Chapter 19
“Mom?”
Her head tips to one side, then one eye narrows.
Everything slows as her body stiffens.
Holy fuck. Is this really happening?
Tuxedo shoves the mic in her face.“What drew you to this painting?” he asks.
She takes the mic, moving her gaze to the crowd as she stands tall. Regal. “This haunting piece is something I don’t usually see amongst a well-dressed lot like this.” She gestures to the crowd, some guests laughing. “It’s gritty and dark, unlike Paradise Hill. It reminds me of something from my past. My, uh…” She glances at me, her brows furrowing. That poise falls for a second before she straightens up, a smile reappearing. “My niece would create shapes in a similar style and this piece touches close to home. And my new office needs something to pull it all together.” Some guests in the crowd laugh again.
“What made you bid so high?” Tuxedo asks.
“Darling,” she says, her tone far from what I hear in The Valley. It’s haughty. Proud. Her long gold-adorned fingers land on Tuxedo’s shoulder. “You can’t put a price on art. Or charity.” The crowd applauds. “Taxes will take care of the rest.” The crowd laughs again, but it’s all muffled as my heart pounds against my chest.
My fantasy woman in the flesh.
“Amazing,” Tuxedo says. “If you can follow me, we can complete your purchase. Congratulations, Miss Walsh.”
I’m not sure if she recognizes me or if I’m some stranger to her, but as our host leads her away, I’m not losing my one opportunity to find out.
“Ember?” Gray appears beside me. “You good? You look like you’ve seen a monster.” Or a ghost.
Guests move towards the drawing, my drawing as she disappears into the crowd. Shaking my head out of my daze, I leave Gray, my eyes on copper as I push through the guests. “Excuse me. Pardon. Sorry”
It’s hard to remember my manners as I shove through the crowd.
A group of people approach me, standing in my path. “What wonderful work, darling,” a woman covered in pearls and diamonds says. “You’re so young. Are you studying? You must be a great addition to Saint Bons.”
“Yes,” a man in a suit and bowtie pipes in. “How lucky we are to have you in Paradise.” Trying to see through the small group, I’m too distracted to really hear their praise. “Who are your parents?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” I say, the thoughts in my head spilling out. “Sorry, I have to go.” They finally part when I hustle forward.
But I can’t see her anywhere. She’s not down the hall. Or in the a bathroom. Moving forward, I enter a room as grand as the foyer. More chandeliers and golden sconces decorate the space. Vintage sofas sit arranged around an ornate rug. A long wooden bar sits at the end of the room near the floor to ceiling window. But I don’t see her there either.
My shoulders sink.
I’ve lost her. With as massive as Mac”s home is, she could be anywhere. What would I even say to her? Hey Mom, glad you support my art. Or Hey, were you always just up the hill? Did you abandon us? For this? For better? Was Dad and I not good enough?
“Ember,” Gray’s voice comes from behind me. I jump when his hand comes to my back. “There you are.” Standing in front of me, his eyes wander my face. “Uh, you look like you could use another drink.”
“Or ten,” I reply. My gut feels like a juicer, twisting in on itself. “Cause that buyer? Is my mother.”
Mac
“Mac,I need to talk to you.”
Hannah stands in front of me, hands on her hips. No way is Hannah getting my attention after I just spent an hour with Beau’s Mom. The makeout was a dirty distraction, but after Ember left, fighting her off me was as hard as pretending I was into her.
Knocking back the whiskey in my glass, my eyes dart around the space below the grand staircase. “Have you seen Ember?” I ask.
The fucked up thing? That Valley Girl was on my mind the entire time. Ember’s curves, those thick thighs and lips to match have nothing on Miss Laval. I won’t tell Ember that. It’ll go straight to her head and I need to keep her in check.
“That’s who I need to talk to you about,” Hannah says. “When are you going to stop punishing me with that charity case? Are you actually into her?” Pushing her aside, I give her my empty glass before making my way down the stairs. “Mac!”
Crash!
A commotion comes from the next room as my eyes scan the crowd around us. Moving through the foyer, my pace slows when I pass one of the easels. Ember Everett sits at the bottom of the soul-stirring drawing. What’s her sketchbook doing there?
“Ma’am, can you get down?” A stern voice comes from the drawing room.
“This place is so big!” Ember’s voice comes next, louder than usual. A lightness to it. Weird. “How do you ever find anyone in here?” Is she slurring?
As I move towards her voice, a familiar laugh follows. Gray’s. “I got her.”
My eyes narrow when I enter the room as Gray’s arms wrap around Ember’s legs. He swings her off the bar, the train of her dress flowing behind her. One strap of that dress hangs off her shoulder, her fiery hair wavier than before. Some guests stare, whispering.
I’m quick moving towards the bar. Ember points her finger at the bartender, slurring at him for being a “buzzkill.” She stumbles over her heels, her martini glass spilling over the rim.
“Easy girl,” Gray says, steadying her.
When I get to the bar, I grab her wrist with a hard tug. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Mac, chill.” Gray tries to talk to me like a dog ready to bite. Pushing him back with my free hand, he raises his arms like he’s caught stealing. “It’s not what you think.”
“Ma’am!” The bartender throws his towel down as Ember sticks her tongue out. Like a fucking child. “Security!”
Ignoring Gray, I pull Ember against my chest, bringing my lips to her ear. “Get it the fuck together. You’re embarrassing.” The tension inside me comes out in my voice.
“Fuck you, you asshole!” she spits. Right before the contents of her martini glass end up on my face.
Gray’s laugh doesn’t help the tightness in my jaw, my eyes on the butterfly hanging from Ember’s neck. Tugging it, she stumbles over her heels again but that’s her problem.
Pulling her towards the door for our staff, she pulls back. That only makes her choker tighten. “Real cute, Everett,” I mutter, tugging her through the staff kitchen. It’s different than the marble and polished chrome in the main, even with top-of-the-line equipment. The metal appliances and pots blur, my eyes set on the door as we maneuver around servers and chefs. “I leave you for five minutes and you’ve found Gray’s cock.”
“Don’t you dare throw shade at me when you’re banging Mrs. Robinson.” Ember tugs back, I pull harder.
“I stuck to the plan. You’re being a drunk whore.” Pushing on the back door, the cool night air slaps my heated face. Some staff stare, entertainment for their break time smoke.
“You’re a whore,” she spits as I grab the half-finished cigarette from a staff member. “Did you have fun fucking a dead boy’s mom?” Fuck. Now the staff are really staring.
Flicking the cig to the ground, I pick her up, ignoring the pounding on my back, the squirming on my shoulder. Her body’s as hot as mine, even underneath the fabric of her dress. Each pound only fuels that heat, as frantic as my heartbeat.
The moonlight shines on the pond in the middle of our garden as I round the building, heading to a place no one will look. At least not now.
The closer we get, the louder she gets. “Mac, what are you gonna do?” She pounds on my back harder and harder, each hit rumbling through me. “Mac!” The helipad sits at the far end of the lot, past the line of famous sculptures. Rodin, Michelangelo, Bernini. “Wait, are those real?”
“Shut the fuck up, Ember.” I’ve never heard her like this, my grip tightening around her as Gray’s stupid smile sticks to my brain. I’ll deal with him later.
Once at our chopper, I slide the door open, dumping Ember on one of the leather seats.
“Woah.” Ember’s glossy eyes gaze around the white and beige interior, wood paneling accenting golden buckles. “You own a helicopter?”
With one glance behind to ensure no one’s around, I slide the door closed. “Where’s the phone, Everett?” Sitting in front of her, I stare into those dazed eyes.
She glares back, reaching into her dress by her waist. When she reveals the phone, I grab it out of her hand as she hiccups. “You don’t—hic— have to treat—hic—me like a child.” A hand over her mouth, she giggles.
I’ve never heard her giggle and it makes my face warmer. I want to wrap this seatbelt around her neck and shut her the fuck up. “Don’t act like one.”
It takes her a couple tries to sit forward before those bloodstones burn into mine again. “Hic—You’re just mad—Hic.” She takes a deep breath before trying again. “You’re just mad I was hanging with another Crown. You’re not so special you know.”
“Don’t worry, once I let you go, you can head back to prostituting yourself to the rich.” The phone’s on when I tap the screen, the glass scratched and broken. “From Beau to me to Gray, you really know how to work a town, huh?”
“Did you have all the slutty fun fucking Beau’s mom?” As she moves closer, vodka reeks off her breath.
“Did you have fun fucking my best friend?”
“Jealous.” She crosses her arms, poking at my leg with the tip of her heel.
“Whore.” Pushing her leg away, I bring my attention back to the screen. A picture of a pile of money burning is Beau’s background like he didn’t enjoy what we have in The Hill.
“Fuck you.” She pokes at me again.
“Never.” Staring at the screen, I try tapping some numbers to unlock it.
“You’re so stupid. You’re such a jealous boy. Gray was only helping me look for the person who bought my drawing. And you overreacted. ‘Cause you’re jealous!”
“Why? So you can fuck them too?”
“Ew.” She makes a gagging sound that makes my abs twitch. “I wouldn’t fuck my mom.”
My gaze lifts back to hers. “Who’s your mom?”
“Cara Walsh.”
My head tilts. “Your mom is the General Manager to the Vultures?”
“She’s the what?” Ember blinks, trying to sit up straight.
“How fucked up are you, Everett?”
She reaches her hand out. “My locket. Give it to me.”
Reaching into my pocket I pull out the gold necklace she usually wears. She reaches for it but I open it instead. Then it all makes sense. “Well fuck me, she is your mom.” She grabs the locket before it falls in her lap. When she opens it, she stares, like a little girl who dropped her ice cream. “What happened? You piss her off too?”
She shrugs. “Maybe. She left when I was three. My dad said she’d only be gone a little while and she’d always love me. Wherever she is.” Her brows lower, so do her shoulders. “But he lied.”
“He never told you what really happened?”
“He couldn’t.” She lets out a small laugh. “He died when I was ten. Told me he’d tell me at thirteen. When my uncle took over for him I asked. But he always said he made a promise not to get involved.”
My gaze on her, I try to connect the dots. “So your mom is the General Manager of the Vultures, and you never knew?”
“I didn’t even know she was alive until tonight.” She slumps in her seat.
“So you decide to get drunk in my house? The fuck were you thinking?”
“It started as just a couple with Gray.” Tension comes back to my jaw. “I wanted to work up my nerve to talk to her but I didn’t know what to say. It was like I was a total stranger. I don’t know if she wanted to talk to me or if she recognized me…” She trails off, her eyes blurring.
“Don’t be so dramatic. I get it.”
“I don’t know if you do,” she sniffles between her words, a tear falling from her eye. From hiccups to tears, this girl is as messy as her life. “You were busy accusing me of being a whore because you live your sheltered, privileged fucking life. With girls, and cars, and medals, and everything handed to you?—”
“Sterling isn’t my father.” The words fall out of my mouth. Ones I’ve never told anyone. “Not really anyway. I’m adopted.” She stalls, her brows knitting. “Sterling threatens to kick me out if I don’t help with the family business. To him, I’m disposable. He wants an heir but I have my own goals. To be real, being his son is the worst job I’ve had.” The words linger and I really hope she doesn’t remember this tomorrow. “Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”
“You still get a cool car, a massive house and a goddamn helicopter.” She looks around the cabin. “I get an old trailer, an uncle with a drinking problem and a life below The Hill. I’m not playing the violin for you.” She swipes a tear on her cheek with such fierceness she leaves a scratch. “You won’t ever understand what it’s like coming where I’m from and the shit you and your family stole from us when we already had nothing.” She swipes another tear away. “You’re a fucking monster. Don’t try and sit here and act like our trauma will bond us. I’ll never be like you.”
Slamming Beau’s phone on the leather seat beside me, I lean forward, tugging on that choker. “You are, Everett.” Everything inside me wants to silence those sniffles. “You’re just as foul. And stubborn. And psychotic. Or did you forget ruining my entire fucking life?”
The choker loosens as she moves so close to my face her breath lands on my lips. “You had it coming.”
My eyes move to her mouth. Even with faded red lipstick they look like a ripe apple I want to bruise. And the way that smirk settles on them, tears staining her face, tells me she’s as insane as I know.
“You’re not a butterfly.” Leaning back in my seat, I keep my fingers around the golden choker, pulling her closer. “You’re a moth.”
“Maybe I’m a Monarch. Poisonous.”
“Moth or Monarch, it doesn’t matter.” Her lips hang in front of me, another twitch in my abs. “You’re a fucking problem, Butterfly.”
“What are you gonna do about it?” Those eyes fall to mine and that monster wants to come out. Thing is, I always let it.