CHAPTER TWENTY CLARKE
Chapter Twenty
Clarke
I can still do it. Until that door opens, I still have a chance. I can run back down the path, jump in my car, and make my escape.
But he stood, frozen like the fake icicles hanging from the eaves of the strange house. Strange because it seemed out of place amidst the miles of acres surrounding it. The property was just outside Austin and looked like a modern version of an old manor house one would find in England.
What if she doesn’t remember asking me? It’s possible. She was pretty drunk.
The door swung open.
Clarke wanted to burst out laughing. The man who opened it looked like a butler. Not just in the way he was dressed, but the manner in which he stood and spoke.
“May I help you, sir?”
“I’m a friend of Ceci Rivers.”
That sounded odd even to his own ears. They were hardly friends.
The man stood in place, his hand still on the doorknob, not moving an inch.
“That’s Mr. Rivers’s daughter,” Clarke added. “She invited me.”
He stepped aside.
“Very good, sir. Please come in.”
He followed the man to what looked like the drawing room in a BBC period drama.
The walls were painted a delicate shade of sage and ivory and adorned with gilt-framed paintings of hunting scenes.
On the mantel above the large fireplace sat an ormolu clock.
Above it, a large mirror reflected the brilliance of the crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling.
There were plush chairs and settees upholstered in rich brocades and silks and even a mahogany writing desk, which sat by the tall, mullioned window, framed by heavy damask drapes that were pulled back with tasseled gold cords.
And yes, on the desk sat a quill and inkwell.
The only thing missing was a lady sitting at her embroidery and the soft notes of a pianoforte drifting in from an adjoining music room.
Clarke saw Ceci immediately.
I never have to look for her. She’s always just … there.
She was wearing black leather pants and a black blouse with a deep-cut neckline, exposing that delicate neck, throat, and those luscious curves that made him fist his hands and his heart race.
Not exactly a catsuit. But close enough.
She stood conversing with a group of men.
Unexpectedly, he felt a hand on his arm. He should have flinched, but he didn’t. He understood why when he turned.
Aunt Delilah.
The woman exuded warmth. She was somehow comforting. Strange, given she was so intrusive. It should have made him uncomfortable. But she was so authentic. Like her niece, he thought, glancing over at Ceci.
Maybe not now. Something about her is different now.
Aunt Delilah grinned. “So, Cecilia invited you. I know that because you’re so well-mannered you would never show up at a party without a proper invite. Manners are generally a good thing, but they can sometimes get in the way.”
He frowned. “Get in the way?”
“Yes. Of living. Sometimes even of doing what’s right.
” She reached up, placing her hand on his cheek, peering at his lip.
“It is possible to be too polite, dear. Then again, perhaps my niece’s invitation wouldn’t count as a proper invite, given she wasn’t invited.
” She squeezed his arm. “So perhaps there’s hope for you yet.
I wasn’t invited either. But I figured she would come, given the news. ”
What news?
She pulled him alongside her, and they entered the room.
“Perhaps my presence isn’t needed … now that you’re here.
” A sly smile slid up her cheeks. “I think he’ll like you.
His wife definitely will. That’s her father there.
” She indicated a tall, handsome man talking with the same group of men that Ceci was conversing with.
He had his hands on the shoulders of a little boy standing in front of him.
“And that is Cecilia’s stepbrother. It’s his birthday. ”
Aunt Delilah drew a deep breath. It was followed by a forceful exhale.
“Do you know her father never attended one of Ceci’s birthdays?
Not one. He never even had a birthday gift for her.
Up until the age of eighteen, I always made sure there was a present that supposedly came from him.
His assistant and I were the ones who planned her parties.
I’m not even sure he remembers the date of her birthday.
It should be a day that’s impossible to forget.
But then, maybe that’s why he’s put so much effort into erasing it from his memory.
I thought I was doing the right thing lying to her—letting her believe her father knew what she loved when the birthday themes were so well suited to her.
Telling her he wanted to be there, but there was something important he had to take care of.
But of course, she’s a smart girl. She figured out that meant there was always something more important than her.
She had to know the gifts didn’t come from him when they stopped.
But I suspect she knew long before then.
It’s tough to put one over that girl.” She eyed him. “Do you know what I mean?”
When it came to racing, he did know. All too well. And he was beginning to suspect it was true off the track as well.
“I think that’s when she started paying him back.
Her birthday parties became more … well …
wild … even destructive.” Aunt Delilah grinned.
“The money he had to pay in damages—serves him right. I guess I just always wanted to make up for the fact that she had no family—other than me, of course. It’s too bad about her twin brother. ”
“Cecilia has a twin brother?”
“Had. He died.”
Clarke wondered how. But didn’t feel right asking.
Suddenly he noticed Aunt Delilah had been inching closer to the group and taking him along with her. They were close enough now for Clarke to hear their conversation.
“So,” one of the men said, “Hank, it’s really true then you’re getting together an F2 team.”
“Yep.”
“Thinking maybe about your daughter here,” one of them said, smiling at Ceci. “Of course, that’d be a huge loss for Blue Jet.”
Hardly a beat of silence passed. One might almost wonder if he’d heard the man. His jaw looked like granite and his eyes, which didn’t appear to be looking at anything, were just as hard.
Another one turned to Ceci. “You ever think of going back to driving?”
Ceci shrugged. “If I did make the move, I’m smart enough to know not to race for one of my father’s teams. We both know how well that went in the past. I’m not easy to manage.
Not that an owner should be managing a driver.
” She turned and fixed an icy stare on her father.
This finally caught her father’s attention, and his look was even colder than hers.
“But you would try, wouldn’t you, Pops?” Ceci’s tone was unmistakably snide.
Clarke blinked when Anker suddenly appeared by Ceci’s side.
“Don’t even think of stealing my team principal, Hank. I need her.”
Laughing, Hank reached around the man standing next to him and patted Anker’s shoulder. “That’s not true. You’re a winner, and you’ll win no matter who’s the team principal. I think you’re going to do it again this year.”
Ceci’s eyes were blazing; she looked like she was about to say something, but her father spoke before she got the chance.
“Come over here, Anker,” he said, pulling his son along with him and disengaging from the group. “There’s someone I want you to meet. Someone who wants to meet you.”
Aunt Delilah squeezed Clarke’s arm. “Just because bone china is difficult to break doesn’t mean it can’t break.”
Clarke’s lips parted, but only the hush of his breathing came out.
He turned his gaze back on Ceci, and his mind flashed back to last night.
That voice. I can hear it now.
It not only hurt—it hurt in a way that was all too familiar to him. It was the voice of a girl being broken by the act of a callous man.
But then, Naomi wasn’t nearly as tough as Ceci. Not even close.
He watched as a man sidled up and slipped his arm around her waist. He blinked when he realized who the man was.
What the fuck is he doing here?
His heart began to pound as if it had escaped his rib cage. He felt it throbbing in his throat, in his ears, in his temples, in his hands, which he clenched.
“Well, now this is interesting,” Aunt Delilah said. “I mean, given you’re the one who’s dating her.” She paused. “In theory.”
“Sir Leo Clarke,” a woman crooned, as she placed her hand on his arm. “I’m Tiffany.”
He heard Aunt Delilah groan.
The woman was blonde with lashes that looked like black daggers and lips that resembled that of a blowfish. “How nice of you to come to Timmy’s birthday party. Hank will be so pleased.”
She flashed a diamond ring that swallowed up half her finger.
“I’m Hank’s wife. My son, Timmy—that’s him beside Hank—will be thrilled to meet you. He’s started karting. Loves racing.”
Suddenly he noticed Aunt Delilah’s hand was gone. When he looked over, she was standing with her arms crossed, a hard look in her eyes as she stared back at him, tapping her foot.
“Now what can I get you to drink? I want to hear all about the palace and the king. What a thrill it must have been when you were knighted. So what—”
That’s as far as she got. “Excuse me,” he said, before striding across the room.
Once he was beside Ceci, he glared at Tilney, pulling her away from him.
Her eyes widened.
Is she surprised to see me? Or surprised that I grabbed her?
Maybe both.
He stared at her lips, thinking about that kiss last night.
Should I kiss her now? In front of her father and all these people?
He imagined himself cupping her cheek. He would bend down and place his lips so close that when he whispered, they would graze her ear.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he would say. “Right here. Right now. In front of everyone, including your father. And trust me, he’ll see it.
But if you don’t want me to, push me away.
You can make a scene if you prefer. You can throw me out of the house if you want. ”