Chapter 36 #2
Within ten minutes of entering the library, we’re already slipping back out.
Pierce did not, in fact, fuck me hard enough for the entire house full of people to hear me, but that had more to do with my determination to stay quiet, not how hard he was slamming into me.
If we had been alone— Well, let’s just say my voice might be a bit raspy right now.
The hallway is still deserted, so we make our way back to the front of the house, where we hopefully have not been missed. More guests have arrived since we snuck away, and the front hall is teeming with luggage, floral sundresses, and boat shoes.
“God, I’ve never seen so much seersucker,” Pierce says behind me from our vantage point in the corridor.
“It’s like Tory Burch threw up in here,” I add.
“They’ll be six drinks deep within the hour, don’t worry.” My sister Vivienne shoots us a bored look as she brushes past us.
I frown, wondering how much she gathered from how close Pierce and I are standing to each other. I can’t put more distance between us without stepping out of the dim recesses of the hallway, and right now, that seems worse than staying here. Especially with Pierce’s warm strength at my back.
Scanning the room for our friends so we can start our own drinking spree, my eyes land on the last person in the world I expected to be here this weekend. Pierce must see him at the same time I do, because I feel him tense up behind me.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” he says quietly.
We both watch as Preston greets several people with a wide smile, shaking hands and clapping them on the back, ever the diplomat.
“I have no idea,” I reply, and it’s the truth. If I’d known my mother was planning to invite him, I would have done everything in my power to prevent it. Not because I don’t want to see him, but because this is a disaster waiting to happen.
“Don’t lie to me.” Pierce’s voice is a low rumble in my ear. “You helped plan this party.”
I turn to gape at him. “Exactly what are you insinuating?”
His eyes have taken on an disinterested look, as if everything about me suddenly bores him. “You expect me to believe this was nothing but a coincidence?”
“You know what?” I say, glaring up at him. “You’re right. I wanted to keep my options open this weekend.”
He studies me for a few seconds through narrowed eyes. “Yeah? Well, maybe I will too.”
“Fuck you,” I bite out, hating him more right now than I thought possible after the last few months.
“You just did,” he growls, and yanks me flush against him.
“Get your hands off me.” I slap my palms uselessly against his chest.
He doesn’t release me, only leans in until his lips are hovering right above my ear, his scent making my nose tickle with the need to drink him in. “You say that, but you don’t mean it.”
I force myself to breathe through my mouth, so as not to add his addictive scent to the list of things I’m fighting against here. “You don’t know the first thing about what I mean.”
His lips trace the shell of my ear as he says, “Need I remind you that I am intimately acquainted with your sounds? I know which whimper means ‘yes, just like that’ and which one means ‘a little to the left, baby.’”
A shiver runs through me.
“There’s very little of your body that hasn’t been in my mouth at one point or another, so yeah, I think I can claim to know what you mean. But if you think you can do better than me, go ahead and try.” He releases me so suddenly, I stumble backward.
I hold up a warning finger. “Don’t you dare patronize me.”
“Hey, what’s going on?” I glance over to find Heath and Walker watching us, concern etched on their faces.
“Maeve’s off her meds.” Pierce winces and throws me a look that has me balling my hands into fists at my sides. “Looks like it will be a long weekend.”
“I’ll show you ‘long weekend.’” I lunge for him, but Heath grabs me before I can swing my fist into Pierce’s face.
“You’re attracting attention,” Heath whispers before letting me go.
One look down the hall proves he’s right. More than a few curious glances are being thrown our way.
Pierce is biting back a shit-eating grin, and I’ve never wanted to gouge the eyes out of someone more. I flip him off as I stalk past Walker, who appears unprepared for two of her best friends wanting to kill each other.
I find my mother in the front hall, perfect hostess smile in place, although I have no doubt that internally she’s solving no less than three crises that have arisen in the past half hour.
“There you are,” she says, placing a hand on my arm as though we’re an affectionate family. “Can you show the Hamiltons to their suite?”
I frown at her. “Don’t we have staff for that?”
She gives me a glare sandwiched between faux amusement and adoration—the glare’s for me, the other two are for the Hamiltons. “They’re all busy at the moment.”
“I actually need to talk to you,” I say, ignoring the couple and motioning for my mother to come with me. The Hamiltons can wait five seconds until one of the busboys can grab their luggage.
Surprisingly, she follows me, but her lips are squashed into a line so flat, I have no doubt she intends to use the opportunity to berate me for my lack of obedience.
Now probably isn’t a good time to remind her that I’m twenty-six years old and no longer need to march to her commands like an infantry soldier.
“Did you invite the Ansleys?” I say once we’re away from listening ears. “I didn’t see them on the guest list.” There’s no way I would have overlooked the name.
She blinks at me in surprise, probably shocked to hear I was paying attention to her little party. “I did, but it was a last-minute thing. The Diedlots canceled, and I didn’t want empty chairs at dinner.”
“Of course not.” I shudder. “The abhorrence.”
“Mock me all you want, Maeve Allegra,” she warns, “but someday you’ll be in my shoes, and then you’ll understand the importance of a nicely balanced table. Of course, you’ll need to find a man first—”
“Please, Mother.” Holding up my hand, I add, “I already have your speech memorized. Save us both the time.” I turn away and head for the hall that leads outside. Right now, I’d kill for some fresh air.
The gardens at Belgrave Park are a work of art, as any belonging to a large house should be.
Perfectly trimmed hedges, cascading blossoms in all shapes and colors, gleaming stone walks leading to worlds unknown.
I fill my lungs with the warm summer air and let Pierce, my mum, and the chaos awaiting us this weekend melt away.
“Maeve?”
I open my eyes and spin around. I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone.
Preston is leaning against the side of the house near the French doors, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He’s wearing tan trousers and a crisp white shirt that sets off his dark hair. “What are you doing out here?” he asks.
Checking to make sure no one can see us from inside, I move toward him. “I could ask you the same thing.”
He holds up the cigarette, one side of his mouth pulling up in that lopsided smile I love.
“Not out here.” I gesture around at the garden. “At the house party.”
“Ahh.” He nods and tucks the cigarette back into his pocket. He hasn’t smoked in years, but he told me just holding it brings him a sense of relief. “Your mother invited us?” It sounds like a question, and his passiveness about it only furthers my irritation.
“Why didn’t you decline?” I hiss, taking another step closer. He should have known better than to accept. This is playing with fire.
He shakes his head and looks off into the distance, as though the clouds might hold the answer. “Janie was the one who accepted. By the time she mentioned it to me, she’d already spoken to your mum.”
I press my fingers to my temples, a migraine building deep within my skull.
“Are you—” He touches my forearm, and his fingers feel warm, almost clammy. “Are you upset?”
“No, I’m not upset,” I snap. “I’m freaking out.”
“Why?” Deep frown lines are etched across his forehead.
“Because, Preston,” I say, swinging my arms around. “You’re here with your wife and your mistress. Don’t you see any cause for concern in that picture?”
He stares at me for a few beats before answering. “Not really, no.”
“Unbelievable,” I mutter.
“Hey.” Reaching for me, he tugs me into his arms. “I’m just thrilled I get to see you for an entire weekend.”
“It’s not like we can be together.” My words are muffled by the starchy fabric of his shirt.
“Who knows?” he says. “Maybe we’ll find the perfect opportunity. I miss you.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I mumble, but there isn’t an ounce of hope in my heart, just a giant vat of anxiety.