Chapter 4 Guess Who’s Back
GUESS WHO’S BACK
I’d compare dinner with my family to a game of Mom trying to get Dad’s attention. It’s why I’ve never invited anyone over for dinner at the estate or at the country club or anywhere else my parents dine.
Lachlan has been here multiple times for various occasions, including dinner, although never with just the four of us. The last time he ate with us, Pippa and Hunt were here too. I was here because it was Christmas, and it was expected of me.
Dad sits at the head of the long table with Lachlan on his left. Mom is to the right of Dad and I’m beside Lachlan—per Mom’s insistence.
Not once has he spoken to me or even looked my way through all six courses. My Dad doesn’t care at all, too engrossed in their conversation about the business.
Mom has cleared her throat and nodded at me with encouragement so many times it looks like she’s having small seizures.
Thank God it’s time for dessert. After that I’m free and still on a mission to corner Lachlan at his pool house and force him to hear me out.
Owen, the server, sets a beautiful white and red dessert in front of us each. “Buttermilk panna cotta, lychee, raspberry and rose,” he says then takes a glass teapot filled with a red sauce and pours some over our desserts.
“Enjoy,” he says and refills Mom’s wine before leaving.
She’s on her second bottle.
She raises her glass and smiles.
Not again. I close my eyes to keep from rolling them.
We all know what she’s going to say.
I touch my glass of wine, what’s left of it, but I don’t pick it up.
Mom clears her throat because Dad and Lachlan haven’t noticed her with her glass in the air. Either that or they’re ignoring her on purpose.
Undeterred, Mom makes a toast, “To Lord Lachlan and Lady Emery.”
Dad puffs through his nose. “Give it a rest, Priscilla.”
Her smile remains intact, even as her eyes narrow to tiny slits. “It’s not everyday one’s daughter marries into nobility.”
“But it is every thirty minutes that you bring it up, and it is inaccurate.” His voice deepens with a tight smile.
“Inaccurate?” Mom lets out a laugh that sounds like the word, ha! “He’s related to earls and his mother is a countess with an ancestral castle.” She looks at Lachlan. “Is that not correct?”
Dad raises a hand to Lachlan, whose attention is on my semi-intoxicated, overly nosy mother. “You don’t have to explain anything to her.”
“It’s fine,” Lachlan says in a calm, slightly perturbed tone. “The castle was owned by several Scottish earls throughout history. One of them passed it down to an ancestor on my mother’s side, but my mum relinquished the title upon her inheritance of the castle.”
Mom gasps as if a man with a chainsaw just burst into the room. “Why would she do that?”
“That’s enough, Priscilla,” Dad barks. “Sit back and enjoy your wine.”
Awkward silence falls over the room until Dad resumes his conversation with Lachlan.
I’m about to excuse myself, when Mom says, “You’ll never guess who’s back in town?”
Setting my napkin on the table, I lean forward and indulge her. “Who?”
“Raphael.”
I almost choke on my spit. Dad even pauses then continues with his conversation smoothly.
Mom’s only bringing him up to piss off Dad. I haven’t seen Raphael since the night I snuck out to meet him at the pool house. That’s not entirely true. I would see him from afar. He wasn’t allowed within fifty feet of me based on the distance he kept when working with his father in the yard.
I’d heard he went to college in Puerto Rico where he has family.
I glance at Dad who’s pretending to ignore Mom’s bait and notice Lachlan’s shoulders are suddenly tense. He always appears unperturbed. It can’t be Mom’s comment that has him stiff.
Only one way to find out.
I lean forward. “Is he here on the estate?”
Mom glances at Lachlan, who looks like he’s listening to my father. She must notice his shoulders too, because her lips curl with a conspiratorial grin. “I don’t know for certain, but I assume he is. You could always find out. I doubt he or his father have ever been in the presence of a Lady.”
I glower. Even after Dad’s warning, Mom can’t help herself. It was only a matter of time before she jumped ship and swam to the nearest royal shoreline.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I stand and straighten my black spaghetti strap lace dress.
The formfitting material would hug my curves if I had any below the chest. Instead, it falls straight over my narrow hips to mid-calf. The sheer bodice has a faux corset and padding so you don’t need a bra.
Mom chose the dress for tonight, and I chose to add a little triangle piece of black lace lined with silk to conceal my cleavage.
I have several pieces I wear with dresses that dip into a V and reveal too much chest for my taste.
Mom hates the inserts, but there’s nothing she can do short of snatching the material from my cleavage when I walk into the room.
She’d never show that side of herself in front of guests.
For all her despising the added material, she never checks on me before a dinner or event begins to do anything about it.
You’d think she’d learn to do that by now.
“Where are you going?” Dad asks.
“My bedroom,” I say with a hint of disdain. He doesn’t own me anymore. He sold me to the man at his side.
Dad pins me with his sharp amber gaze. “Ask Lachlan if you can be excused.”
I gape. He can’t be serious. I glance at Lachlan, who manages to appear bored whenever he looks at me. His aqua eyes hold mine and his long dark lashes blink, and blink, and blink to a slow, steady beat.
“Do you want me to ask you if I can be excused?” I say like it’s absurd—because it is.
“It would be appreciated.” Something flits in his eyes. A test? A smirk? Both? He’s so damn hard to read.
If that’s how he wants to play, I’m game. Let’s see how uncomfortable I can make the man who detests me sexually.
I face him and bend from the waist, letting my too-big breasts spill from the top of my dress directly in his face before moving my mouth to his ear.
My long strands fall over his suit jacket and brush his cheek.
I take a moment to let my breath caress his ear before asking in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Lachlan, dear. I would give myself the greatest pleasure, if you would allow me to retire for the night?”
The wordplay is intentional. On any other man, insinuating I’m going to masturbate would drive him wild. On Lachlan, at most, he'll get annoyed that I dared to flirt with him. Our agreement states that we show public displays of affection. Legally, he asked for this.
He turns his head and inhales my scent almost as if he’s enjoying it. Moments pass yet he hasn’t responded. Again, I count the seconds. One Dior bag, two Dior bags, three Dior bags, four—
To my shock, he trails his fingers from my bare shoulder to the inner crease of my elbow, sending electric shivers across my skin in a way that surprises me.
“You may.”
I straighten, but he catches my wrist in a firm grip before I can walk off.
“Meet me at the pool house in ten. There’s something we need to discuss.” He releases me, and I’m shocked I don’t stumble.
My heavier breathing is making me lightheaded. I don’t like orders or being controlled. But whatever Lachlan just did to me, which wasn’t much, turned me on. Both times a charge went from his touch to my core like a lightning strike.
This is not good. Not good at all.
Careful not to stumble, I leave the room pretending I’m totally fine. I’m the opposite of fine. As soon as I’m far enough down the hallway where they can’t see me, I stop to lean against the wall and catch my breath.
I cannot find my husband attractive. I already do, but I understand I’m not his type. If I start pining for him, this entire situation will go south faster than the birds in fall.
How am I supposed to join him on his business trip now—assuming he agrees with my plan? I need to regroup and find a book boyfriend to focus on instead of Lachlan. Even now, I’m imagining his hand doing that sparking-tingle all over my body, even on my breasts. I never picture that!
The bra stays on. Even with Gabe it did—not that we made out much.
Just once, when we managed to sneak in a little action without my dad’s minions barging in.
After about fifteen minutes, my paranoia took over, and I told him we had to stop.
Other than that, I’ve only kissed random guys at clubs or parties.
I veer for the bar in the living room. It has something I could use to take the edge off before facing my sexy husband in person.
My legal husband. Some people go to the courthouse to get married.
Pippa and I went to our dad’s office. No one said I do.
But I could have signed a page that stated such a thing at one point.
I signed more documents than I ever have.
Dim lighting guides me to the living room. I stop at the glass built-in bar behind the grand piano and notice the glow of a phone moving on the back terrace. Lachlan? It hasn’t been ten minutes yet.
I scan the bottles of liquor, clueless of which to choose. I don’t drink that often compared to most college students, although that might change now that I’m married to him.
Suddenly, I’m reminded I have to experience fake kissing him on our wedding day. What is the point of a ceremony if we’re legally married?
Ugh.
With my nerves flying at 51,000 feet, I pour the closest brown liquid from a crystal decanter into a tumbler and down the drink.
I cough and cover my mouth to smother the sound. That was like a shot of petroleum. Heat spreads down my throat and into my belly. That part I like. I inhale three breaths and walk to the doors to greet Lachlan.
The cooler summer night air makes me wish I had a sweater. Rubbing my arms, I follow the phone light to the source.
“That was fast,” I say to his back. His very casually dressed back.
Huh?
The man turns and it’s Raphael. My first kiss and the only guy who’s ever seen me topless—not that I had much back then—and not necessarily by choice. He’s a fast mover, handsy in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
Raphael isn’t that tall, but he’s built and has nice bronze skin. His hair is long, brushing his shoulders. He flashes me a bright smile.
“Emery,” he says, his Spanish accented voice surprised.
“Hi. Uh. Sorry. I thought you were someone else. What are you doing here?”
He wiggles his phone. “The signal is better here than at the cottage.”
That makes sense. It can be spotty even in the orangery at times.
“You look incredible.” He takes me in, his smile growing bigger.
Why I blush, I couldn’t tell you. Maybe because he sounds genuine. “Thank you.”
“I bet you get told that all the time.”
Not all the time. And mostly by drunk guys at clubs or parties who want in my pants, so they don’t count.
“You still living at college?” he asks. “My dad keeps me in the loop,” he adds as an excuse for knowing about my life.
“I was.” I nod, not sure how to answer without sounding pathetic. I had to drop out because my trust fund was taken away and to get it back, I married a man who prefers the opposite sex.
“Don’t tell me your married now?” he teases.
Again, I don’t know how to respond, so I stand there blinking at him with what I’m sure is a dumbfounded look on my face.
A big hand runs across my back and slips around my waist. I flinch, but Lachlan tightens his grip, pinning me to his side.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks in a dark tone.
“Yes. Actually.” With Lachlan I have no problem finding my words. Annoying, snarky, intentional words. “This is Raphael. A blast from my past.”
It’s too dark in the dimly lit terrace to see if Raphael’s cheeks turn red, but from the way he dips his head, I’m guessing he’s blushing.
“Raphael.” Lachlan holds out his hand. “I’m Lachlan, Emery’s husband.”
Inwardly, I cringe.
Raphael’s eyes widen. “You are married,” he says to me with amused shock. To Lachlan, he shakes his hand and says, “Congratulations. Emery is a prize.”
Aw. I smile at the sweet compliment.
Lachlan returns his arm to my waist and tugs me to him again. “She’s more than that.”
His fingers dig into the ribs just under my boob. He runs his thumb over the bottom of my breast. I stiffen as if I were poked with a pin. What the hell? Copping a feel without my consent in public is not something I’m okay with. I will make that clear.
“If you’ll excuse us, Raphael, I need to speak to my husband.” I can barely get the words past my tight lips.
“Of course.” He nods and steps away. “I need to get back to my dad. Take care.”
“Thanks. You too.” My tone softens for him.
“It was nice meeting you,” he says to Lachlan, who just nods.
My controlling husband keeps me glued to his side as we follow a path across the yard to the pool house in the distance.
“You can let go,” I snarl. “He can’t see us.”
“I think I’ll keep you here to teach you a lesson.”
The nerve! “Whatever lesson you hope to teach me is a waste of time. Ask my dad. I like to push my luck.”
“What was it you said in the bathroom…? ‘I’ll play the role of the loving spouse in public’.”
“This is hardly public.”
“Anytime it’s not the two of us, it’s public.”
I groan. “If only I had seen the side of you yesterday, I would have—”
“What? What would you have done? Gone against your father and not married me? Chose to live without your trust fund? We both know you wouldn’t have done anything differently.”
I hate him for being right.
At the patio to the pool house, I wrench free from him, escaping easily as if he let me go.
Lachlan’s gaze slides over my body, stopping on my breasts. Somewhere along the way, I lost my cleavage insert. Dammit.
I use my hands to cover myself as best as I can. “How long is this going to take, I’m chilly?” The breeze is cooler than usual for June.
“After that little stunt you pulled at dinner, I should carry you to the pool and toss you in the cold water.”
“The pool is heated.” I deliver with the same finesse as sticking out my tongue.
His jaw flexes. “Get inside.”
I would argue, but I’m chilly. I’m also a bit wary about him tossing me into the pool. Yes, the water is heated but getting out would be freezing.
I spin on my high heel and let myself into the pool house.