Cunning (Infidelity #2) (5 page)

Not every punishment began as a family conference.

The distinctive click of the key turning in the lock echoed through my dark bedroom. Consciously, I held my breath, praying to stay silent. I should have gone into the closet.

Why didn’t I go into the closet?

My current location was only hidden by darkness and the obstruction of my massive bed. With little light, I could barely make out the pattern of the floral bedspread or bed skirt. Nevertheless, the web-like pattern of the lace skirt allowed me a limited view of the door, something I wouldn’t have had in the closet. Golden light from the hallway spilled over the carpet as the door slowly opened. I gulped my hiccupped cry, trying to stay hidden, waiting to see feet, and praying he wasn’t returning.

My pulse raced as the shoes came into view. Black shoes, lady’s shoes, and black slacks. I sighed with relief as my forehead dropped to my raised knees, and I braced my eyes for the flood of light. It didn’t come. The door closed, and the familiar click of the lock let my heartbeat slow, closer to its normal rhythm. Sometimes I wondered if I wore a beacon. No matter where I was, Jane always found me.

“Child, what are you doing?”

I shook my head as she walked around the bed. Even with the thick carpet, the sound of her footsteps filled the room. I didn’t want to look up. I wanted to disappear. If only invisibility were real, I’d do that. I’d stay invisible so no one could see me, and if I were lucky, I wouldn’t see them.

“Alexandria, baby, I’m talking to you.” Her tone was soft yet firm.

“N-No, you’re not. I’m not here. You can’t talk to someone who’s not here.” My words were muffled as I kept my head down.

“You’re not here? Then where are you?”

“I’m invisible. You can’t see me.” At nine years old it made perfect sense. People did it in books. They used cloaks or took potions. Maybe if I believed, I could make it true.

“Invisible? If you’re invisible, aren’t you still here?”

I shrugged. She was right. Invisibility was the wrong wish. I wanted to be someone else in another life.

Jane eased herself to the floor beside me. As she did, she blew out a long whoosh of breath and moaned, settling into her new position. Warmth radiated from her skin and covered me with a different cloak, one that enveloped both of us and only us. My cheeks briefly rose in a small smile.

“I’m getting too old to be sitting on the floor.” She rubbed the top of my head. “But I did it for you. Now look up at old Jane. I want to see those beautiful eyes.”

I gave up on my invisibility, since it obviously wasn’t working; however, I didn’t look up as she asked. Instead, I fell across her chest, landing with my face against breasts as her arms encircled my shoulders.

“Shhh,” she said as she stroked my hair. “What’s this all about?”

It took minutes or longer before the words came. “Do you think I could move away?”

“Move away from Montague Manor and your momma? Do you want to do that?”

“I do. Will you come with me?” It was the first spark of hope I’d had since Alton entered my room, mad again at something I did or didn’t do. I couldn’t tell. As much as I loved when he was out of town, his return was rarely worth the days of reprieve. He came home angry, as if he wanted to still be gone. I wanted him gone too. Why wouldn’t he stay gone?

There was always some unforgivable sin that I’d committed in his absence. Many times like this evening, I didn’t even know what he was talking about. That didn’t matter. I’d learned that pleading my case was the spark to his rage. Admitting my guilt and taking
my medicine
, as he called it, was the quickest way to a speedy end. Tonight with his disgusting breath smelling like the drinks he always drank, he ranted on about how I was a disappointment—to Mother, him, and the Montague name. It was as if he blamed me that there wasn’t another Montague heir to take my place.

Jane’s reassuring tone broke through my thoughts. “Now tell me how we’re gonna live. And where do you think we can go where your momma won’t find us?”

“We can change our names. I read a book about people who did that. You can work, and I bet momma doesn’t look. He said she’d be happier without me.”

Jane continued to rub my back. “Alexandria, your momma loves you.” She tapped my chest. “In here, you know that. Don’t you ever forget that. And one day you can move away.” She lifted my chin. “And when you do, old Jane will be so proud of you.” Her warm lips kissed my forehead. “Not just then—now too. Right now I’s proud of you. So is your momma.”

I lowered my eyes. “That’s not what—”

“Shhh. What did I say about that? You’re as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside. Some peoples not. Some people look pretty but they’re ugly on the inside. Don’t let that ugly inside of you. You keep it out.” She tapped on my chest again. “That heart inside of you. Child, that’s yours. You protect it. One day you may decide to share it, but don’t do that because no one told you to. You do it because you found someone who is as beautiful on the inside as you.”

I nodded and laid my head back against her chest. After a few minutes, I confessed, “I really hate him. I do.”

“No, there’s no room in that beautiful heart for hate.”

“He hates me.”

She took a deep breath, making my head moved up and down. “I’m sure he’d say he doesn’t. Just remember, you are Alexandria Charles Montague Collins. Those gates out there
…
what do they say?”

“Montague Manor,” I mumbled. I’d heard this before.

“Whose name is that?”

“Momma’s and mine.”

Jane nodded. “Just remember that.”

“I wish I could forget it.”

I took a deep breath and stood, doing my best to ignore the lingering soreness. Stepping over the broken lamp, I opened the drapes and blinked. The memory from my childhood and of
Storm Nox
dissipated as bright sunshine flooded the executive suite. Gazing out over the park, I looked to the northeast, toward Patrick’s apartment.

His proximity gave me strength. Despite what Nox might think, I wasn’t alone. Soon I’d be starting classes. My world would grow. I’d done it before. I’d do it again. If my childhood hadn’t broken me, Nox Demetri wouldn’t. The memory I recalled was right. Jane was right. It was
my
heart. It wasn’t up to Nox or anyone else who I gave the power to break it or heal it. It was up to me, and I’d protect it.

With each passing minute, I bargained with myself and made myself a deal. I’d recover my heart and put the pieces back together. The job of the heart was to pump blood. I’d glue the pieces of my heart using blood and tears, but they wouldn’t be my own. They’d come from those who’d wronged me—from Alton, my mother, and now Nox.

When a year was up, I’d be the one to walk away but not until I had Nox Demetri completely under my spell. Not until he was the one who would need to pick up the pieces of his heart. In doing so, I’d also secure my schooling and determine just how much of myself I was willing to give to Montague. Alton might believe he won, but he didn’t know the truth. He’s the one who made me a fighter, and this fight wasn’t over.

I opened the door to the balcony and inhaled the summer air. Each moment in the sunlight invigorated me. I’d lived behind smoke and mirrors my whole life. I could handle one more year.

As I stared out at the park, I remembered the envelope Isaac gave me. Walking to the bar, the one where I made Nox a drink, I poured myself a glass of moscato—after all, by Montague Manor standards, it was still white-wine time—and sat carefully on one of the sofas as the warm air from the open door blew gently through the suite.

Retrieving my purse, I found my phone and the envelope. I checked the time; it was nearly four-thirty. On the outside of the envelope was the room number. Tentatively, I ripped the seam and pulled the pages free. The first page was a handwritten letter. Though I’d only seen Nox’s handwriting on the note he left for me the first morning I awoke in his bed, I knew this note was penned by him.

My steeled heart ached to flutter. Who handwrote notes anymore?

And then I saw the second page. It was a photo—of me. By the outfit, I knew it was one of the shots taken yesterday at Infidelity, one that Karen said was for my profile. It wasn’t on photo paper. As a matter of fact, the page was creased throughout, as if it had been wadded and then straightened.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I began to read his words.

Charli, or should I say Miss Alexandria Collins?

I imagined our reunion and waited for my phone to ring. Never in my wildest imagination did I envision this (see picture). For the record, prostitution doesn’t become you
…
too much makeup can’t cover the beautiful princess in my memory…

The paper blurred in my trembling hand.

…Del Mar was a dream. Reality is here.

If it’s a whore you want to be, then I’m your man. I told you my tastes were unique. We’ve only scratched the surface. Miss Collins, you’re mine—body and soul—for the next twelve months. In Del Mar you gave me two nights; now I’ve purchased 365 more. They’re mine and only mine.

Your ability to question or dispute me in any way was relinquished the moment you signed that agreement.

Alexandria Collins, I’m a businessman. I don’t make bad investments. I will get what I paid for.

The butterflies I’d imagined at his handwritten note evaporated, washed away by a deluge of bile and contempt. How dare he address me in this manner? He doesn’t know with what I was faced. He doesn’t know me. Besides he’s obviously an Infidelity client. That negates his ability to act superior.

Fuck him!

I forced myself to continue reading.

I look forward to tonight—not to fucking a princess who enjoyed being treated like a slut but to fucking a slut who for a week pretended to be a princess.

You have more instructions in the bedroom.

Do not disobey me.

~Mr. Demetri

I took a ragged breath, swallowed the contents of my wine glass, and stood. The shakiness of my knees wasn’t brought on by sadness, though I admitted it was there along with hurt. No, the trembling was rage. I balled the letter and the picture, smashing it into submission.

After pouring another glass of wine, I made my way to the bedroom with a tug of my suitcase. It was still in the living room where the bellman had left it. Focusing on the bed, I barely noticed the luxury of the room. Upon the bed was a black dress. Reading the label, I recognized that it was a very nice black dress. Next to the dress were a pearl choker necklace, a shoebox, and another note.

I ran my fingers over the pearls. The necklace was stunning, but in an odd way reminded me of a collar. Surely, that wasn’t his intention, was it?

I lifted the page in disgust.

You have a five o’clock appointment in the hotel’s spa. Don’t be late. They have instructions on what to do. Don’t change them
.

Later tonight you will go to Mobar, the bar here in the Mandarin. Be there by eight. Wear what is on the bed and
only
what is on the bed. Order a lemon drop martini. Do not drink. Nurse it, play with it, run your fingers around the rim of the glass. Other than the bartender, don’t speak to anyone. As your finger slides circles over the smooth rim, imagine my fingers circling your tits, teasing your clit, and plunging deep in your pussy. I want you wet and ready for me.

I’ve never picked up a prostitute at a bar. I will tonight. (You see? My investment is already paying off. I have many more fantasies, and I’ve paid well to have them all come true.)

In this outfit, no one else will know what you truly are. They’ll see the princess. Reality will be our secret.

In the handbag is cash. Use it to pay for your drink and keep the rest. That’s what you wanted—to be paid. I’ll pay, and you will obey.

It wasn’t signed.

Dick!

I ground my teeth together as I stared at the sexy dress. He was right. No one would know. Well, the hell with him. I wasn’t that easily intimidated. He had a fantasy about picking up a prostitute? Fine, I’d role-play. But Mr. Nox Demetri was going to learn that despite his earlier show of force, I did have hard limits. I’d play his games but on my terms.

I picked up the phone and hit the button for the front desk.

“Hello, Miss Charli.”

That must have been the name Nox gave when he registered. “Hello, can you please connect me to the spa. I need to cancel my appointment.”

I COULDN’T CONCENTRATE.
Shit, I could barely function. Thoughts of Charli consumed my mind—her gorgeous eyes, the way she looked at me when I came out of that room and our gaze met. I hadn’t planned on going to the Mandarin yet or being there when she arrived. I had things to do, but I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t
not
see her. The attraction was too strong.