by K. R. Rowe
******
Chapter 8-Deceit
News travels fast. Sebastian’s eyes flew open when his father grabbed him by the hair, jerked him out of the bed, and dumped him on the floor.
"You self-centered, snot-nosed, spoiled, little punk!" his father screamed. He hauled Sebastian up, with a fist in his shirt, and held him against the wall.
"If you screw this up for me, you’ll be disinherited! If—you live." His father stank of whisky and dip, and he snarled a hair’s width from his face. "I've had enough of your laziness and partying! You take care of this and don't come home until you do!"
The boom of his voice shook the house and set the dogs to barking outside. Sebastian's father had just spoken with Atticus Astor. He was not pleased with the treatment of his daughter the night before and had demanded an explanation.
Five years earlier, the Mountain City Club bustled with the old guard—the most influential members of the social and financial community. Many Chattanoogans considered the old gentleman’s club outdated, but the members knew that the club was among two or three of the top places where many substantial business deals were sealed.
His father, Bill Whiting, was a prolific schemer. He lounged in a quiet corner of the club with Atticus and his business attorney. They had almost finalized the dowry agreement.
"Just to recap the agreement," the attorney said, "when Grace turns nineteen and marries Sebastian, Astor Construction will merge with Whiting Realty and you will both hold fifty percent ownership of each company.
"That is correct," Bill said.
"One thing I would like to be certain of before I sign off," Atticus said. "I need to be sure that your company is financially stable."
"I understand your concern," Bill replied. "I’ll submit my accounting records to your attorney tomorrow for review."
Sebastian was not stupid. He knew he needed to get his act together. In the years since the dowry agreement, Whiting Realty had fallen into financial trouble. His father was getting desperate. Sebastian hoped the attorney would not notice that his father had manipulated the annual accounting records to reflect a profit, when in reality, the company was near ruin.
It was Sebastian’s future on the line and possibly his life, if his father was serious. He knew to have his lies ready before he was yanked from his bed. He checked the mirror before he left. His scalp was still sore and he thought he might have a bald spot. He combed his hair, straightened his shirt, and took one last look. He had some explaining to do.
He just could not resist the blonde at the dance the night before. He had taken her out of the back door to be sure no one saw them together, and had completely forgotten about Grace. He slowly rolled a flower shaped earring between his fingers before he placed it in a small box with four others. His twisted smile spread across his face while he relived the thrill of the prior evening.
"Come with me," he said. "Let's take a walk by the river." Like always, his words dripped with charm. He was very persuasive, and she smiled and giggled, not knowing the deadly consequences of her actions.
"I have a secret." He put his lips to her neck and his hands to her throat. "With one touch," he whispered close to her ear. "I promise—I can make your world disappear."
"Show me," she murmured, misreading his ominous meaning. "I want to know more about this secret."
She soon found that his secret was dark … and he always kept his promises.
It was midday when he eased in front of the Astor house unannounced. He relaxed in his car for a minute to gather his thoughts. The front door of the house cracked open and Atticus stood, with his arms crossed, waiting. Sebastian stepped from his car and strolled toward the door.
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, Sebastian," Atticus said. "I assume you’ve come to offer an explanation for your behavior last night."
"Yes, sir, and I sincerely apologize," he said. "I was very sick all night and was in the men's room most of the evening. When I left Grace outside, I had to go back in. I was so sick that I passed out," he said. "When I woke up, I was locked in. Everyone was gone and I had to crawl out a window in the back. By that time, she was already gone."
"So why didn't you call?"
Sebastian was unprepared for that question but he easily lied. "This is embarrassing, sir." He cleared his throat and attempted to gain the man’s sympathy. "My phone, well, it fell in the, um, toilet. I had to stop and buy a new one this morning."
"I see," Atticus said with doubt in his tone. "I suppose that's a reasonable enough of an explanation. Now go see if my daughter buys it," he said. "She’s in the garden."
"Good morning, Mrs. Astor," Sebastian said pleasantly when he saw Anne come to the door.
She didn't return his greetings but instead, she glared at him as if she wanted to plant a knife in his chest.
What nerve! Grace thought. She was surprised that Sebastian had the guts to show his face at her house. She wasn’t interested in seeing him, and her mind kept wandering to the guard from the night before. She closed her eyes and wondered where he was—what he was doing. Her smile faded when she thought of Sebastian.
"Grace."
Her eyes snapped open. "What do you want?" She turned and put her back to him.
He slid into the seat next to her. "Grace darling."
She felt nauseous.
"Please look at me."
She turned his way and half listened while he recounted his tale of the night before. His apology sounded sincere, but she was far from convinced.
"You're always so rude to me and this is only one excuse," she said. "Where’s your excuse for every other time? If you're so sorry, then prove it! Actions speak louder than words, Sebastian."
He looked surprised by her sudden fit of anger. "Will you join me tomorrow evening for dinner at Downing’s? Six o'clock?" he asked.
His perfect white smile was charming, and his light blonde hair glowed bright when it caught the sunlight. It lent him a look of pure innocence that begged for a second chance. Grace took her time answering. Downing’s was a popular Italian restaurant and the owner was a friend.
She frowned and sighed in resignation, "I guess."
The following evening, standing watch, the two guards stood making idle conversation while waiting for Sebastian to show up.
"Are you going this time?" Adam asked. "I can’t stand that guy."
"I’m thinkin’ we’re off the hook on this one."
"You’re joking!" Adam said. "Mr. Astor is going to trust him after that fiasco the other night?"
"I reckon he has to eventually," Louis said looking around. "Where's Phillips?"
"'He came in this morning and asked for a month's leave of absence."
"A month? Is everything ok?"
"I think so," Adam said. "He just said he was headed home to the mountains. He misses his mom."
Neither man noticed that Grace sat nearby.
Aww, how sweet, she thought and then realized Phillips must be his last name.
"Grace, darling," a voice startled her out of her thoughts. Sebastian, she groaned to herself. She had totally forgotten about him.
Downing’s restaurant rose high atop the bluff in the art district. The Tennessee River flowed sluggish and lazy beneath the restaurant on one side, and Chattanooga lay sprawling like a blanket of twinkling white lights on the other. It was a romantic setting and the cuisine was top-notch. The inside of the restaurant was rustic in style with a dark, narrow, wooden staircase that led to the second floor. Italian landscape paintings that glowed with color, complemented the walnut planked walls of the dining room. Old, refurbished ceiling fans connected to a motor with long black belts, hummed slowly across the timbers above them and created an ambience of days gone by. The hostess seated them next to the window, overlooking the river.
"Well hello Grace!" Matt said with a warm smile. "Sebastian."
"How are you Matt?" Grace asked. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in a while."
<
br /> Sebastian drew in a long, irritated breath. If he had known he would have to deal with a load of senseless chattering, he would have chosen another restaurant.
"Oh, just working—a lot," Matt said. "This place really keeps me busy. Umm … how's Lydia?"
He fidgeted with his apron and Grace smiled. "She’s doing great. Do you want me to tell her you asked about her?" She winked, and he turned red.
"Sure, please do." He leaned down and added quietly, "And put in a good word for me."
"Oh, you know I definitely will."
Your waiter will be with you in just a minute," he said. "I hope you enjoy your dinner." Matt walked away and continued around the room chatting with his customers.
She leaned over the table and whispered, "He has a huge crush on Lydia and I'm trying to set them up."
Sebastian, already annoyed and bored, winced. He did not care to hear about it. This was going to be a long, tiring evening, he thought, as he eyed a girl across the room.
"Grace!" Two young men her age from school stopped at the table.
"How’s the future grandmother of my grandchildren?" Joel asked with a mischievous grin.
Sebastian scowled.
"You’re so funny!" Grace said and laughed. "Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since graduation."
Sebastian wanted the boy gone, and shot him a dark malevolent glare when Joel glanced his way.
Joel looked up and frowned. "Good seeing you, Grace, I’ll talk to you later." He turned and walked away without explanation.
Sebastian watched him cross the room and stop, to carry on a hushed conversation with Matt in the corner.
"That was odd," she said.
Sebastian slowly swept the room with his eyes and noticed a handful of young men gawking at Grace. He followed their gaze, and suddenly, he no longer saw an annoying little girl, but an exquisite, gorgeous young woman sitting across from him. Grace had grown up under his nose. How could he have missed this? Within seconds, everything he ever thought about her changed.
"Maybe we can take a walk by the river after dinner," he said. The smile of a lecher contorted his face and his thoughts turned vile and perverse.
"The river would be beautiful," she said. "So far, the evening has turned out to be really nice."
His strained politeness shifted to a deep, dark interest. An overpowering hunger swept over him. Sebastian felt Matt's eyes on him from across the room. He was desperate to feel normal, like a human, but found it impossible, when he felt like a starving lion stalking its prey. His mouth watered, his breathing grew shallow, and his focus narrowed, as he sat nearly frozen.
"The food here is delicious," she said, as she dug into her spaghetti.
"Yes, you are," he replied, licking his lips, while his own food went uneaten.
He reached across the table, took her hand in his, and lifted it to his lips. He bit her fingertip lightly, and ran his tongue slowly between her fingers, and across her palm while never taking his eyes from her.
"Eww … Sebastian!" She jerked her hand away and wiped it on a napkin.
His laugh was low and intimate. "Mmm … untouched, my favorite," he said. "So tell me Grace, have you ever been kissed, touched, made to feel like a woman?" He was certain of her innocence and his excitement intensified.
"Sebastian." She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. "What’s gotten into you? If you’re trying to make up for Saturday night, then stop, you’re over-doing it. Plus," she said and looked around, "you’re embarrassing me."
He watched the blush creep up her neck, and a lustful grin stretched over his lips. "I’m sorry darling," he said. "I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I was only teasing. I promise … I’ll make it up to you after dinner." He winked. The wait for their wedding night would be far too long.
"Check please!" Sebastian called to the waiter.
The river walk stretched eight miles from downtown Chattanooga to the Chickamauga Dam. Most sections of the concrete walkway were well lit and manicured, but at night, some tracts could be dark and dangerous. There were many access points to the walkway and Sebastian knew exactly where he wanted to go. He smiled with anticipation as he eased his car into the empty, moonlit parking lot.
"Wow, its dark out here," Grace said. "But look at the stars!"
He reached across the seat, but only grabbed air when she suddenly hopped out. She stood, gazing up at the sky, as he stepped out of the car, strolled around, and took her hand.
"Come," he said. "Let’s take a walk by the river."
He pulled her along beside him toward a walkway that wound along the river. It twisted, like a concrete viper, and then disappeared into a dark void in front of them. Sebastian scowled, and turned to look back, when a black sport bike pulled into the parking lot across from the car. The rider parked, pulled off his helmet, and drew the hood of his blue jacket up, and over his head. The night air had suddenly begun to cool and Sebastian saw her shiver from a slight breeze that flowed in from the river.
"Are you cold?" he asked and put his arm around her as they walked. It was not long before he found his favorite spot, and stopped. The air around them was onyx black and only the dim light from a distant barge skipped across the water. He could hardly see her but her scent was intoxicating.
He hovered over her shoulder, like a dark entity, as she leaned against the handrail that separated the walkway from the churning river below. He glanced back, with a sardonic grin, and took note of the pitch-black grove of low hanging mimosa trees behind them. A dense mist seeped from the surface of the warm murky river and crawled across the ground to settle in like a dark concealing cloak beneath the shadows of the trees. Perfect, Sebastian thought.
"Look." She pointed out over the river. "You can barely see them, but there’s a nest of blue herons."
"Grace,’ he murmured.
When she turned around, he backed her against the railing. His palms itched as he leaned close, touched his fingers to her throat, and his lips to her neck. He inhaled deep and shuddered.
"Mmm…you smell delectable," he said. "But how do you taste?"
"Sebastian," she said, "what are you doing?"
He felt her tense when he pulled her close, and ground his hips against hers. "Relax," he said. "We’re to be married soon. You and I must get to know one another." His laugh was low and sensual, and in a near grope, he slid one hand slowly down her side and across her hip.
"Sebastian—"
"You’re a grown woman now, darling," he murmured close to her ear. "And you’re mine to do as I please." He tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of her head, and slid his tongue from the hollow of her throat to her earlobe. He took her earring in his mouth, and gently tugged, before putting his teeth to her neck.
"Ouch! You bit me!"
"I’m sorry darling," he said. He pulled away and ran his tongue across his lips. "I didn’t mean to hurt you." He leaned over her again, put his mouth to the red mark, and sucked voraciously.
A man’s cough from nearby caught his attention.
"Good God," Sebastian said under his breath. He raised his head and peered over to find the hooded biker several yards away. "Excuse me, sir!" Sebastian said in an irritated tone. "Can’t you see that we would like to be alone?"
The man looked their way. "The US is a free country is it not?" he said. "I like it fine ... just where I am, my friend."
Annoyed, but not in the mood for a fight, Sebastian took Grace by the hand, "Come, let’s go elsewhere."
They only took a few steps when Grace’s phone buzzed.
"Hello?" she said. "We’re on the river walk, yes, near the old college," she said and paused. "Ok, we will, I’ll tell him. I love you too, bye."
"That was Dad," she said. "He wants us to head home. He said a cold front is moving in and we are about to get some really bad storms, maybe some tornados."
Sebastian groaned in frustration, took her hand, and they made their way back to the car. On their way, they passed t
he biker as he peered out over the river and smoked a cigar.
"A storm is on its way," Grace said to him as they passed.
"Grace, darling," Sebastian said as he pulled her along beside him. "Don’t talk to strangers."
"But he’ll get wet!"
The man turned and smiled when he heard their exchange. He looked up at the sky, waited a minute, and then followed.
******
Chapter 9 The Match
Grace had an addiction. Caffeine called her name and a quaint little coffee shop was only two steps away from Downing's. Massive oak trees, a hundred years strong, with their gnarled tangle of roots, pushed up, crumbled, and shredded the surrendering old concrete, like rice paper under the foot of an ogre, as they shaded, and dwarfed the European style buildings.
Resting near the bluff and entwined with ivy, a black lace ribbon of wrought iron fencing wrapped itself around the edges of an outside sitting area. Matching tables, with their intricate black swirling legs and their colorful mosaic tile tops were scattered like tossed dice around a gray stone patio. Draped low overhead, a wisteria-laden trellis, showered the patrons with a light purple snow and scented the air with fresh linen and honey.
In the mood for a tasty cup of Irish coffee, she snuck away from the house again unnoticed to meet Lydia. Her mother was out of town for the weekend and was accompanied by one of the guards. Only two guards remained, and these two were easy to elude.
"Your dad's gonna be pissed when he finds out you’ve snuck off again," Lydia said and grinned. "I must be a bad influence."
"He’ll get over it," Grace said. "Do you want a piece of my brownie?"
"No thanks, this scone is plenty," Lydia said. "You aren’t worried about that contractor?"
"Which one?" Grace asked.
"The one who said he was gonna cut off your dad’s balls and feed them to his dog." she said and laughed.
