32. You Lied to Me
CHAPTER 32
YOU LIED TO ME
Paloma
The black sedan rolls to a stop on the street several houses down from my family’s East Hampton beach house. I’m not surprised Dad chose to spend time here after he lost our Bedford home. Growing up, I spent every weekend here each summer. Dad’s favorite time to enjoy the beach was during the off-season. He loved it when the town was quiet and tourist-free.
What’s odd is that he would agree to throw a party this size. Limousines line the entire street while valet drivers greet guests clad in black tie attire. I’m still wearing the cashmere sweater and jeans from earlier today. Would they stop me from entering my own home dressed like this?
I check Freya’s phone again. I was hoping I would get to talk to Dad before getting here. When I left Bedford, I called him and left a voice mail. Sole, our housekeeper, was the one who told me where to find him tonight. But that was two and a half hours ago. And of course, she didn’t mention he was entertaining at our home, which is probably why he hasn’t returned my call.
He was recently at the hospital. How is he in good enough shape already to be hosting a big party? I rub my temples, trying to decide what to do. I could go home and come back with Archer in the morning. No, I can’t do that. My conversation with Dad can’t wait. And I’d rather meet with him alone. Not just because I don’t want Archer to confirm that Dad flat out lied to me, but because this situation with Mom is private. A part of me wants to believe that Dad had a good reason to hide Mom’s true identity.
That’s assuming Freya is telling the truth. I grip the steering wheel tight. I let my head fall on my knuckles as tears stream down my cheeks. My options are so fucked up. I’m either Archer’s half-sibling or my father has been lying to me all my life. And if he could lie so easily and for so long, what else is he capable of?
The thought lingers at the forefront of my mind, and slowly a black void opens in the middle of my chest. No, I’m not ready to go there. I need to solve the mystery of Freya’s portrait before I let myself go down this insane rabbit hole. Shaking my head, I lift my gaze and focus on the valet drivers and all the activity outside the house. There must be over a hundred guests here tonight.
I wipe my cheeks then climb out of the car. I consider whether I should bring Freya’s phone. Other than Dad or Archer, I have no one else I want to talk to. Dad is here. And Archer won’t be home until morning.
After dinner earlier today, he said he had to drive into the city and get some work done that apparently had to be finished in the middle of the night. Archer’s excuse for leaving was weak at best. But I chose not to press the issue because something in his eyes told me he wanted to tell me why he couldn’t stay with me.
Even if Archer and I didn’t sleep in the same room since the beginning, we haven’t been apart since we got married. It hurt to say goodbye. But as soon as he left, I was able to think clearly again. I sat with Freya and Fisher in Archer’s study. By the time I had finished my after-dinner cocktail, I had a solid plan to see Dad again. I was able to simply walk to the garage, pick a car, and drive off. I drove a good fifty miles toward the city before I realized no one was coming to stop me. Archer meant it when he said I wasn’t his prisoner.
I make to grab Freya’s phone, when a hand clamps over my mouth. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
My heart rate immediately spikes at the sound of Chuck’s angry voice. I struggle to get away from him, but he holds me tighter to his body. Why should he care if I’m here or not? He can’t possibly still be mad at me for stealing Archer from him. By now, he should know I had nothing to do with Archer’s decision to marry me. Dad is the reason I had to marry the winner of the auction.
“I came to see Dad. Why are you here?” I’m sure he couldn’t make out my muffled words, but he lets go of me anyway. “Is Dad here? I need to talk to him?”
“He is. But Paloma, you shouldn’t be here. Especially not dressed like that.” His gaze roams up and down my body.
“I didn’t know there was a party here tonight.” I point to all the limos parked on the narrow street. “Shouldn’t Dad be resting?”
“It’s been on the books for a while. Dad couldn’t cancel. It’s election year, near death isn’t an excuse to leave your donors hanging.” He chuckles at his own joke.
“Can you take me to him?” I ask.
“Hmm.” He rubs the back of his neck, shooting a glance toward the house as if he is considering his options. What’s the big deal? Why can’t I go into my own house? After a long pause, he releases a breath. “Fine. I can get you in. But after that, you’re on your own. I mean, you’ve been playing Archer’s whore for months now. All this should be familiar to you.”
“Stop saying that. Archer is my husband.” I purse my lips to keep from saying more. Chuck is my way in. I can’t stand here and antagonize him. “You should come by the house and see us sometime.”
“Does he want to see me?” He looks away, visibly hurt by Archer’s apparent betrayal.
“He does.” I smile at him.
“Okay, maybe.” He shrugs. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.” I smooth out my sweater. “Lead the way.”
He grips my upper arm and ushers me down the street. As we near the front door, the valet drivers stop to look at us. They seem to recognize Chuck, but not me. He takes long strides up the driveway. I have to practically run to keep up with him.
“Mr. Davis, welcome back.” The security guard at the door dips his head, then turns to me.
“Don’t you know who this is?” Chuck asks in an impatient tone, still gripping my upper arm. “This is the Swan Queen. She’s with me.”
“Of course, sir.” The security guard nods and opens the door to let us through.
“Did you have to do that?” I ask once we were in the foyer. “I’m not the Swan Queen anymore.”
“Yes, you are.” He barks out a laugh. “Hey everyone.” He raises his hands to get the crowd’s attention. All the men and women turn slowly to us with expectant eyes. Chuck looks down at me. “The Swan Queen herself has arrived.”
“Wonderful.” The many faces smile at me and clap as the murmurs spread around the room. “The Swan Queen is here.”
“See?” He smirks at me. “You will always be the Swan Queen, little sister. The old man wouldn’t have it any other way. Have you not figured that out yet?”
“What are you talking about?” I glare at him.
“Enjoy the party.” He takes a deep bow, then disappears into the throng, leaving me all alone and confused as hell.
I stand there waiting for Chuck to come back and take me to see Dad, but he’s really gone. After a few beats, my gaze zeroes in on Hunter. My first instinct is to run, but his nose is still in a splint. He would be a real idiot to try something with me again. Archer would do more than break his nose this time.
“Come with me.” He strides toward me. When I don’t make an effort to follow him, he grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the grand staircase. “Don’t be difficult. I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.” I yank on my arm, but he doesn’t let go.
“Yes, you do. Dressed like that, you’ll get thrown out in under five minutes.” He continues down the upstairs hallway. “The Senator is already not happy with you. Don’t ruin this very important party for him.”
“Okay.” I pick up the pace to fall into step next to him. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the dressing room.” He pushes open the door to one of the larger bedrooms. “Go on.” He gestures for me to go in. “Take off those clothes and put on one of the black dresses,” he orders.
I scan the room quickly. The guest suite has been re-furnished with four daybeds along the wall and three garment racks right in the middle. Light brown wigs hang on the wall over a vanity table with all kinds of makeup scattered on it.
“What is this about?” I ask.
“It’s a costume party. You can’t be dressed like this.” He looks me up and down as if annoyed by my clothes.
“I can see that. But why the black swan outfits?” I pull out a dress with a bustier covered in dark feathers with a flowing mid-length tulle skirt.
“It’s tonight’s theme.” He meets my gaze. “Go on.”
“Can I get some privacy?” Undressing in front of other dancers isn’t a big deal, but Hunter isn’t a dancer, and he already tried to hurt me once.
He stands there ogling me. After a long pause, he ambles toward me and brushes my cheek. “He will be happy to see you.”
“Dad?” I step away from his touch.
“He regrets giving you up. Maybe there’s a way to forgive you.” His eyes search my face. “I think you’re here because you miss the way things were.”
“I’m just here to talk to Dad. It’s very important.” I shuffle back, hugging the dress to my chest. Something in Hunter’s eyes isn’t right. Is he high? Or drunk? I don’t like the way he’s looking at me, like I’m his, like he has the right to tell me what to wear or how to act—as if we were still together. “Just leave. I can take it from here.”
“I’ll let him know you’re here.” His gaze drops to the dress for a beat, and then, he walks out.
As soon as the door closes behind him, I release a breath. I shouldn’t have to jump through all these hoops to see my own father. But again, my conversation with him can’t wait. I drove two and half hours to get here, I’m not ready to give up. I quickly remove my jeans and sweater, then don the dress. The straps on my bra clash with the black corset, so I take it off too.
In the full-length mirror by the door, I can see my naked legs through the sheer skirt. I look around for tights, but there aren’t any, only boxes of ballet shoes. They’re not the real thing, but very similar in style and color. Out of habit, I put my hair up into a bun, then add a bit of dark eyeshadow and red lipstick.
When I glance at the mirror again, I see her—the black swan. I see Odíle smirking at me as if daring me to admit that I didn’t miss her. I think I do miss being Swan Queen. I worked so hard for it. Very few people get to live out the dream of realizing such an achievement. Why did Dad have to ruin it with an auction?
Archer’s voice booms in the back of my mind. “When you first came here, I waited for you to demand I take you back to finish the other seven performances, but you never asked.”
He’s not wrong in thinking I’m afraid to return to the theatre. Especially now that I know how those men think of me. Being the Swan Queen, I became a thing to possess, a fantasy of sorts. Never mind that they’ve known me all my life, that they saw me grow up.
“Ah!” A woman’s scream jostles me back to reality.
My heart races because I’m still on edge from finding our summer home crowded with strangers and then my run-ins with Chuck and Hunter. I suck in a breath, then open the door. The scream that’s now more of a laugh fills the corridor as I walk out of the makeshift dressing room. I look in both directions, but I’m alone. I’m certain her voice came from across the way. It’s none of my business what she’s doing in one of the bedrooms, but my gut tells me to check on her and make sure she’s alright.
Tonight seems to be the type of night where I follow my gut. Isn’t that why I’m here in yet another one of Dad’s donor parties? I dart to the door in front of me and quietly turn the knob. I push it open just a bit, then all the way when I don’t see anyone inside. But then she laughs again, and I follow her voice toward the en-suite bathroom.
When I peek inside, I cover my mouth to muffle my gasp. The woman who is about my height and build is there completely nude, with five other guys all dressed in tuxedos and black masks hiding half their faces.
Two of the men stand on either side of her and lift her, holding her by her arms and legs, and spreading her wide so the other three have easy access to her bare pussy. It’s like they’re presenting her on a platter. The one guy leans in and rubs her clit, while the other two play with her breasts.
She writhes and wiggles in what I assume is pleasure. What kind of party is this? Why are these people in my home having group sex? I’ve never seen one woman take on five men like that. The decent thing would be for me to walk away and let them be. Dad should know about this, but I can’t even begin to conceive the words to explain to him what’s happening right now.
“I think she likes that,” one of the men holding her says. “Have a taste of that cunt for me.”
“Omigod.” The woman rolls her hips up to meet the eager mouth that bends down to capture her pussy in a hungry kiss. “Yes.” She moves her face to the side to press her lips to one of her captors, then arches her back to let the other two men suck on her nipples. “Now.”
I shuffle back to leave, but my legs won’t move. If they catch me watching them, would they let me go? Or would they call Dad and tell him his daughter is being a total Peeping Tom. I brace my hand on the wall and glance up at the group again. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m telling myself that I will stop and go very soon.
The woman’s feet touch the tile and is quickly forced to bend over by the man who spent the last few minutes eating her pussy. He unzips his tuxedo trousers and reaches in to free his erection. Meanwhile, the woman is sucking off the other four men.
“Ah.” she exclaims again when the man enters her from behind.
I can’t stand here and watch. I make myself look away, painfully aware that my clit is throbbing between my legs. What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be here. I take several steps back and knock over a vase.
“Look.” The man with his cock buried inside the woman glances my way with greed in his eyes. “They sent a second one. Grab her.”
My heart thrashes in my ears. I want to tell them that I’m not here for them. That I’m looking for Dad. But somehow, I don’t think they’re interested in anything I have to say. They want to add me to their orgy or whatever it is they’re doing.
I shake my head and back away until the back of my legs hit the soft bedding over the king-size mattress. Their laughter fills the air and sends my heart rate into overdrive. “No.” I put up my hands, scrambling to get away from the bed.
“Tells us how you like it, pet.” One of the men strides toward me with his erection on full display.
Pet? The name finally makes me snap out of it and run out of the room. Their taunting laughs echo in my head as I dart toward the grand staircase. I need to find Dad and get out of here fast.
Down on the main floor, the guests don’t seem to notice me as I rush down the steps, struggling to catch my breath. Bit by bit, the entire room comes into focus. The women are dressed in long evening gowns while all the men are in their tuxedos. Everyone is wearing a mask except for a few people who are dressed exactly like me.
Are we all supposed to be black swans? Is that why the man upstairs called me a pet? Like a sub? Are the black-tie people supposed to be Doms then? Crap. Hunter should’ve warned me. But of course, he didn’t. This was revenge for the beating Archer gave him. What does it mean to be a pet? Do I get a say in whether they take me to one of the rooms?
Swan Lake plays in the background as many other swan princesses dance in the living room. I keep my head down and head toward the study where I hope Dad will be hosting his donors, like he usually does. I have to imagine that the whole point of this insane party is to get more money for his campaign. Chuck alluded to that earlier tonight when he found me outside.
I don’t care if Dad is working. I can’t stay here. And I’ve come too far not to at least try and talk to him. As I make my way through the throng, I can’t help but notice that all the women dressed like black swans look like me. Not just my height and physique but also my high cheek bones, my hair, and even my eyes. Is it possible they’re all wearing contacts?
Blood pumps hard through me when I stumble upon a group of Doms surrounding a black swan. They clap as she bends down and takes a cock into her mouth. They all reach in and pet her and call her a good girl while fondling her half-exposed breasts and rubbing her ass. And then I realize, no one saw me come downstairs because they’re all busy playing with their subs.
Fuck. I look around the room.
I can’t wrap my head around this entire theme and the idea that they’re all in a sense fucking me. Is that the point? I lift my head and immediately spot Hunter taking a black swan upstairs. He’s all over her, kissing her neck as he slips his hand under her skirt. From this angle, she could be me.
“No.” The word is barely a whisper.
Dad wouldn’t have a party like this, where everyone is here to play with his daughter. To these people, I’m just another dancer. None of them recognize me as Paloma Davis. I’m just one of many right now. Same as I am during ballet before I find my prince. But Hunter, my own brother, and Dad, they know me. They know the real me, not the Swan Queen. Anger pools at the pit of my stomach. No wonder so many of his friends showed up to the auction.
Their presence wasn’t a coincidence. Dad invited them. Dad knew that I would fetch the six million dollars he needed because all of these people have fantasized about me. Or rather, they have fantasized about being with the Swan Queen.
I close the distance between me and the study and push the door open without looking back. Inside, Dad is on his wing backed chair facing the fireplace. Two black swans with their breasts hanging out are at his feet looking up at him with adoring eyes.
“You did good.” He pets her head. “Go on. I need to be alone.”
I stand frozen by the door as the two women fix their dresses, and then, walk past me. They’re not surprised to see me at all. In seconds, the door closes behind them and the cacophony of voices and laughter on the other side dies down. Suddenly, the room is too quiet. My chest tightens, and I can’t breathe. The air feels thick and heavy. Everything around me just feels heavy.
Leaning on the door, I grip my left wrist with my right. My mother’s portrait, Dad calling her a whore, his friends raising the paddles to up the bid—all the images flash in my mind until it’s a single entity that spirals fast in my head.
What am I looking at? I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to recognize the truth staring me in the face. When I lift my gaze, I open my eyes and immediately see him looking at me in shock.
The panic in his eyes tells me I’m not supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to see any of this. But if that’s the case, why did Chuck let me in? Why did Hunter take me upstairs and then let me roam the house at my leisure? Were they doing as he asked? Or are they like me, and they’re finally seeing Dad for what he is.
A handful of dots, clues, bounce around in my head waiting for me to connect them. But it’s too painful. Right now, I can only deal with a single thought. Dad lied about Freya being my mother. He lied about the painting. I can feel it in my bones. That everything he’s ever told me about Mom has been a farce. He made everything up, but to what end?
“You lied to me.” I glare at him with all the contempt I can muster.