11
TYLER
ALL THIS FOR A FUCKING dog, I thought, taking a sip of my cocktail as I stared out at the encroaching twilight. Flickering café lights were starting to wink on, the lines strung between the two wings of the house. Out in the forest, more lights blinked to life, wrapped around trunks and up into the boughs of the trees, making it look like an enchanted woodland.
A shriek rent the air. I dropped my gaze to the lawn, where kids chased each other carrying lit sparklers. Their parents watched them from nearby lounge chairs arranged around a massive firepit. There was a rumor going around that there’d be s’mores later, and the prime seats were filling up fast as the flames started to grow.
To my left, a quartet of bored-looking teens occupied a picnic table, their faces plastered to their phones. On my right, a group of men stood gathered around the grill, talking and laughing as a chef finished cooking the last of the organic, free-range, locally raised, single-source hamburgers and hotdogs on gluten-free buns.
I stood alone. I’d had just about enough of these motherfuckers as I could take, focusing on my dislike of them because it was easier than thinking about my father. All they talked about was their summer vacation plans or which interior designer they should hire to redo their beach house, as if the world weren’t burning around us. Everything was shallow and vapid with these people, and while Stella had been correct about no one outright talking about money, they all seemed to love hinting about just how much of it they had.
A glance behind me showed Stella still sitting at a table by herself beneath an umbrella. She had a glass of water in front of her and nothing else, and it made me want to growl. I’d spent half the party trying to get her to eat, but all she’d put down was a few pieces of plain bread, and it was
bugging the fuck out of me. She had to be starving, and knowing that brought up bad memories, made me feel phantom pangs of hunger. The deep, gnawing kind that felt like your stomach was trying to eat itself.
“So,” someone said, and I turned to see Richard ambling over to me.
Fuck.
My fingers trembled with a mixture of adrenaline and rage, and I dropped my drink to my side so he wouldn’t notice.
“Having fun?” he asked.
“I am,” I lied. “The McCormicks host a good party.”
He grinned. “You might not believe this, but back in our college days, they used to throw ragers.”
“Phil? No. Can’t picture it. Georgie, however … ” I joked, proud of myself for how I was handling this. Meeting my father was the ultimate test of my acting abilities, and if I could just get through tonight without slipping up, I had no doubt I could pull off the rest of my plans without a hitch.
His answering chuckle had me glancing over. Usually, I had to look down at people, but we stood shoulder to shoulder. Yes, I had his height, and his coloring, and his build, and his nose. But I had just enough of my mother’s traits that I didn’t look like a carbon copy of him, and for that, I was immensely grateful. Not just because I didn’t want to look like him, but because it would keep anyone else from getting suspicious if they knew about his secret love child.
A thought struck me then. Was I even the only one? Or were there dozens of us scattered across the world? It wouldn’t surprise me. Once a cheater, always a cheater, and he had so expertly discarded my mom when he found out she was pregnant that I doubted it had been his first rodeo.
“How’d you and Stella meet?” he asked.
I fought the urge to grind my teeth. The fact that he was more interested in me as a stranger than he’d been about his own child was like a punch to the face.
“At her tattoo shop,” I said. We’d agreed to stick to the truth on that front, because the fewer lies we told, the better.
Richard looked me over, clearly searching for ink.
“I went in for a consultation,” I elaborated. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to go through with it.”
Richard nodded sagely. “It’s always better to take your time with things that have some level of permanence.”
I nearly laughed. “Like knocking up your mistresses?” I wanted to ask.
What a fucking hypocritical cunt. “Stella said you just got back from Italy?”
“I did. One of my old college friends recently moved to a vineyard in Tuscany and won’t stop raving about it, and I wanted to see if that kind of
retirement was for me.”
“And?” I asked.
He tipped his head a little. “Still undecided. On the one hand, there’s a simplicity to that kind of life that part of me craves. On the other, I feel like I still have so much work to do here.”
“Did you go by yourself, or with family?” I asked, trying to sound less interested than I was.
“Alone like the tragic bachelor I am,” he said, shooting me a self- deprecating grin.
I didn’t pity him for a second. No way was I falling for this sad-sack act; I was sure he preferred being alone because it meant he could plow his way through the countryside in relative peace. Men like him never fucking changed.
I glanced behind me to check on Stella, but she was gone.
“Looking for your lady love?” Richard asked.
“Yes,” I said, finished with both this conversation and this fucking party.
I’d done what I’d come here to do: ingratiate myself with the inner circle.
Richard tipped his head sideways. “She just went inside a minute ago.”
His expression turned contemplative as he met my gaze. “Honestly, I’m surprised she stuck it out as long as she did. Normally, she’s at these things five, maybe ten minutes before she disappears.” He smiled, patting me on the arm, and it was a struggle not to jerk away. “You must be a good influence on her. Not that she isn’t a good person,” he rushed to add. “Just made some mistakes in her youth. But she’s doing everything she can to make that right, and not enough people give her credit for that.” The last part was said with a disapproving glare toward a gaggle of older women who hadn’t so much as looked in Stella’s direction the entire afternoon.
I nearly scoffed. How could Stella possibly make “right” what she’d done? In my opinion, there was no coming back from that kind of fuck-up,
and Richard’s opinion only reinforced my belief that he was one of the shittiest people here.
I tipped my drink toward him. “I’m glad to hear you feel that way.”
Another lie. “And it was nice talking to you.”
“You, too, Theo,” he said, eyeing me a little closer than he had a moment ago.
I said my goodbyes and headed into the house to look for Stella, but she wasn’t in the two back rooms being used for the party. My instinct was to ask the catering staff if they had seen her, because I knew they paid more attention than anyone realized, so I headed toward the kitchen. There, I found a harried-looking woman in a chef’s hat placing candles on a birthday cake.
She stiffened when I entered her line of sight, clutching her chest. “God, I thought you were Mrs. McCormick again.”
Which told me a few important things, all of which I could exploit.
“Sorry for the jumpscare,” I said with a wink.
She looked me over, taking in my expensive clothes and realizing I wasn’t part of the help. A blush stole over her face. “Not that Georgianna showing up in her own kitchen would be a bad thing, I just—”
I held up my hands. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to explain yourself.” I glanced over my shoulder. “If it helps, I think she’s still outside terrifying one of the caterers.”
The woman gave me a watery smile. “Do you … need something?”
Ah. Because why else would one of these rich assholes be in the butler’s kitchen?
I dropped my voice into a conspiratorial tone. “I’m hiding. All anyone wants to talk to me about is golf, and I don’t play.”
Her eyes widened. “An egregious sin.”
I chuckled, motioning toward the three-tiered, heavily decorated dessert.
“Did you create this?”
She nodded, starting to soften up, a hint of pride in her expression. “I did.”
“It’s stunning.” I sent her a questioning look. “Is it people food or dog food?”
“People food,” she answered. “Poor Tippi’s stomach isn’t what it used to be.”
I nodded like I already knew this. “Have you worked for the McCormicks for long?”
She laughed. “Sometimes it feels like forever.”
“Any tips for a newcomer?” I asked. “I’m Stella’s boyfriend.”
“Oh, really?” she said, eyeing me like she couldn’t picture the two of us together.
“We’re the opposites-attract kind of couple.”
She grinned. “That’s me and my Hamid.”
I spent the next ten minutes pleasantly engaged with Mrs. Tori Ahmadi, being my most charming self, asking seemingly innocuous questions about Stella’s parents under the guise of using the information to make a good impression, when the truth was, I had ulterior motives with much darker intentions.
“Has Stella passed by here lately?” I said during a natural pause in the conversation.
Tori nodded toward the front of the house. “I think she’s out front.
Probably letting the air out of Cordelia’s tires.”
I frowned. “Who?”
“Short, toadlike woman. Deeply unpleasant.”
“Ah,” I said. I knew exactly who Tori meant. Earlier, a woman matching that description had shaken her head at Stella’s tattoos and muttered Such a shame in the loudest stage whisper I had ever heard. “I should probably go help her then. Many hands make quick work and all that.”
Tori wished me luck, I thanked her for the insider tips, and left the kitchen, passing Blake in the hall.
No one else was around. This was the first time we’d been alone-ish since our “bonding time” in the study. I braced myself for another ugly scene, but I must have driven my point home earlier because he took one look at me and dropped his gaze, striding by in complete silence. Despite the fact that he seemed cowed now, I didn’t trust him not to try and be brave again at a later date, and I made a mental note to keep an eye out for him.
I pushed open the front door and emerged onto the steps. Night was closer here, more apparent in the thickening shadows of the woodland. The only sources of light came from the house itself and the lamp posts, set at intervals along the driveway, illuminating the way back to civilization. The sounds of the party were distant enough that those of a summer twilight
reasserted their dominance. I heard crickets. The last calls of a pair of mourning doves.
One day, this could all be yours, I told myself. Or maybe something a bit nicer. Smaller. Less ostentatious and more secluded, with a better view.
Here, all you had to stare at were tree trunks and the sky.
I lifted my gaze heavenward, searching for the first light of the stars.
Now that I’d successfully infiltrated my way into Richard’s life, I didn’t have long—a few months, maybe a year—before my goal would be complete, and I’d be free to move on. Free to finally start living for myself instead of being driven by this constant, lashing need to avenge my mother.
This was the life she should have led. Spoiled, pampered, happy, and safe. Instead of … no. I’d told myself I wouldn’t think about that tonight.
Wouldn’t let myself dwell on her final, awful, lonely years.
A soft, feminine swear had me dropping my focus back to earth. The hood of a car was popped toward the end of the line, close to where I’d parked. I caught a flash of white around it, heard another low curse.
Stella.
I took the stairs down and headed her way. I’d thought Tori was joking about her letting the air out of some snooty bitch’s tires, but maybe she was right. Hoping to sneak up on her, I moved parallel to the parked cars. More swears colored the night, and my curiosity deepened. What the hell was she doing? I crouched low and rounded a Beamer, creeping up from behind to see her elbow-deep in the engine block, her phone propped on the carburetor while a YouTube video told her where she could find the spark plugs.
I straightened to my full height. Jesus Christ, she was actually disabling someone’s car.
And why did that suddenly make me respect her just the tiniest bit? Her vindictive behavior proved she had a backbone, but it also meant I’d have to be more careful around her from here on out—not nice, though; I’d never sink to those depths. Just … cautious.
I crossed my arms over my chest, watching as Stella fiddled with wires.
From the volume of her phone and her continued swearing, two things were clear: she had no idea what she was doing, and no idea that someone else was out here with her. I glanced around, frowning at her piss-poor planning.
Yes, it was dusk, and the party was still in full swing, but it was light
enough that anyone coming out to their vehicle would have caught her in
the act.
Amateur.
I took another step forward, close enough to reach out and touch her if I wanted, and said in a singsong voice, “Whatcha doin’?”
Stella shrieked, jumping straight up and banging the top of her head on the underside of the hood. An unholy gong rang out, and Stella sank to her knees on the gravel, half slumped over the bumper.
I stepped forward and grabbed the hood before it slammed down on top of her. “If this leads to some sort of brain swelling and you die, please know that your debt will revert back to your brother, and I won’t go nearly as easy on him as I have you.”
She let out a feeble groan, hand rising shakily to her head, and it took me a second to realize she was flipping me off.
I snorted and propped the hood back up. There weren’t any obvious signs of tampering, and from how frustrated Stella had sounded, I was guessing that meant she hadn’t managed to do any actual damage.
“You weren’t even near the cylinder head,” I told her.
“What?” she mumbled.
“Where the spark plugs are. Here, look.” I hauled her upright and showed her. “But that’s easy to fix. If you really want to fuck with someone, loosen the connector on their mass airflow sensor.”
She pushed away from me, a bit wobbly, but able to stand on her own.
Probably not concussed then. Shame. “What’s that do?” she asked. “I’m not trying to hurt Cordelia, just inconvenience her.”
“Rough idling. Stalling.” I shrugged. “It might not even start.”
A soft snick hit my ears. I glanced around the side of the car to see the front door opening. Fuck, we were about to get caught. Quickly, I closed the hood, grabbed Stella, and sat her on top of it, shoving my way between her thighs.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to push me off.
“Incoming.”
She glanced toward the house, and without having to be told, wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Just in time. The couple waved goodbye to someone and then turned our way.
I yanked Stella forward at the last second and sealed my mouth over hers. We were near the far end of the cars, the house lights barely reaching us. To the other couple, we probably appeared as shadowy outlines. Which meant we didn’t really have to sell this kiss.
Stella must not have realized that, because her lips parted beneath mine.
I stayed frozen in place for half a second, torn between letting her embarrass herself and fighting my own morbid curiosity to see if our first kiss had been nothing but a fluke. On the one hand, humiliating her held real appeal, but on the other— Her tongue traced the seam of my mouth. I parted my lips and kissed her back, and, fuck, it was just as good as the first time. No hesitancy, no softness. If anything, this one was even better. Because it was angry.
Stella kissed me like she was trying to punish me, mouth bruising, hands fisting in my shirt. She pulled away just enough to bite my lower lip, hard, and between the stab of pain and the taste of copper on my tongue, I knew she’d broken skin. My dick went rock hard, and I shifted my hips backward before she noticed and thought I was actually into this. I wasn’t. What had she said earlier? Not even God was?
Lights flashed over us, and we froze. A catcall rent the air, and then the headlights pivoted away as the people in the car rolled down the driveway.
Stella and I tore our mouths apart, both of us breathing hard, her dark lipstick smeared to hell again.
I grinned, knowing it wasn’t friendly. “It looks like Dracula blew a load on your face.”
“Yeah, well, it looks like you’ve been out here sucking tailpipes.” She shoved me back a step and slid off the hood. “God, I hate you.”
“Right back at you, Elvira.”
Without another word, she turned and stomped toward the house, and I took that as my sign to get the fuck out of there while I still had some of my sanity intact.
