by Raine Miller
I laughed him off and refocused my attention to his mother, because she was the one who had addressed me, but Judge Blakney inserted himself into our conversation. "Yes, social work is your focus at university, is it not?" He leveled his cold gray eyes at me in a way that made my spine tingle, and not in a good way. More like a bug under a magnifying glass with the sun burning a hole right through him.
"Yes…I'll have my master's in social work in another month. Then I'll apply for my license with the state so I can practice."
"Ah, a public servant. How noble. I must say it's very useful in its way…at least for the time being." James stiffened beside me, obviously annoyed by his dad's comment. He reached for my hand under the table and squeezed it. I assumed it was a signal to avoid taking the bait and responding defensively to the thinly veiled insult, so I took the high road instead.
"I hope I can be useful to those that need some help," I said firmly, meeting his callous eyes head-on. After my long night, I was in no mood for delving into another one of those conversations that started with: "Are you sure you want to surround yourself with poor people and their problems?" I'd heard it before, and I was sure I'd hear it again considering the world I came from, but the way in which James's father spoke to me sounded so archaically pompous, like he was of a higher class of human than the rest of us—even better than his own family.
What an incredibly heartless asshole.
Did he not have a shred of compassion for others in hard situations? And he was a fucking judge—the most revered "public" servant of all. God, pity the poor souls who had him assigned to their cases.
"I think you misunderstand me, Winter. I do approve of your endeavors to help the poor and disenfranchised. It will make for good press certainly." His eyes held no trace of insincerity.
What the hell? Now he was bestowing compliments? I didn't know what to make of that last comment he'd thrown at me about "good press" but I decided I wasn't going to engage him. If he could speak in riddles, then so could I.
"Actually, I am hoping to set up a private shelter facility that I will spearhead. That's my dream." I looked at James again and smiled at him, hoping he caught my appreciation for his offer to help me realize my dream. Even if it didn't work out, just the fact he was willing to do something as drastic as marry me so I could get to my money left me utterly speechless. Come to think of it, James was really good at rendering me speechless over a lot of things.
James gave me a wink back and said to his father, "I'm very proud of her and her altruistic ambitions."
"As you should be," Judge Blakney said with a thoroughly disturbing smile.
The tingle in my spine returned, and as it zapped me a second time I had to suppress a shudder. What is his deal? I've known him for years and he's never been this weird.
"Please don't take anything my father says to heart, okay?"
This was Victoria trying to smooth things over for her badly behaving parent while we set up the desserts to bring out later.
"It's okay, I'm used to it actually. What he said is nothing I haven't heard before, Victoria. Really, I can take it."
"Well, it's still rude as hell for him to even say one thing to you about what you choose to study in school, or what to do with your life. But I get it. He didn't even want me working for your brother as PA to the head of a billion-dollar corporation. He said that being a personal assistant was not a worthy occupation." She rolled her eyes as we both laughed at the ridiculousness of her statement.
"Yeah, well Caleb would probably give you a share in BGE to keep you as his PA. He's really worried you'll leave him after you get married."
"Caleb doesn't have anything to worry about, and I've told him that. I love my job, and nobody is going to dictate what I choose to do for a career." I sensed she might be referring to her fiancé, but I didn't want to be nosey and ask her outright. Clay Whitcomb was a charming guy, handsome and successful, but there was something just a little too shiny about him. A high-profile lawyer like James, but in a completely different way. Where James was serious and all business, Clay came off as arrogant with a little bit of snob thrown in. I didn't really see his attraction, but Victoria must see something in him that the rest of us didn't, because she'd agreed to marry him. Their wedding was planned for July.
"So, you want me to tell Caleb it'll be easier for you stay on as his PA if he doubles your salary? I'll be seeing him this weekend at Lucas's place on the island," I teased.
"Oh, please tell him hi for me," she said a little too quickly.
Why would she need to tell Caleb "hi" when she saw him every day? Weird. "Okay…I will?" I left the question dangling.
"I meant Lucas…tell Lucas I said hello." A flush appeared over her face, and I got the impression there was far more to this story than I was aware. Lucas and Victoria? I didn't know of the two of them having any kind of history, but then secrets are meant to stay secret, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities that I wasn't in the know. I kept pretty busy with school and work most of the time. Interesting. Yet she's engaged to another man.
"I will tell Lucas then," I promised. "He's going to pick me up from the helipad at BGE in the morning. It's a good thing I trust his piloting skills, because I am not a fan of helicopter rides." I shook my head. "Have you ever flown with Lucas?" It was a calculated question on my part—I was curious to see her reaction—because I am a hopeless matchmaker. My sister would verify the "hopeless" part due to some disastrous dates I set her up with before she met Roger.
"Once."
I caught some regret in that one small word, and she didn't offer anything more to elaborate, so I let it go. Vanessa joined us then and asked if everything was ready, so it was time for a change of topic anyway.
But I'd noticed something important in my conversation with Victoria.
What had started out being about Caleb, quickly switched to Lucas the instant his name came up. She didn't acknowledge my offer to bribe Caleb into giving her a raise for agreeing to stay on as his PA—which was easily a joke, but seriously a viable option for her if she ever wanted to use it on him. Most people would at least laugh at the humor in the silly words rather than ignore them completely. But not Victoria tonight. Hmmm.
She also never mentioned her fiancé in the course of the entire afternoon. Not that she missed him, or that he might have arranged a phone call from wherever he was to wish her and her family a happy holiday—just nothing at all. It struck me as odd, because Victoria wasn't normally so quiet. Her silence was actually surprising.
"Is your hand hurting, dear?" Mrs. Blakney asked kindly when she found me tossing back a couple of my prescription painkillers amidst dessert. Choosing between the exquisite-looking pumpkin cheesecake on my plate and pills would normally be a no-brainer. Dessert always won. But today, less than twenty-four hours since I'd sliced my hand open, I needed the pills more.
"It is starting to ache again actually."
"You must have been so frightened when it happened." She focused on the bandage covering my right hand. "Was it terribly painful?"
"It wasn't really. That's the ironic thing. The knife injury didn't hurt, in fact I didn't even feel it happen. It was the sight of all the blood that got me. I just can't tolerate looking at it. I basically passed out and don't remember very much about last night." I smiled at James and then leaned into him a bit. "If it wasn't for your son helping me, I don't know where I'd be right now."
Judge Blakney said, "You'll have to work on that when you start a family. Children bloody themselves all the time."
Excuse me, but what?
Where in the hell had that comment come from?
I gave the judge my best resting bitch face and shrugged. "It's a very good thing I intend to focus on my career for the moment, then."
Judge Blakney raised a challenging eyebrow, first at me and then at his son, but kept any comments to himself. Probably a smart move on his part based on the anger James was throwing off in tense waves. His
whole body was stiff beside me yet again. Clearly, his father irritated the hell out of him. His dad was an ass.
I marveled at how the judge could effortlessly turn any topic into something weird and mysterious, while Mrs. Blakney did her best to defuse the awkwardness her husband's comments caused. And she's had over thirty years to perfect it. Definitely a saint. Jesus, how the heck did she put up with him?
"What color is your dress for The Autumn Ball?" she inquired in an attempt to change the subject. "Victoria and I just had our fittings earlier this week."
"Black," I answered. "I know it's not very festive, but I love the dress, and it just…works very well…for me this year."
She reached across the table and squeezed my undamaged hand in the sweetest gesture of comfort.
She understood. She totally got that I was still mourning the loss of my father and didn't feel particularly celebratory at attending this first major charity event since he'd passed. And I greatly appreciated her silent message to me.
"I have some stunning opera-length gloves I'd like to show you that would probably go nicely with your black gown. They are a beautiful dark coral. Nobody will ever know you've hurt your hand if you wear them."
"How kind of you, Mrs. Blakney. I would love to see them. That's a really good idea for accessorizing this year," I said, holding up my bandaged hand. "I'm going to need something pretty to cover up this ugly thing."
"Oh, please call me Vanessa, or even better just Mom…if you prefer," she said with another sweet smile.
Ohh-kay then. This whole afternoon just kept getting weirder by the hour.
I nodded and smiled back at her while squeezing James's hand under the table for some kind of reassurance.
He leaned in and whispered, "They all adore you, even my prick of a father thinks you're perfect."
Perfect for what, exactly? His father thought my career choice was substandard at best and would…do until I started a family. Call me Mom? They thought there was something between James and me? How ridiculous.
Yet.
He'd suggested we get married on the way over… Had he said something to his parents before I arrived to make them believe that? Like this was a test run, or something?
Was James truly serious about his offer to marry me?
Chapter Eleven
JAMES
The reason I was happier than I could ever remember being—after spending an entire afternoon tolerating the company of my dickhead father—was sitting beside me in my car, smelling divine and looking beautiful.
I might have lost my mind during the course of the day, saying things I probably shouldn't have said, but I was actually happy for once.
And feeling very selfish—if I had to put a word to it—because even the limited discussion of a marriage of convenience didn't worry me. I already knew I wanted to keep her. I saw her face when I mentioned dissolution on the way over. I'd felt like such a bastard for using that word about our marriage. It was a lie.
My doubts and fears about bringing Winter into my life were being blown away bit by bit. The way she'd handled my dad today was nothing short of brilliant. Nobody pushed Winter Blackstone around and had an easy time of it. And I started toying with the idea that maybe it could work with us. My father's threat wasn't going away. I could see how ecstatic he was at the prospect of having a Blackstone in the family. Hell, he'd probably be calling me before Monday to ask the date we'd chosen for our big day. Not happening, Dad.
Jesus…
No doubt he was eying campaign contributions from her extremely wealthy family. Also not happening. He would find—when and if he ever saw the terms of our prenup—that wouldn't be the case.
Because one thing was crystal clear.
Money was absolutely not on my list of reasons for marrying Winter.
Watching her earlier, charming my father speechless, had been a thing of triumph I suddenly had some hope for my future.
Why?
Because of the beautiful, sweet, smart, and compassionate girl beside me. Winter had a way of making the heaviest burdens feel lighter. She was responsible for the hopeless ache throbbing inside my heart feel as if it was disappearing. I hadn't felt this optimistic in years, so I knew it was all because of her.
I glanced over to find her studying me. She didn't seem upset or distressed, but if I had to guess, she was thinking about our day and processing everything that had been said. Winter was a thinker. Her emotions held weight in her decisions, yes, but she worked things through logically before acting on them.
"Thank you for agreeing to come with me today. It was the best Thanksgiving I can remember."
Her mouth curled into a half-smile and then fell away. "You're welcome. Thank you for inviting me to the strangest Thanksgiving I can remember."
I couldn't help the short laugh that escaped. "Like I said to you while we were there, they think you're perfect. My mother adores you, and my father was charmed into being polite, and even threw out a couple of compliments; what could possibly be strange about that?" We both knew I was joking, even though what I'd just said was the straight-up truth.
"Oh, I don't know," she said with a sexy tilt of her head. "How about why was I hit with the strangest impression…several times, mind you…that your parents think we're a couple and getting married. Oh, and starting a family of children who will bloody themselves from time to time." She folded her arms beneath her breasts and waited for me to start explaining.
Off-the-goddamn-charts gorgeous.
And if I wasn't driving us into the city right now, I'd have her arms pinned and my tongue down her throat. I'd be kissing her breathless until I had my fill…which would be a very long fucking time.
This was my girl, and she really was perfect in every way. I had to make this relationship work—for the both of us. If that meant giving up something I thought I had to have in order to be complete, then I'd give it up.
Winter superseded that need.
And it was that simple.
The time for putting her off was over, and she certainly deserved some sort of explanation after the shitshow she'd just put up with. "You're right, Win, my parents do think we are a couple…and furthermore, they fully believe we're about to announce an engagement."
"Yeah, that came through loud and clear, but what I want to know is why. Where is it coming from, James? I thought you came up with the idea while we were in the car on our way to their house. But they obviously knew before I did."
I forced the embarrassment and shame aside for the moment and remembered this was Winter I was confiding in. She would never judge me based on the actions of my father. She wasn't that kind of person. "My father will soon announce his bid for a seat in the United States Senate. He gave me the task of settling down, in the best interests of his campaign, which will run on a platform of family based values. It's all bullshit, but he will find a way to force the issue somehow. Trust me, I've had firsthand experience."
She took a moment to absorb that bombshell before asking me a question that brought emotions to the surface that weren't welcome right now—or ever. The shit I kept locked up in a very dark place. "Like what happened with Leah… You mean your father had a hand in what she did to you?"
I stared at the road, forcing the words out of my mouth in order to answer her without subjecting her to the bitter poison of the truth. "Yes. To both questions."
The heat of her eyes on me burned, but I couldn't face her. I might be able to confide in her, but that didn't mean I was comfortable doing it. "And you're just going to go along with his plans for you?" Again, I felt the pull of her eyes willing me to look at her before she added, "That doesn't sound like you at all, James."
"You're right, it isn't me," I answered, grateful she seemed to have dropped Leah as a topic for discussion. I didn't want to talk about Leah with Winter. In fact, I didn't need to talk about or think about Leah ever again.
"So why are you even considering going along with your father's plan for you
?"
Because…there's you.
"His demand that I choose someone got me thinking about you. For the last couple of weeks, I've thought about you a lot, but I didn't want to influence you in any way. That wouldn't be fair. And like I've told you before, I'd never consciously do something to hurt you, but I'm not going to marry just anybody in order to please my father."
"And you were thinking of…of m-me?"
"Winter, you're the only one I thought of."
"Oh," she said softly as she took in the idea. At least she wasn't screaming for me to let her out of the car so she could get away from me. Overall, she was taking this news well. Is that because she does actually love me?
"Look, I don't want to get married at all, but if I have to"—I let that sink in for a second—"and there's an additional bonus of being able to help you gain access to your trust, then yes, I would marry you."
"But you didn't even ask me to come along to your family's Thanksgiving until this morn"—she paused as she figured out the chain of events— "because you had already decided to defy him."
"You're very astute, but then I've always known that about you."
"You have?" Her shy question made my cock wake up. This marriage talk was sending the blood in my body straight southward. If we were married? I sure as fuck wouldn't be able to keep my hands off her. Not after where my hands were last night. Touching her, bringing her to a shattering orgasm, was something I wanted again, even if I didn't deserve it. Even if I had to do it all vanilla. There. Admitting it to myself wasn't as bad as I'd thought it would be.
"But yeah, I'd decided to defy my father. He gave me an ultimatum to bring my choice with me to Thanksgiving so they could meet her." I gripped the steering wheel and squeezed until the leather protested with a squeak. "I know that sounds so fucking archaic and absurd, but it's exactly what he said to me three weeks ago."
"Oh my God, your dad is using you for his own gain." She couldn't mask her revulsion, and honestly, I'd be worried if she wasn't fucking horrified.
