Chapter 46
PIERCE
She wanted to be alone to sleep…so I took her clothes.
If she tried to leave, it would be naked through the woods during a thunderstorm.
I liked my chances of her staying, at least for the night.
The next morning, while she slept, I retreated to my study. I stared into the fire, waiting for the weight on my chest to ease.
It didn’t.
The Worthington Legacy.
The Worthington Curse.
My study was usually an escape. Ornate wooden bookshelves lined the walls, their dark oak frames worn and polished with age.
Volumes of ancient texts, their spines displaying intricate golden inlays, rested in meticulous order.
Today, everything just looked garish and overdone in the harsh morning sunlight.
Skylar, my former fiancée, stood in the doorway.
My brother had sent her.
There was a slight swelling on her cheekbone. Of course she covered the bruise with makeup, but makeup could only do so much.
My fingers closed into a fist. Had Madison been forced to cover bruises from his hand? I shook off my murderous thoughts. There would be time for that later.
For now I needed to focus.
The question was…was Skylar here to learn my plans…or kill me.
Patience was never a virtue my brother possessed. He had to be getting anxious to finalize his plan to get rid of me so he could take my place.
She glided toward me. Her lean curves shifted with every step, something I used to think was sexy. Now it seemed predatory, and worse, jaded.
If she thought I was prey she’d be gravely mistaken.
A gilded clock ticked softly.
Breaking the silence, I took the lead as I crossed to the sideboard. “You know, I’ve been meaning to replace my butler,” I remarked.
Despite the early hour, I poured us both a brandy. If I was going to cross swords with her, I’d need a drink.
“His penchant for admitting unwelcomed guests is starting to become problematic. Don’t you hate it when people forget their place?”
Her shoulders tightened and I knew my meaning hit.
Her laughter, delicate yet mocking, resonated in the vastness of the room. She raised the glass I handed her before retaking my seat. “Tell me, what should we toast to? A new business venture, or maybe fanning an old flame?”
Holding up my glass, I couldn’t resist the urge to taunt her. “How about to my forthcoming nuptials?”
Her hand stilled and she stared at me over the rim. A heartbeat later, she took a sip.
She then shifted away to survey the room, perhaps searching for clues or maybe just taking in the extravagant surroundings that could have been hers and were now slipping from her greedy grasp. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
I smirked. She knew who it was. She was at the courthouse every single day watching me watch her.
I raised an eyebrow and met her gaze.
“You can’t be serious? A man in your position marry that mousy little nobody? That is ridiculous! She doesn’t know how to be a Worthington. She wasn’t bred to be your wife. She was bred to marry some blue-collar laborer and pop out a few grubby kids.”
I matched her venom with detached resolve as I leaned back in my plush leather chair. “I’d be very careful about what you say about my future wife, Skylar.”
I’d put Madison through enough. The least I could do was not let her be devoured by Skylar like a mouse being eaten whole by a snake.
She stepped closer, her perfume filling the space between us. “How can you forsake our history, the love we shared, for a fleeting whim? By all means, fuck her, get her out of your system, but don’t ruin your good name and the Worthington legacy over a nobody.”
She really was a fine actress, I would give her that. I almost believed this display of forsaken lost love.
Until I spied the glass vial sticking out of the top of her emerald-green crocodile Hermes purse.
My patience for this game wore thin. “Get her out of my system? Is that what you were doing when you sucked my best friend’s cock?”
“Don’t be crude.”
I bowed my head. “My apologies. When you decided to let my best friend sample your unique skills…while on your knees.”
She circled around my chair before sitting on the armrest. She then leaned to the side and placed her hand on my inner thigh. The touch that used to light my blood on fire left me cold.
“I thought we had something,” she whispered, clearly not ready to give in.
I chuckled and removed her hand but kept my seat.
“We did…once…but it is nothing compared to what I feel for Madison,” I said, twisting the knife.
It wasn’t like me to betray even the slightest emotion to an adversary, but this was part of the game—the new one I’d just begun with my wayward brother.
I needed him to think Madison mattered to me for it to work. I needed him to learn about my plans to marry her and to think it was a love match. That it was the truth, was immaterial.
It would force his hand. He would know as well as I that he may be able to fool the rest of the world into thinking he was me…but he wouldn’t fool Madison. Not my sweet, intelligent, beautiful girl. She would know.
I may be an unrepentant bastard when it came to her, but she would know the man who’d hit her. She’d know the difference between our touch. The difference between us.
Skylar’s voice dropped. “What about me? I was meant to be Mrs. Worthington, not her.”
What I had felt once for Skylar had nothing to do with who she was and everything to do with what was expected of me. Especially by my father.
Mockingly, I replied, “It’s a shame my brother’s dead. You could have married him. That would have made you a Mrs. Worthington, one whose husband had absolutely no control, or money, or even the estate, but hey, you would’ve had the name.”
She moved and stood in front of my chair, arms crossed over her chest, pressing her tits up. “That’s not funny, Pierce.”
I couldn’t help comparing her, the woman who embodied everything society insisted beauty should be, with the breathtaking vixen I had taken and was now holding against her will. She lay fast asleep, tangled in the sheets, exhausted after I’d spent the night fucking her.
It should have been my bed she slept in. Instead, she was hidden away in a bedroom in a half-closed wing of the estate—the worst-kept secret in the house.
Skylar could walk a runway. She could charm dignitaries and captivate a room without trying. But she couldn’t hold a candle to Madison.
I met her gaze. “I wasn’t laughing.”
Taking a deep breath, she smiled, the expression not reaching her eyes.
Displaying her curves as she bent down, she ran her palms over the top of my thighs, before reaching for my glass.
She then turned toward the sideboard. The glass vial no longer sticking out of her bag. “Let me refresh your drink for you.”
I ran my palm over my pant leg, brushing away the lingering feel of her touch as I said casually, “You won’t change my mind, Skylar.”
She turned back toward me, holding two glasses. “Well then, let’s toast again. This time to parting as old friends.”
It amused me that she genuinely thought I hadn’t noticed her slipping poison into my drink.