Moonlight Scandals

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “I think she’d like to see you.” Gabe turned to the doorway. “You’re more than welcome to come over now.”

  Surprise flickered through her. She expected to have a massive argument on her hands, where she’d have to beg and plead. The de Vincents were notoriously private. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I think that would be a nice surprise for her.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “You look shocked. Did you think I’d say no?”

  Rosie blinked slowly. “I’m sorry. I guess I kind of did.”

  He lifted his brows. “And why is that?”

  “Well, your brother . . .” She trailed off.

  Understanding flickered across his face. “Dev? Don’t worry about him. It’s unlikely that he’ll even be there.”

  A weird feeling whirled inside her, a mixture of relief and, oddly, disappointment. Never seeing Devlin again would be for the best, so she didn’t understand the disappointment at all.

  But who cared? Because holy moon pies, she was going to get to see Nikki and she was going to set foot in the de Vincent manor, one of the most haunted places ever.

  Chapter 8

  Even if Rosie wasn’t following Gabe, she would’ve known how to get to the de Vincent manor because of all the research she’d done. She kept that piece of knowledge to herself since it made her sound like a creepy stalker and she doubted Gabe would appreciate knowing that.

  She already kind of felt like a stalker, a cheap one, trailing behind Gabe’s fancy-ass Porsche in her Corolla. She had no idea what kind of Porsche the man drove, but she imagined it cost more than she’d ever be willing to pay for a car.

  Lance rang her just as she slowed and pulled onto the private access road. She let the call go to voice mail as she drove along the winding road crowded by tall oaks. Heavy Spanish moss clung to the trees, creating a canopy that nearly blocked out the autumn sun. It was really beautiful and eerie, and knowing that these trees and the moss had been here long before man had claimed this land had a humbling effect.

  The trees cleared and rolling green hills came into view. The road kept going for at least another mile. Eventually she came upon more trees edging along the road. Rosie felt like she was driving into another state at this point, but eventually, a large gate attached to a small building that reminded her of a checkpoint came into view.

  As she drove past the gate, she finally saw the house.

  “Holy Mary, mother of God and baby Jesuses everywhere,” she whispered, clutching the steering wheel as she tipped forward in her seat.

  There were no pictures of the de Vincent home anywhere on the internet, not even aerial views, which seemed impossible in this day and age, but it was the truth. So, this was the first time she was seeing the place.

  It looked as big as the White House!

  The center part of the structure was three stories tall and each side was flanked by smaller additions that appeared to be two stories. Every part of the compound was connected by balconies and breezeways on each level. And as she drew closer, she could see the fans churning from the multiple balcony ceilings.

  Thick columns surrounded the front of the home and continued along the entire structure. Shutters were black and large, bushy ferns hung from the wrought-iron railings on the upper levels, and the entire home was covered in vines.

  That wasn’t normal, to say the least.

  Some of the older homes in the area had issues with the aggressive vines and ivy, but a house like this and covered entirely? Where the owners had the means to keep the structure clear?

  Rosie needed to stop staring at the house and pay attention, because Gabe was heading toward the left wing and she was going to end up driving straight through the front door.

  She followed him around to a separate structure she quickly realized was a garage—a garage large enough to store at least ten cars. How many vehicles did these people have?

  Gabe didn’t pull into one of the bays, instead parking in front, so Rosie did the same, pulling up beside him. She snatched her phone, shoving it into the pocket of her jeans, and her purse off the front seat, and then climbed out.

  Gabe was already waiting for her at the trunk of her Corolla, the weekender bag in hand and silver sunglasses shielding his eyes. He’d pulled his hair back, the dark strands secured at the nape of his neck. “Follow me.”

  Rosie hurried to catch up with him. “What is up with all the ivy?”

  “You know, that’s a good question.” He cut across the driveway and then stepped onto the veranda along the side of the house. “They come from the rose garden out back and have just spread out of control. Lawrence—our father? He used to have the vines pulled down yearly, but they always came back and quick, too. Weird, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She drew the word out as she stared at the green vine crawling over the exterior walls. “That is notably weird.”

  Gabe grinned as he started climbing the covered outdoor stairs. “Sometimes I wonder if the vines are trying to smother the house.”

  Her brows lifted. There had been examples of weird vegetative abnormalities at sites with high paranormal activity. The Hoia Baciu Forest came to mind, which featured an unexplained circle where no living thing grew and a ton of firsthand accounts of the paranormal, but she’d never seen anything like this.

  “This is my private entry,” Gabe explained as he rounded the second-floor landing. “Lucian’s is over in the right wing for now, but he’s moving out, and Dev is up there.” He jerked his chin up.

  Her stomach dipped for some dumbass reason at the mention of Devlin’s name. They stepped out onto the wide, second-floor porch. She followed him around the corner and then saw comfy chairs lined up. There was a closed book, one that appeared to be an old historical romance based on the beautiful dress the model was wearing on the cover. The book rested on a wicker end table. The ivy had made its way to this level, spreading along the walls and even curling around the legs of the chairs. When she looked out over the railing, she wasn’t surprised to see the ivy covering that, too. Down below, there was a huge lima-bean-shaped pool and a . . .

  “Is that a plane?” she asked.

  Gabe chuckled as he opened the door. “It’s Dev’s.”

  “He has a plane?” She turned to him. “Why would he need a plane?”

  “He travels a lot for the company. I guess for him it’s easier to have his own jet,” he answered. “It does come in handy when you want to head somewhere on short notice.”

  “I imagine so.” Actually, that was a lie. Rosie couldn’t imagine waking up one day and randomly deciding to go to Paris or the Caribbean, walking outside, and hopping on a private jet. Like her brain formally rejected the notion and she was a fairly spontaneous person.

  But she was not a super-wealthy spontaneous person.

  “Rosie?” Nikki’s voice floated from somewhere in the recesses of the house. “Is that you?”

  Gabe stepped aside, allowing Rosie to enter what was definitely not an ordinary bedroom in a house. It was an apartment.

  An apartment triple the size of hers.

  Feeling way out of her element, her gaze shifted to Nikki. “Surprise?”

  “What are you doing here?” Nikki shuffled toward her.

  “I helped Gabe get some clothes for you.” Rosie dropped her purse on a chair near the door. She met Nikki halfway, clasping her cool hands in hers. “I wanted to see you and he said I could come over.”

  “Really?” Nikki’s wide, one good eye swerved toward Gabe.

  “I didn’t see a problem with it,” he responded. “I’m going to take this back in the bedroom.”

  She stared at him for a moment and then focused on Rosie. “I’m glad to see you. I’m just surprised. They aren’t really fond of having people over here.”

  “You were surprised?” Rosie giggled. “I was prepared to beg and plead to come see you, even hold your clothing hostage, but I didn’t have to argue at all.”

  “That’s . . . wow. Okay.” She glanced i
n the direction Gabe disappeared. “Sit?” She didn’t wait for Rosie to answer, leading her over to a couch. “I just woke up from a nap, so this was perfect timing.”

  “You look a lot better.”

  “You’re such a liar, but thank you.”

  That wasn’t entirely false. Some of the swelling had gone down and her left eye was open a little, but yeah, she still looked pretty terrible. “How are you feeling?”

  “A lot better. I’m sore, but I’m alive.”

  Rosie glanced at the hallway and when she spoke, she kept her voice low. “How is everything with Gabe?”

  “Good, I guess.” Nikki leaned back into the thick cushions. “I mean, we haven’t talked about anything, but he . . .”

  “He has you set up here, in the de Vincent compound, searched me down to make sure he got the right stuff for you, and even allowed me to visit?” Rosie whispered back, remembering what Devlin had told her. “And his br—”

  “Want anything to drink?” Gabe yelled from the hallway.

  Rosie’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Nikki studied her. “Okay.”

  Just about then, Gabe appeared and decided both of them needed a glass of sweet tea. It was strange, sitting in the de Vincent house, being served iced sweet tea by a de Vincent. It was so surreal, she hadn’t even thought about whipping out the Electronic Voice Phenomena recorder she always carried with her.

  Nikki must’ve been reading her mind, because she said, “I’m surprised you don’t have one of those electronic meter thingies out and taking readings.”

  “A what?” Gabe asked, sitting down on a barstool that butted up to the kitchen island.

  “An EMF meter. It detects electrically charged objects, like power lines and ghosts.”

  “Ghosts?” he repeated.

  “Yep. See, it’s believed that when spirits are around, they emit electronic charges into the air, and an EMF meter will pick up on that.”

  Nikki nodded. “I’ve actually seen her use one and it went off in the middle of nowhere, where there weren’t any power lines or electricity nearby.”

  She was talking about that old cemetery near Tuscaloosa, where she’d met Nikki at the University of Alabama. “I don’t have an EMF meter with me, but I do have the EVP recorder.”

  Interest filled Gabe’s expression as he hooked his feet on the bottom rung of the stool. She realized then he’d taken off his shoes. “And what does that do?”

  Grinning, she glanced over at Nikki and saw that her expression had softened as she stared across the room at Gabe. “So, EVP stands for electronic voice phenomena. The recorder can catch intentional voices—voices you hear with your own two ears—and it catches voices that you can’t hear. Often it picks up just words or short phrases, but if you’ve got a place with a lot of EVPs, then you want to bring in a spirit box.”

  Gabe lowered his glass of tea. “Like a Ouija board?”

  “Hell no, I do not mess with that shit.” Rosie scooted forward. “Spirits sometimes need energy to communicate and there’s evidence that white noise in radio frequencies can provide the necessary energy. A spirit box provides that energy.”

  “Why won’t you use a Ouija board?” Gabe asked, and there wasn’t an ounce of judgment in his tone. Just honest curiosity. “Figured ghost hunters would be all up in that.”

  “Only ghost hunters who don’t care what door they may be opening or who they may be contacting,” Rosie said, thinking of what happened with Sarah. Sometimes being a medium was like being a living, breathing Ouija board. “And not to mention, my mother would straight up knock me into next week if she knew I was messing with those things.” She paused, looking over at Nikki. “I could take out the EVP recorder and see if we catch—”

  “No. No way.” Gabe held up a hand. “I do not want to know what ghosts may or may not be saying. I’d rather just pretend that everything about this house is completely normal.”

  “Gabe and his brothers have this remarkable ability to explain away everything they see or hear,” Nikki chimed in.

  “Like you don’t?” Gabe laughed while Nikki huffed.

  Excitement filled Rosie. Gabe seemed more open to supernatural stuff. Maybe she could tell him about the possibility of his father coming through. At least she would get it off her conscience. “So, what—”

  “Uh-oh,” murmured Nikki, her face turned to the glass balcony doors.

  Rosie followed her gaze, and her stomach leaped to her throat. Every cell in her body seemed to freeze as she watched Devlin de Vincent open the balcony door and step into Gabe’s living room.

  Against her will, her gaze roamed over him. Fitted dark trousers. Tailored white shirt that showed off his shoulders and broad chest. His dark hair was perfectly coiffed like before, not a single strand out of place, and there wasn’t even a five o’clock shadow on his smooth jaw.

  That didn’t seem possible.

  “Someone doesn’t know how to knock,” Gabe muttered.

  Devlin didn’t seem to hear his brother or even realize anyone else was in the room, because those stunning, clear sea-green eyes were latched on to her. He stopped just inside the living room, leaving the door open behind him. “What is she doing here?”

  Rosie’s spine stiffened like hot steel was poured down it and she stopped checking him out right then and there. He said “she” like she was some sort of venereal disease, and that was, well, freaking insulting. “I’m here to break shit and raise some holy hell.”

  Nikki choked on what sounded like a laugh.

  Devlin stared at her, his handsome face cold and bland.

  “I’m visiting my friend.” Rosie rolled her eyes. “That’s all.”

  “Is that so?” he remarked.

  “Uh. Yeah?” she replied.

  “Hi, Dev.” Gabe raised his glass in his direction. “You don’t know this, Rosie, but Dev has a preternatural ability of knowing whenever someone that is not family is in the house.” He paused. “It’s kind of freaky.”

  “While having a preternatural ability sounds interesting, that’s not how I knew someone was here.” Devlin didn’t take his eyes off her. “Her car was parked in my space.”

  “You have assigned parking?” Rosie felt a laugh bubbling up her throat. “At your own house?”

  His eyes narrowed slightly.

  “He likes things to be organized,” Gabe replied. “For everything, even his car, to have a place—his place.”

  “I can answer for myself,” Devlin said dryly, and finally he focused on his brother, and she felt like she could take a full breath. “But thanks for speaking for me.”

  “You’re welcome.” Gabe took a drink.

  Dev stared at his brother and then that unholy intense gaze came back to Rosie. “But you’re not parked in my spot. You’re actually blocking access to my spot in my garage.”

  She stared back at him, stuck for a moment, wondering if he was actually being serious. “Would you like me to move my car?”

  “That would’ve been nice of you to suggest when I first mentioned your car was in my spot,” he said, tone even.

  Nikki stiffened beside her while Gabe sighed. “You don’t have to move your car,” he said. “Dev is fine.”

  Devlin’s gaze still held hers and there was a challenge in that stare.

  Swallowing down a mouthful of words that would probably get her kicked out of the house forever and a day, she stood. “You know what? I’ll move my car.”

  “Rosie,” Nikki started.

  “No, it’s okay.” Rosie smiled at her friend and then whirled toward Devlin, keeping said super-big smile plastered across her face while she glared up at him. “I’m more than happy to move my car out of the way for him. After all, I wouldn’t want him to get stressed-out over it.”

  “I’m not stressed-out over it.” A slight frown pulled at his lips as he turned, watching her walk to her purse.

  “Oh I don’t know about that.” Digging around in her purse,
she pulled out her keys. “You seem like you’re one more occupied parking space away from having a cardiac issue and I would not want to be the cause of that.”

  There was another choked sound, but this time it sounded like it was coming from Gabe. Keys in hand, she spun back to them. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay,” Nikki murmured.

  Moving toward the doors—the doors Devlin blocked—she stopped and stared up at him. “Excuse me?”

  He was still for a moment and then slowly, purposefully, he stepped to the side.

  “Thanks, buddy.” Walking past him, she patted his arm and then stalked right out the doors. Clouds had moved in, and the scent of rain was in the air. A storm was coming, both literally and figuratively.

  Because, of course, Devlin was right behind her. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Are you following me to make sure I move my car?”

  He arched a brow. “I’m not following you.”

  “Sure looks like you’re doing that.” Looking away, she kept walking. “Or are you worried that I’m going to damage your property?”

  “Should I be worried?” He fell into step beside her, easily keeping up with her brisk pace that was close to leaving her winded.

  Rosie rolled her eyes again as she reached the staircase and started down the steps. “Yes. Very worried. I’m one bad ma—” She reached the end of the balcony and could see the massive garage down below, and the vehicle that hadn’t been there when she arrived. Her mouth dropped open. “A truck?”

  Devlin stopped beside her. “That is what it appears to be.”

  Sort of dumbfounded, all she could do was stare. Parked on the other side of her Corolla was a . . . truck. Just an ordinary truck. Looked like a Ford. Not particularly a newer one either. It was black and had mud dried and splattered along the wheels. It wasn’t a Porsche. Or a Jaguar. Or a Benz. Or any other number of luxury cars that cost the price of a town house.

  This man owned a private jet, but drove a truck?

  “Is there something wrong with a truck?” he asked.