Chapter Three
Lila
It felt so good to be home.
Feeling myself relax for the first time since I’d left New Hampshire, I leaned my head against the back-passenger seat of the SUV and closed my eyes.
Sunlight streamed into the car, bathing my face.
As we made our way home from the airport, my parents made small talk that I answered with the usual “Yes” and “No” answers that led them to believe I was engaged in the conversation.
Instead, my thoughts wandered back to the reality I’d left behind in New England.
The first semester at Hempstead Boarding School and Day Academy hadn’t gone well.
No, that was an understatement. It had been a disaster, and I knew it. Worse, my parents knew it too.
I didn’t have any grade above a B-minus, and three were Cs.
All unacceptable. My mom and dad had such high expectations for my academic achievement, and as the only child they had after a long struggle with fertility treatments, both had no problem making their expectations known since kindergarten.
Attending Hempstead would inevitably lead to an Ivy League university, then to a career for a few years, and soon after that to a man who’d meet my parents’ vision of the perfect husband, a scion from one of the East Coast’s finest families.
I couldn’t screw up my education just as it began.
But if my parents were disappointed in me, neither one had mentioned it. Yet.
Instead, they greeted me at Palm Beach International Airport with big smiles and a homemade sign, followed up with huge hugs that drew way more attention to me than I wanted.
And now, as Dad pulled the car into the brick driveway in front of our home, every staffer who worked on our property stood at attention, waiting.
I saw Nicholas, the gardener, Oliver, his assistant, Delilah, our housekeeper, Martin, the house manager, and…
“The three young men standing next to Martin are the three finalists for our scholarship this year,” Dad explained, throwing his Mercedes G-Wagon SUV into park, and turning off the engine.
“The foundation decided to do something different this year,” Mom added.
She craned her head in my direction and I saw a glimmer of satisfaction her eye.
This, like many things, had probably been her idea.
“We are not only offering four years of college to Florida State, but our three highest applicants have been offered some work experience with our family. This will help us decide the eventual scholarship winner.”
“You’ll be seeing them around during the break,” Dad said. “They’ve already been working here a few weeks. Please be as welcoming as possible.”
“They really do need help.” The corners of Mom’s mouth turned down.
She’d started an extensive Botox regimen to stay younger looking, and her cheek muscles now froze in so many places that an expression like this made her resemble a clown.
“Two of the boys are in foster care at the moment, and one has a father in jail.”
“Don’t bring that up, Lila. It would only embarrass them.” Dad opened the car door and turned to face me. “And once you’re settled, I want you to meet me in my office so we can discuss what’s going on with you at school.”
I gulped and decided to stall. This was the last thing that I wanted to talk about with him. Talking about it made my failures real, taking them beyond the realm of what I could control. “Meaning?”
Mom sighed. “I’m surprised that you haven’t been upfront with us, Lila. You know this is important. We expect you to take school seriously.”
“But I do.”
She grimaced. “Clearly not seriously enough.”
“You don’t understand,” I protested. “It’s different up there, and the classes—”
“Not now.” Dad’s voice turned sharper, full of warning. “Later.”
I pursed my lips. I knew that tone, and it only had one reply. “Yes, sir.”
As my heart pounded in my ears from stress and dread, I followed my parents out of the SUV and toward the house.
I hung back a little, embarrassed at the expectant and excited looks the staff gave me as I approached.
Just before Labor Day, I’d left Palm Beach with a halo of perfection, having been one of the best students in my class at Palm Beach Country Day.
Growing up, Nicholas, Martin, Delilah, and Oliver had all doted on me, and they each told me they wanted so much for me to succeed.
Hempstead was supposed to be the first segment on a long road of furthering my family’s illustrious reputation.
Now, here I stood, not as a total failure, but mediocre. And being a Montague never allowed for mediocrity.
“We’re so happy to see you, sweetheart.” Delilah folded me into her chubby arms. Martin, Nicholas, and Oliver crowded us too, not hiding how much they were also pleased to have me back for the holiday break.
Delilah said she’d made her famous apple crumb cake; Martin and Oliver told me they’d focused on making sure the all the Christmas decorations were just the way I liked, right down to the gold brocade ribbon they’d tied on all the railings around the house.
During moments like this I knew how lucky I really was—despite all my recent setbacks.
We didn’t lord our wealth and position over our staff, never had, and this in many ways felt like a family reunion.
And I realized you never really understood how much you missed your home until you had time away from it.
You didn’t know how much you were loved either.
Even if the most love I felt came from people paid to be around me.
“Can’t wait to try the cake,” I told Delilah, which garnered a raised eyebrow from my mother. Whatever pieces I ate would have to be done in secret, because according to her, holiday cakes and cookies were strictly for the eyes, and never the stomach. “Really, it’s so nice to be home.”
And it was, it really was. From here, I had almost six weeks of nothing—no textbooks, no exams, no mandatory homework, or group projects.
I just wanted a lot of time at the pool, and as much sleep as my parents would allow.
The transition from endless summer in Florida to the freezing crispness of a New Hampshire autumn had shocked me more than I’d let on to my parents.
And already being back in this…warmth, felt like it was doing more than simply warming my body. It was also warming my soul.
“Let me introduce you to the scholarship finalists, honey.” Dad guided me to the three teenage boys in the driveway, who hadn’t moved from their places near where the grass met the washed bricks.
Two wore what looked like business attire, and one had on a blue polo shirt that matched the rest of our household staff.
I knew from my parents’ previous comments that they all were around seventeen, and seniors in high school.
“This is Peter. He’s doing some clerical work for me at the office for the next few months.”
I shook Peter’s calloused hand and made sure to greet him warmly, just as my Dad had instructed in the car.
Later, I hardly remembered what he looked like.
The introduction with Zack went much the same way, and finally, it was time to meet the last boy in the row, the one in the light blue polo shirt who matched Martin, Nicholas, and Oliver.
“I’m Lila,” I said with a smile on my face. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Good to meet you too.” He shook my hand and I noticed his didn’t have as many callouses as the other staffers. “I’m Adam. Adam Greene.”
Adam had a strong voice, thick brown hair, a locked jaw, and blue eyes that seemed to read my soul. As our hands clasped, he squeezed once, as if he wanted to say hello in a private way, a way only I would be aware of in that moment. He didn’t take his eyes off me.
And later, I realized a certain truth about the whole thing. He was the only boy—ever—who had really bothered to look at me, the only one who had really bothered to see me.
Lila
PRESENT DAY
“Rose? Rose, did you hear me?”
“Hmm?” I blinked at Truman Frost, a Wall Street hedge-fund manager I’d formally met about fifteen minutes earlier.
Shirtless, he sat on the bed across from me.
His pot belly spilled across his trouser waistband, and endless threads of thick black hair tangled across his chest. “What did you say? I’m sorry. ”
“Are you distracted?”
“No.” I shifted on the bed, hoping my new position showed my breasts in a better light. Even though Truman wouldn’t see them that night, he still deserved a tease of them for all the money he’d spent to book my services. “I’m right here, baby.”
What a lie. I wasn’t in the room at all—my body was, but my thoughts were not.
Those remained in the lobby three floors down, still with Adam Greene.
Adam Greene, from the not-so-good side of Boca Raton.
Adam Greene, who’d spent one consequential winter break as the pool boy at my parents’ mansion. Adam Green, who…
Don’t think about that right now.
“Take off your shoes.” Truman pointed at my black high heels, which I’d worn at his request. His gruff voice brought me back into the room. “Now.”
I slipped them off my feet, revealing red polish on my toenails.
Those had been painted to his liking too.
In fact, all I’d worn that night, from the faux-mink coat to the black dress, to a creamy nude bodysuit, had been done with him in mind.
And everything but the lingerie already lay on the floor beside the bed.