Chapter Ten
Adam
Martin met me at my locker in the garage a few moments after I arrived for my shift, hands shoved in his pockets, a small frown across his face, no usual smile. I shut the door as he approached, aware before he got close to me that something was wrong.
“Mr. Montague needs to see you.”
“I was just about to get the pool chemicals ready for the treatment today.”
Martin shook his head. “Now. It’s important.”
I shut the locker door. “Did he give you any idea what it’s about?”
Martin shook his head and kept his expression unreadable. “Just head there now, all right?”
I agreed and followed Martin’s orders, walking to the backyard, then through the pool entrance into the house.
Despite working there for several weeks, I rarely went inside the home, and the elegance of the artwork on the walls, the sculptures on the tables, and the arrangement of the furniture amazed me as I moved down the long hallway from the pool, passing the living room, then dining room, then a half-bath, the library, and the conservatory.
Along the way, I searched for Lila, but I didn’t see her.
Mr. Montague’s office lay at the end of the hall. I knocked twice, and he called for me to come inside.
“Good to see you, Mr. Montague,” I said, careful to keep my greeting pleasant and upbeat. He hadn’t spoken to me much, and it felt like every interaction counted toward the scholarship I wanted—that I needed.
“Have a seat, Adam.”
He didn’t look up from his desktop as I took a seat in one of the two hardback chairs placed in front.
Unlike the rest of the house, this room felt more clinical and colder, with a mountain of paperwork on the console table behind the desk.
I wondered what he did here, what was so important he had to have an additional office, besides the one I knew he had at his real estate company.
The foster homes I lived in never had home offices.
“I’m really enjoying working here,” I said as he still clicked around on his desktop. It seemed like the right way to begin the conversation.
“Is that so?” He finally looked at me. “I was thinking earlier about how long you’ve worked here. It’s only been a little over a month.”
“A good one. And five weeks, exactly.”
Mr. Montague raised his eyebrows. “You certainly seem to have enjoyed yourself.”
The comment stung, and it was meant to do so. I heard venom in his voice, coming through loud and clear. “Well…sir…I—”
Lila’s father folded his arms and settled deeper into his chair. “How did you like working the holiday party, Adam?”
“I enjoyed it. I’ve never worked catering before. I think I learned a lot.”
He grunted. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”
Growing more nervous, I shifted my weight a few times in the chair. I believed I was the frontrunner for the scholarship. I’d shown up to work on time every day. I’d done everything that had been asked of me with precision. Everything except—
“Is everything okay?” I asked, a thread of fear wrapping around my lungs.
“I know you’ve been working very hard on all of the things we’ve tasked you with doing. You’re been a very good employee. But I have to tell you—I know.”
I swallowed, my mouth running dry. I already knew the answer to my next question, but I asked it anyway. “Know what?”
“You enjoyed my library the other night, didn’t you?” He grimaced. “In fact, it seemed like you enjoyed my daughter as well.”
Shocked, I widened my eyes. So, he did know. Oh, shit. “No, sir—what—”
Mr. Montague picked up a TV remote and flipped on the small television on the side table next to the desk. He narrowed his eyes as he pressed play. “Perhaps this will jog your memory.”
The screen showed a grainy security camera shot of the Montague’s library. My stomach clenched and blood rushed to my ears.
“Mr. Montague, I—”
He held up a finger. “Not yet.”
The video played, and we watched a silent version of my kiss with Lila at the Christmas party. It was distant, cold, black and white, and so much quicker than I remembered. When the clip ended, he turned to me.
“What did you see on the screen, Adam?”
I gulped, my tongue thick and salty in my mouth. “I’m not sure.”
He folded his arms as he bit back an unmistakable sneer. “What I see is a very serious case of sexual assault.”
My eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Yes.” He turned off his TV. “I’ve watched this video a few times.
So has my attorney, and we agree it clearly shows you as the aggressor, Adam.
It shows you grabbing my fifteen-year-old daughter and forcing yourself on her.
She does nothing in this video that indicates she’s interested in you in any way, and yet you still took what you wanted. ”
“No, no, that’s not what it is—”
“That’s exactly what it is.”
“Mr. Montague, please. I know I crossed a boundary, but I didn’t hurt your daughter. I would never hurt her.”
“Well, you did. It came to my attention last night.” He stood, braced both hands on his desk and leaned down until he towered over me. “And as far as I’m concerned, that’s all I need to know about it. I won’t stand for someone assaulting my daughter in my own home. Leave, and don’t come back.”
“I don’t understand.” I stared at him, struggling to comprehend what had just happened in the last ninety seconds.
Sexual assault? That’s not what happened between Lila and me, not after all the origami boats and the stolen looks, and our day together on Peanut Island.
I thought we’d both been on the same page after that day.
“I didn’t assault Lila, sir. We have feelings for each other. ”
“She’s a child. She doesn’t know what she feels.”
“Sir, I care about your daughter—”
“She doesn’t care about you. I asked her last night about this incident, and she confirmed you kissed her without her consent. You took advantage of her, Adam, and you’re not going to get away with it.”
“I didn’t take—”
“This conversation is over. Get out of my house.”
Mr. Montague punched a button on his desk, and the door to his office opened as if on cue. Martin stood on the other side with downcast eyes and an ashen expression that told me he’d known what would happen the moment I stepped into the room.
“Martin will show you out,” Lila’s father added.
I glanced from Mr. Montague to Martin and back again as the first wave of real shock pulsed through me.
In the flicker of one afternoon, my entire life had changed.
I’d lost the job I needed, and the best chance I had to get the money to pay for college.
Without this scholarship, I had no other way to finance the enormous cost of going to the University of Florida—I had about a thousand bucks to my name and no one at home who would help me get loans or credit.
In the space of one breath, college had become a “would never.” Shit, how I hated that people like the Montagues would always rule over the nobodies like me.
How screwed up.
“You have to understand something,” Martin said when we arrived at my car.
He’d barely said two words to me since Mr. Montague’s dismissal.
“There’s a divide between us and them.” He gestured backward, toward the house, and I knew he referred to the Montagues in general.
“People like the Montagues—the rich—they have to bring us to them. They must elevate us. We’re around them at their…
at their largesse. When you breach unspoken rules, when you take something that isn’t yours, they’ll never let you forget it. ”
“I didn’t take anything.”
“Didn’t you?”
I frowned. “You mean Lila? She isn’t a painting or a piece of china. She’s her own person.”
“Don’t tell her father that.” He cocked his head.
“I know you aren’t listening to me. You aren’t processing what I’m saying.
But when you have a clearer head, think about this.
What this all means for you.” Martin clapped a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re a smart kid, Adam. You could have a good future ahead.
But girls like Lila, they aren’t for someone like you.
They never will be—not in this lifetime.
You’d have to make a billion dollars to get a chance with someone like her, and that’s about as likely as you going to the moon. ”
With those words, Martin ushered me into my car, and gave me a small wave as I backed out of the driveway. No more college scholarship. No more University of Florida.
And even worse, I’d lost the one person who’d ever really looked at me, the one person who’d ever bothered to treat me as more than a penniless foster kid. But I’d been epically wrong about Lila anyway.
I’d never truly had her.