The Misfit (Oakmount Elite #5)

27. Salem

TWENTY-SEVEN

salem

“You don’t have to do this,” Noah tells me for the third time since we left the house. He pulls up to the private entrance of The Grand Hotel, where Lee stands waiting under the spaced garden lights. “We could go get ice cream instead. Watch bad movies. There’s no need to subject yourself to this, especially after what he did.”

“Yes, there is. I made a deal.” I smooth my hands over the burgundy silk of my dress. The dress Lee chose with such care, with such attention to my needs. The dress that feels like a beautiful cage. “And I’m keeping my word.” And thanking the heavens I didn’t tell him everything Lee did, or Noah would already be out of the car right now.

Noah’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Even when the other person doesn’t deserve it?”

I don’t answer, can’t answer, because Lee’s approaching the car. He looks devastatingly handsome in his classic tuxedo. His dark hair is styled for once instead of brushed askew with his fingers. His full lips bend up in a smile, and it slams deep into my thundering heart because, for once, he’s sober. Each step is careful and measured, nothing like the chaos of recent weeks.

“I’ll text you when I need a pickup,” I tell Noah, reaching for the door before Lee can open it.

Lee’s faster and beats me to it, appearing at my side with the same grace that first drew me to him. “Salem.” His greeting is soft, careful. “You look beautiful.”

For a moment, everything feels like before. Before the distance, before the walls, before whatever broke between us. Like a true gentleman, he offers me his hand, and I take it automatically.

“The dress is perfect,” he says as I step out. “Just like I knew it would be.”

Hope flutters in my chest, unwanted and dangerous. I want to extinguish those feelings, set them on fire, and watch them burn. Why does he have to look so steady, present, normal? Like the Lee who used to make everything make sense.

It isn’t real. It’s just another mask he wears. Another layer.

I can’t trust the image painted before me. Can’t trust him or myself when I’m around him. Still, armed with that knowledge, when he guides me toward the entrance, his hand warm at my back, I let myself pretend. Just for a moment. Just for tonight.

Even if I know it will hurt like hell tomorrow.

The Grand Hotel’s ballroom sparkles with crystal and candlelight, but Lee guides me to a quieter alcove first. “I had them set up a space for you,” he says, gesturing to a small table with sealed water bottles and fresh hand sanitizer. “Somewhere you can retreat if it gets overwhelming.”

The thoughtfulness of it hits hard. At the same time, the memory of how we used our last quiet space surges up, making my face hot. This is the Lee I know—the one who anticipates my needs, creates safe spaces, and remembers every little detail that matters to me.

“Thank you,” I manage, hating how my voice quavers slightly.

“And look.” He points at the nearest exit, partially hidden behind elegant drapery. “Quick escape route, just in case. Twenty steps to fresh air.”

He remembers how I need to know my exits. Remembers how crowds can suddenly become too much. Remembers me.

“You didn’t have to do all this.” I twist my hands together, silk sliding against silk.

“Yes, I did.” His voice carries that intensity I’ve missed. He reaches for me, then stops himself. “Salem?—”

“Lee!” Emma’s voice cuts through whatever he was about to say. “Mother’s looking for you both!”

Something flickers across his face—frustration? Regret? But when he turns to his sister, his smile is perfect. Practiced. “We’re coming.”

He offers me his arm. “Ready?”

I take it graciously because this is what we agreed to. This is the final act.

The ballroom has filled while we lingered in our quiet corner. Faces turn as we enter—some curious, some judgmental, some carefully blank. Lee’s presence beside me makes it manageable. His steady warmth keeps me grounded as we navigate the crowd.

“Drink?” he asks softly, leading me toward the bar. “They have those sealed waters you like. Or we can go with something stronger if you prefer.”

“Water is fine.”

He signals the bartender, who produces a sealed bottle immediately. Lee checks the seal himself before handing it to me, and my heart clenches at the familiar gesture.

This version of Lee—attentive, careful, sober—makes it hard to remember why I’ve kept my distance. And even harder to remember the hurt and confusion of the recent weeks.

“Better?” he asks as I take a sip.

I nod, unable to trust my voice or the words that might spill out. There’s no way to tell him that everything is better with him beside me. That the world makes more sense when he’s present. That anything is possible when he looks at me like I matter.

Stop. I can’t let myself believe in possibilities anymore.

Lee stays close as more guests arrive, his body angled in a way that shields me from the crowd. It’s so familiar—this dance we do, the way he creates space around me without making it obvious. The way he smoothly intercepts anyone who might get too close. The way he makes everything manageable.

“You’re doing great,” he murmurs after we survive another round of introductions. His hand rests lightly on my back, warm through silk. “We’ve got a few more official greetings, then we can find a quieter spot.”

Maybe Noah is right. I shouldn’t have come. Especially now that I’m here and I’m finding that I hate myself a little more with each second that passes. Why did it have to be this way? I wish his touch didn’t calm me, that it didn’t feel like we were a perfect fit for each other, and more than that, I wish I didn’t miss this version of him so much.

Katherine appears, Charlotte in tow, both women gleaming with society perfection. I’m certain their appearance will drag Lee away, but he remains at my side. He doesn’t so much as glance in Charlotte’s direction. The warmth of his hand bleeds through the fabric of my dress, the touch burning into my flesh.

Lee grounds me, keeping me sane in the crowd. But the longer we’re here, I find it’s not as bad as last time. Not completely manageable, but definitely not as bad.

“Salem, darling,” Katherine greets, her voice dripping honey-coated poison. “That dress is surprisingly appropriate. Lee must have had excellent guidance in choosing it.”

“I chose it myself, Mother,” Lee cuts in smoothly. “I know exactly what suits Salem.”

The possessive edge that his voice carries makes my heart flutter. We’re walking a dangerous tightrope. Balancing on the edge of real and fake.

“How attentive of you.” Katherine’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Charlotte, dear, didn’t you say you needed Lee’s opinion on something?”

It’s a ploy, and one that Lee doesn’t take. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Salem and I were heading up to the terrace for some air.”

“Oh, okay … well, hurry along. The speeches will start soon.”

Without giving them a backward glance, he guides me toward the stairs. Each step is precise and unhurried. Everything about him tonight speaks of control, of presence, of careful attention to my needs.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say once we’re safely away from his mother’s sharp gaze. “I can handle her.”

“I know you can.” He turns to face me, and for a moment, I see something raw in his eyes. “You can handle anything. I just … I don’t want you to have to. Not tonight.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tight. Because this is my Lee—the one who sees me, who understands me, who makes everything make sense.

But I can’t trust it.

Can’t trust him.

Can’t trust my own heart around him.

Even if every careful gesture, every protective movement, every gentle word makes me want to.

His eyes scan the crowd below, then he stops, going still. “Oh shit, I need to check something with Emma,“ Lee says, his hand sliding reluctantly from my back. “Will you be okay for a few minutes?” His eyes slide into the crowd like he’s looking for someone. Maybe his sister? Then back to me. What did he forget?

I manage a nod, hating how much I already miss his steady presence. “Of course. I’m fine.”

He studies me for a moment, like he’s memorizing my face. “I won’t be long. Stay up here where you’ll be safe from the gawkers.”

The request sounds so much like caring, like protection, like everything I’ve been missing. I want to believe in it. Want to trust this version of him that’s been so perfect tonight.

“Go.” I wave him off, forcing a smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He disappears into the crowd with that natural grace of his, and I lean against a marble column, letting myself breathe. The night hasn’t been nearly as terrible as I feared. Lee’s attention, his careful consideration, his obvious effort to make things right—it all feels like maybe, just maybe …

“Oh, I never thought he’d give you a moment to breathe,” Katherine says, coming up the stairs toward me. “How fortunate for me. Please join me for a drink. I want to chat, girl to girl.”

I sigh. “If you want to warn me away from Lee again …”

She waves her perfectly manicured hand. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

She steps up beside me and hovers her hand behind my back to guide me, but not touching at least. If only to keep the peace, I follow.

We only go a few feet down to another area, giving us a better view. “Quite the turnout,” she says proudly. “Emma is pleased.”

“I’m sure.”

“So many old family friends showed up. And look, there are a couple now, talking to Lee.”

Whatever platitude I’d lined up dies in my throat as I spot him across the room.

He’s not with Emma.

Instead, he’s speaking to two men I recognize instantly. The same ones who cornered me that day at the library. The ones who made me feel so unsafe, so threatened, that Lee’s offer of protection seemed like salvation.

It wasn’t salvation, though … was it? I watch them interact—the easy familiarity, the way Lee checks to ensure no one’s watching. The world crumbles beneath my feet. The pieces click together with devastating clarity.

The perfectly timed harassment.

The convenient offer of protection.

The careful manipulation of my fears.

My knees weaken, but I force myself to stay upright. Force myself to keep watching as one of the men laughs at something Lee says. Force myself to accept that everything—from those first threatening encounters to this very moment—was calculated.

I was never anything but a means to an end.

A solution to his family problems.

A puppet in his performance.

The crystal champagne flutes on nearby tables catch the light, throwing prisms across the marble floor. They blur as tears threaten, but I blink them back. I won’t give him, or anyone else, the satisfaction of seeing me break. Especially not Katherine, standing here so pleased with herself.

I raise my chin as I meet her shrewd gaze. “You knew?”

She shrugs slightly. “Only today, when the private investigator I pay to keep an eye on Lee showed me his recent photos.” There’s no bite in her tone. She doesn’t need to hurt me further, not when she’s already won. And she knows that.

I nod.

I made a deal. I gave my word. I’ll see this through—and then I’ll walk away.

From him. From this. From everything I was stupid enough to believe was real.

Even if it kills me.

Even if part of me still wants to believe in tonight’s perfect performance.

Even if my heart breaks with each new understanding of just how played I was.

The party swirls around me, beautiful and terrible, while I stand frozen, watching the death of every hope I’d foolishly allowed myself to harbor.

Just a few more hours.

Just this one last night.

Just one final performance.

Then I never have to see Lee Sterling again.

The weight of manipulation settles around my shoulders like a shawl made of broken promises. Every moment, every touch, every careful consideration tonight takes on new meaning. He wasn’t being attentive because he cared—he was maintaining his investment. Making sure his plan played out until the end.

My silk gloves feel too tight suddenly, too constraining. But I can’t change them, can’t show weakness, can’t let anyone see how completely this revelation has shattered me. Instead, I force myself to stand straighter. To smile at passing guests. To play my part in this elaborate charade.

Katherine slips back down the stairs into the crowd to find another soul to shred. The ballroom suddenly feels too small, too bright, too much. The urge to run is so strong I nearly give in. No. I won’t run or hide. You’re stronger than this. I won’t let them see how deeply this cuts me. Because that’s what they want, isn’t it? To prove I’m unsuitable. Unstable. Unworthy.

Lee returns to my side as if nothing has happened, his hand finding its place at my back like he has any right to touch me. “Sorry that took so long. Emma needed?—”

“Don’t.” The word comes out barely a whisper, but he hears it. His hand stills against my spine.

“Salem?”

“Just …” I step away from his touch, maintaining my smile for any watching eyes. “Don’t pretend anymore. Not tonight. Not anymore.”

Something flickers across his face—confusion? Concern? More perfect acting?

“I don’t understand.”

“I saw you.” My voice stays steady through sheer will. “With them. The ones who scared me into accepting your offer. Nice touch, by the way. Very effectively orchestrated.”

His face pales, and I watch as the fear trickles into his gray eyes. “Salem, let me explain?—”

“No need. I think I’ve seen all I need to see.” I turn to face him fully, letting him see exactly what he’s done. “I made a deal. I’ll see it through. Just … don’t touch me again. Don’t pretend to care. Don’t act like any of this was ever real.”

The orchestra starts another waltz, the music sweeping through the ballroom like waves trying to drown me. But I won’t drown. Won’t break. Won’t give any of them the satisfaction.

I am not their puppet anymore.

“May I cut in?” Aries appears like smoke, materializing between Lee and me with practiced grace. Without waiting for an answer, he takes my hand, leading me into the dance before I can protest.

“You’re holding up remarkably well,” he says as we join the other couples. “Most people would have run by now.”

“I’m not most people.” My voice comes out stronger than I feel.

His smile is oddly familiar, like a half-remembered dream. “No, you’re not. That’s what makes this all so interesting. The girl who counts tiles and wears gloves, standing her ground at a society party after having her heart broken.”

“You don’t know anything about my heart.”

“Don’t I?” His hand tightens slightly at my waist. “I know about Chelsea. About that night. About why you really started counting things.”

The name doesn’t hit like it usually does. Doesn’t send me spiraling into panic and patterns. Maybe I’m too numb from Lee’s betrayal, or maybe some wounds do eventually heal.

“Katherine knows, too,” he continues, watching my face carefully. “She’s prepared to use your biggest fears against you.”

A laugh escapes me, surprising us both. “She already did. And it worked, just like she knew it would. In the end, she gets what she wants—her perfect son free to marry someone suitable .”

Something flashes in his eyes—surprise? Disappointment? Like this isn’t the reaction he expected.

“Just like that?” he asks, spinning me smoothly through a turn. “You’re walking away?”

“Just like that. You might be willing to play games with these people, but I’m not. I won’t gamble with my own heart. The cost is too steep.”

We dance in silence for a moment, and I study his face. There’s something about him, something I can’t quite place. Like a word on the tip of my tongue, a memory just out of reach.

White walls.

Paper slippers.

Group therapy circles.

The memory slips away before I can grasp it, leaving only a vague sense of recognition and unease.

“You’re stronger than they think you are,” he says finally, his voice carrying an edge I don’t understand. “Than anyone thinks you are.”

“Maybe.” I meet his gaze steadily. “Or maybe I’m just tired of being everyone’s puppet. Of being manipulated and managed and measured against standards I’ll never meet.”

His smile shifts into something almost genuine. Almost familiar. Almost known.

“Careful, Salem,” he murmurs as the dance ends. “You’re starting to sound like someone who doesn’t need to count tiles anymore.”

He releases me with a formal bow, leaving me to stand alone in the middle of the dance floor with more questions than answers.

And for the first time since Chelsea, since counting became survival, since gloves became armor …

I wonder if maybe he’s right. I search the room for Lee. I need to figure out how much longer I have to stay here, how much longer I have to pretend.

Dr. Martinez’s voice fills my ears.

“People have to want to change, Salem. You can’t make them. It might feel selfish, but sometimes you have to walk away and protect yourself. In life, you have to be capable of loving yourself before you can love someone else.”

As heartbreaking as it is, she’s right. Lee will never be able to love me unless he loves himself first.