Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hennessy: Tis the season to be jolly.
“We do it every year,” she revealed. “You’ll get to meet the family. They’re dying to meet you.”
I jerked back. “Me? Why?”
“You’re my fiancé’s niece. Of course they're dying to meet you.”
Unable to resist, I blurted, “Did you know my father?”
“You could say that.”
“That’s why I’m asking you.”
“Knew isn’t the word I’d use for your father.”
My eyebrows pinched together before I continued. “The family hasn’t spoken to my uncle since before I was born. How long have you guys been together?”
She eyed me cautiously for a moment. “That’s what they told you?”
“What do you mean?”
She leaned against the kitchen island. “What do you know about us?”
“Up until I moved here, I didn’t know about you at all.”
“Interesting. And your uncle?”
“They had a falling out over him choosing the Graves over running the family business.”
“That’s what they told you?”
I cocked my head to the side. “You already said that.”
“Hennessy—”
“Is that not the truth?”
“There’s always two sides to every story.”
“There’s actually three. Yours, theirs, and the truth.”
She wavered, answering, “You’re a very clever girl. That’s a good trait to have in this world.”
Using what I said to my advantage, I asked, “Why don’t you have to marry into the Brotherhood?”
She was expressionless, with no reaction.
“From what I hear…” I tread lightly. “Deja has an arranged marriage, and you’re a Devereaux, so…”
It was her turn to tilt her head, side-stepping my question. “Your family is always invited into our home, Hennessy, just as you are. You’re making yourself quite comfortable, I see. Your crows keep shitting all over the property.”
You’d think I’d be used to everyone blowing me off, but it still felt like a dagger to the heart. Placating her, I replied, “I’ll talk to them about that.”
She mocked. “Good luck with that. Maybe try feeding them in the woods instead of so close to the house? I’m sure the groundskeeper will appreciate that.”
“Douglas,” I pointed out, “said he had no problem with me feeding the birds in the backyard.”
“You’re on a first-name basis with the staff?”
“Yeah,” I clipped. “I also eat with them sometimes. They like my Peruvian food.”
Her eyes went wide.
“I don’t like eating alone.”
“Is that why you’re making so much food?”
I couldn’t tell her most of it was for her nephew, so I just stated, “I’m used to cooking for a lot more people. Maybe you would like to try some?”
“How about you cook something for tomorrow? We can take it over to my brother’s?”
I grabbed her olive branch. “I can do that.”
“Great.” She beamed, her bright white teeth on display.
She was dressed to the nines, wearing a pencil skirt and collared blouse that probably cost more than my first car. It was her jewelry that shined like the high heavens. She had so much of it on I was surprised she didn’t walk around with a bodyguard.
“Be ready to go by three, alright? We don’t like to be late.”
“No problem.”
To say I was nervous about this celebration would be an understatement. I couldn’t visualize what a room full of Devereauxs would look like. I imagined they would leave quite an impression on me, and maybe vice versa.
If they were anything like their nephew and father, it would be a long day.
“The attire is formal. Did you bring something with you, or should I have the stylist bring something for you to try on? How about the hair and makeup artist?”
I lied, “I’m sure I can put something together.”
“Great,” she repeated. On her way out of the kitchen, she added, “My mother is allergic to walnuts.”
Damn, I’m meeting Grandma too…
“No walnuts, got it.”
After she left, I finished cooking and ran upstairs trying to find a dress that I didn’t have. By the time I ripped apart my closet, I threw on a pair of sweats, tank, and hoodie to meet Onyx at the greenhouse. We were watching a movie tonight, and I had a surprise for him.
Over the past few weeks, I started secretly investigating whatever I could find about the Devereauxs and the Brotherhood, only to come up empty. I even went back to the museum, wanting to retake photos of that room, but the building had been torn down.
I searched old newspaper articles at the library, property records, archives, the internet, nothing…
The information I did find about the Devereauxs was normal wealthy people shit, nothing that had to do with my father or family. It was as if history was scrubbed down to this town. The old maps, property deeds, cemetery records… I thought of everything, only to find out the good stuff.
No negatives, no bad press, no scandals, no hint that anything had gone wrong, just constant whispers. It was a huge red flag. Everyone at school still treated me like a leper. Except for a few stolen glances here and there between Onyx and me, I hadn’t made any friends.
Deja kept her distance, though sometimes we did eat lunch together with her friends, talking about superficial things. None of which interested me in the process. I sat there pretending to pay attention and following along.
One night, I tried to go into the building where I was led to on campus, the one I wasn’t supposed to go in, but it was locked. You couldn’t see through the black-out windows.
Sighing, I gazed at myself in the mirror one more time before adding a bit of perfume.
It was cold outside, making my wavy hair soft and shiny.
My feelings for the Devereaux estate hadn’t changed.
I still felt so many demons clawing at my feet any time I stepped foot in there, and tomorrow would be no different, especially with all the extended family.
However, my emotions for the prodigal son were all over the place. I was opening up to him in ways I never had. He was genuinely interested in everything I shared.
I was grateful to have the greenhouse. It was our escape away from everyone. It was the most precious gesture anyone had ever given me, and the fact that it came from the person I least expected wasn’t lost on me.
I rode the bike I found in my uncle’s garage to the greenhouse, already finding him in there, staring at my surprise.
Getting right to the point, I greeted, “I hear we’re having Thanksgiving together?”
Onyx
I got to spend some alone time with Hennessy, arriving at the greenhouse first. She surprised me with a blow-up mattress she set up in the corner of the room, topped with soft blankets and pillows. It was surrounded by candles, looking really fucking cozy.
Ignoring her remark, I asked, “You trying to seduce me, Hennessy?”
She grinned, wiggling her fingers. “I already put a spell on you.”
“That you did.”
“Are you going to acknowledge my statement?”
I shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”
“How bad is it going to be?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“Your definition of bad.”
“Onyx! You’re supposed to make me feel better.”
I stepped close to her, my face turning into the palm of her hand, and I softly kissed it.
“You’re cheating.”
“I’m improvising.”
She chuckled, “You’re the boy who cried wolf, but instead of crying, you try to flirt your way out of everything.”
“Says the woman who made a makeshift bed surrounded by candles.”
“I thought I could set the mood for the movie.”
With that, she plopped down on the bed, gesturing to follow her. I didn’t have to be told twice. She lit the candles and then turned on an old movie on her laptop.
I leaned against the wall on the bed, questioning, “What movie is this?”
“Fitzcarraldo. It’s about a European living in Iquitos, Peru. He wants to bring the opera to the and needs to raise money, so he comes up with a plan.” She smiled. “Now you can see my home.”
We watched it for a bit. She was narrating a lot of it, adding details and differences of what she experienced versus what they showed.
Once we were about halfway through, she called out, “You look tired,” as she scratched my head on her lap. “Everyone’s working you too hard.”
I slowly turned my face in her lap, nuzzling my nose along her inner thigh as I gazed up at her, wrapping my arms around her waist. In one swift move, I tugged her tiny frame toward me, making her squeal.
Slowly, I slid my body on top of hers, supporting my weight with my arms on either side of her face. My mouth was now inches away from hers.
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
She smirked as I gently brushed my lips back and forth along her mouth. Loving the feel of her lips against mine, so soft, so warm, so mine.
“Shocker, you never want to talk about anything when it comes to you.”
I couldn’t define what we were to each other, but it felt right when it was supposed to be wrong.
“What did you cook for me?”
She giggled. “You’re going to have to wait and see.”
She was the first woman besides my mother to cook me a meal, and I found it so fucking arousing. Something about knowing she was feeding me literally made my dick hard.
“How’s your back?” she asked, grazing her lips against mine. “I made more medicine for you. I can put it on you if you’d like?”
“I don’t want to talk about that either.”
“Then what do you want to talk about, Onyx?”
I smiled. “Who says I want to talk at all?” I worked my way down her neck, yearning to feel her pulse beating against my lips.
I stopped on the spot right under her ear that made her go crazy, moving her hair to the other side of her neck, never letting up on my caresses on her skin.
I could feel the effect I was having on her.
“Mmm…” she moaned, making my cock twitch.
I loved her body's response to me. Most women performed, trying to outdo one another. She was different. I wanted to feel her from the inside, enjoying driving her insane with need, getting her nice and wet for me.
It was the sociopath in me.
“What, baby?” I huskily groaned, kissing from her neck to her collarbone, working my way down to her breasts.
She was wearing a tank and sweats, her hair a mess. I went right for her hard nipple, poking through her slim cotton top. One of the other things I liked about her was that she never wore a bra. She didn’t need to. Her tits were perfect and perky.
Lightly, I flicked her nipple with my tongue through her tank. She was coming undone beneath me, soft moans escaping her pouty lips. I grabbed her wrists with one hand and placed them above her head. My other hand worked its way down her torso to her hip, pushing her further to the edge.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Her mouth parted, licking her lips as I slowly pulled down her tank top. The feel of her was all around me, making me burn with desire to claim every last inch of her body.
I wanted to capture this moment, holding on to it for as long as I could. I did that a lot with her, capturing moments I’d look back on when she was gone.
She couldn’t last in my world. She didn’t belong in it. I’d make sure of it. Until then, I wanted to remember her just like this.
For me.
Mine.