his forehead atop his palm. “No, that’s not true. I don’t just want to talk. I want to do a whole lot more. But since I can’t kiss you, I’ll settle for talking. Please, call me.”

  Aston jabbed the end-call button and then dropped the phone to the desktop. He set his free hand to his forehead, sighing deeper than he had while making the call.

  Two days had passed. There’d been no word of Gemma. Or at least none he’d heard. Aston doubted she would keep her mother in the dark. And the way the housekeeper had avoided him these past forty-eight hours backed up his assumption.

  A familiar double chime rang through the house. The doorbell. His heart jumped into double time.

  Would Gemma be so formal?

  After what he’d done to her, Aston wouldn’t be surprised. He shot to his feet, stumbling around the desk to reach the office door. Ellen emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She shot him a twisted look that was a combination of bewilderment and anger.

  “I’ll get it,” he told her.

  She hung back but didn’t disappear into the kitchen. Aston hurried forward, circled the knob with his palm and turned it without checking to see who stood on the other side. He immediately regretted it.

  A familiar, handsome older man stood on the porch, grinning. “Aston, you answer your own door now?”

  “Sean!” Four uncomfortable seconds passed in which Aston failed to recall common courtesy. Finally, he stepped aside. “Come on in.”

  The man’s features scrunched in a slight wince before he stepped through. He gave a light laugh once he was inside. “I once thought lightning would strike me dead if I ever crossed this threshold again.”

  “I’d have arranged something if I’d known you were coming,” a sour female voice called from the stairs to his right.

  Aston’s attention whipped toward it. His mother stood midway up, glaring at their visitor. She was dressed in one of her crisp linen pantsuits, not a hair out of place.

  “Amanda.” Sean greeted her with a small bow and a half-smile. “You’re looking lovelier than ever.”

  Never one for compliments, his mother tossed her wavy hair out of her face and then settled an unimpressed look on him. “What do you want?”

  Her reaction increased Sean’s smile. “I came to have a chat with your son but you’re more than welcome to listen in as this concerns you all.”

  His mother finished her trip to the ground floor. “Which son?”

  Sean gestured at Aston. “This one.”

  Aston lifted his eyebrow. Three days ago, Sean had rushed away at the mere hint the Haizea matriarch was nearby. Now the man was in their house, inviting her to listen to their conversation—a conversation Sean could have had with him in private earlier in the week.

  What had changed?

  “Shall we go to my office?” Aston asked of them both.

  “Sounds good,” Sean replied, still smiling far too broadly given he was in the house of the woman he’d avoided for years.

  The trio made their way to the office, where Aston settled behind the desk, Sean took a chair in front and the matriarch stood to Aston’s right.

  Sean wiggled until he was comfortable, clearly delaying the discussion. And then he lifted his head, eyes focused and lips flat. “I’ve come to demand you resign from the race for regional priest.”

  Aston’s mother choked on her next breath. “Why in Aer’s name would he do that?”

  Sean leaned comfortably into the leather as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Because I have incriminating information that would sink his career.”

  The Haizea matriarch let out a harsh laugh. “I think you’re getting my sons confused. Aston hasn’t done a single incriminating thing in his life. Drew, on the other hand…”

  Aston already feared what came next.

  Sean craned his neck, giving Amanda the full weight of his sober expression. “I have it on good authority Aston has been sleeping with your housekeeper’s twenty-two-year-old daughter.”

  His mother’s eyes rounded before she could hide the expression. “That was a harmless fling.” She sniffed indignantly, as if the thought of anything more than a fling with Gemma was impossible.

  Sean continued without hesitation. “I also have it on authority Aston tried to bribe the young woman to leave Drew alone. I’m told this was to ensure that Drew’s upcoming nuptials go off without a hitch. When she refused his money, he masqueraded as Drew to seduce her. She escaped him once she discovered what he’d done. Rather than let her be, Aston tracked her down. And then he kidnapped her. He brought her to the very same bed-and-breakfast he sent his brother and his brother’s fiancée to days earlier. There, Aston seduced her with sweet lies. The following morning, she discovered why he insisted she remain overnight when she met Drew and Elizabeth at the breakfast Aston insisted they attend.”

  Aston had never felt more wicked than when he listened to his transgressions listed for his mother. Had he really done all that?

  Sean unhurriedly drew his fingers over his chin. “I think the majority of our constituents would agree that isn’t the sort of man they want leading them.”

  Amanda’s voice went low and icy. “She’s a gold digger. There’s not an ounce of truth to any of that.”

  “Oh, Amanda.” Sean shook his head in disappointment. “I’d hoped you matured since we called it quits.”

  “We didn’t call it quits. I dumped you.”

  Sean waved dismissively in her general direction before turning his attention to Aston. “Do you deny these accusations?”

  “No.” Aston hadn’t needed to think. He knew what answer to give even if his mother didn’t. Even if she now sat tutting and making irritated noises out of her nose.

  Sean was right. Aston could never be a good leader if his primary concern was for the family’s reputation rather than the coven’s welfare. And any man who would do to Gemma what he’d done wasn’t fit to lead himself, let alone dozens of covens.

  “Then you’ll resign.”

  Sean’s statement hadn’t been a question but Aston’s mother treated it as one. “He’s not resigning. Aston will be regional high priest and no silly rumors are going to change that. You can’t—”

  “I’ll resign,” Aston interrupted before she could get to the threat portion of her act.

  The moment the words left his lips, it was as if the gales that pounded his shoulders for the past twenty years ceased. He felt lighter and more in control despite having lost a portion of it to his rival. It took losing the position to realize he hadn’t wanted it in the first place.

  His mother slammed a fist against the desk. Red crept into her cheeks. Angry white lines outlined her features as she glared at him. “No! You will be regional high priest!”

  “I don’t want to be regional high priest. In fact, I’m not sure I want to be the priest over the Manchester coven.” Aston stated the argument in his calmest voice—a true calm rather than the feigned serenity he perfected during years of doing a job he’d not wanted. He got to his feet, determination filling in the spaces between his bones. “Where is Gemma?”

  “Aston,” his mother exclaimed.

  Sean’s lifted eyebrows lowered slightly. “I’m sorry but she
doesn’t want to see you.”

  Aston stuffed his wallet and keys in his pockets and then started around the desk. “I messed up. I hurt her. I just want the chance to apologize.”

  “Aston, our family is more important than—”

  He whirled on his heel to jab a finger across the desktop. “No more, Mother. I’m finished sacrificing everything for your dream. It’s time I live my own life for a change. But never fear, you have another son you can groom for the position you so covet but were unable to snare yourself.”

  Though his mother’s jaw dropped open and something akin to pain filled her eyes, Aston couldn’t recall ever feeling more enlightened. Finally, he knew what he wanted. Finally, he could see happiness in his future rather than endless duties.

  First, he needed to find Gemma.

  Aston turned to their guest. Filling his expression and his voice with every bit of his remorse, Aston quietly begged for a chance to redeem himself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The ocean was calm, almost mockingly so. No matter how serenely the waves eased against the sailboat’s hull, Gemma’s insides roiled. Miles off the Atlantic coast should be a safe place for an Air witch to hide. But Gemma feared it wouldn’t be far enough.

  She should have bought a ticket back to England.

  There was still time. Gemma could ask Sean to sail her to Boston when he returned from his errand.

  An ocean wouldn’t dull the memories and feelings she still carried. If he appeared now, she wasn’t sure she could fight him.

  How had Aston managed to turn everything upside down in less than a week?

  Back when she thought he was a good man, she’d secretly wanted to believe everything he said—to believe he might actually want her. In his own way, Aston turned out as rotten as Drew. Only Aston had much farther to fall. She’d had him on a pedestal—the man who had organizing unruly people with limited backlash down to a science. He could do no wrong in her eyes.

  Until he did.

  Gemma exhaled a grumpy sigh as she rolled onto her stomach beneath the warm rays. Though relaxing, hiding on Sean Anil’s sailboat wasn’t a permanent solution. She needed to figure out what to do with herself.