Deception (Infidelity #3)

When she explained that I should basically not remove it, I narrowed my eyes and asked her to confirm that there wasn’t a camera attached to the necklace. She promised me that it was more like the health bracelets everyone wore, with the added benefit of pinpoint-accurate global positioning.

Recalling my telephone conversation with Nox from the night before, my face warmed. More than likely my cheeks were changing to the same color as the markings I’d willingly delivered to my own body as I worried about the heart-rate part of this necklace. I wasn’t sure I wanted Nox’s security to know that much about me.

I could hear them now. “Her heart rate is too high. Maybe we should call an ambulance?” And then they’d rush in and find me and their boss in some compromising position.

Shaking my head, I sent my text message to Clayton:

“I WILL BE DONE IN AN HOUR AND A HALF. YOU CAN PICK ME UP THEN, SAME PLACE YOU DROPPED ME OFF.”

Almost immediately Clayton’s response buzzed on my phone.

“YES, MA’AM. I’LL BE THERE.”





I FELT ODD watching Lana cook, but not Pat. I loved seeing how he combined ingredients to create heavenly meals. I sat at the counter overlooking his kitchen. Just beyond the smooth surface and my glass of chardonnay, my cousin was once again preparing magic in a pan—in three pans, to be more exact.

“Did you see the latest about the woman who was shot?” Patrick asked.

I cradled my head in my hands with my elbows on the granite. I had too many things to think about. I wanted her to be safe and spend my time with other concerns. “No. What did it say?”

“Oh! This isn’t a hold-your-head kind of thing.” His voice was full of animation. “They’ve changed their mind about her being an innocent bystander.”

I lifted my eyes. “What do you mean?”

His brow lengthened, revealing more of his forehead with his thinning hair, and his light brown eyes danced with secrets. “I don’t know for sure.”

“You lost me.”

“I think you should call that Mrs. Witt lady. All I know is that they said the case has been changed to attempted murder.”

“Wouldn’t it be anyway? I mean, she was shot. It’s not like I’ve been questioned and the police think Nox or I was the intended target.”

“That’s the thing. In the beginning they were saying that she was a woman in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now there’s something about her relationship with her husband, questioning his whereabouts. It all makes it sound as if she was the intended target.” He continued to dice and stir, filling the air with the wonderful aroma of onions and peppers. “I could be reading too much into it, but I bet that woman knows more.”

“The woman who was shot?” I asked.

“No, that Witt woman.”

I shook my head. “Pat, I don’t know if I can entertain any more conspiracy theories.”

“But don’t you get it? If she was the intended target, it wasn’t you or Mr. Good-looking.”

I took a deep breath and leaned back against the tall stool. “That would be nice.”

“By the way, does he know you’re here?”

“Yes. My sleepover is Demetri-approved.”

“What about Montague? Do they approve?”

I shrugged. “Does it make me a terrible daughter if I say that my fucks are completely used with other concerns? I have no more to give.”

Patrick laughed. “No, little cousin, I think you deserve that. Now where were you last night?”

“Nox’s house…” If it had been almost anyone else, I wasn’t sure if I’d have answered the question so freely, but Patrick made me feel safe, just as he had all of our lives, protecting me in ways I didn’t even know.

After dinner, I asked, “Do you know anything about marijuana legislation?”

“You mean, did I consider moving to Colorado?”

A smile brightened my face. “That wasn’t what I meant. I need to look up some things about one of my professors.”

“I’m sure you could ask the Witt lady.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “No, it’s not that big of a deal. My faculty advisor wants to recommend me for an internship…”

“Because you don’t have enough on your plate?”

My lips formed a straight line. “Because she said it would be good for me.” I considered what she’d said. “It would be a good name association. I don’t know. I think it’s something Bryce said to me that’s eating at me.”

Patrick plopped down on the sofa and kicked his feet onto the glass coffee table. Faking a full body shiver, he said, “I’d think most anything he said would eat at you. Kind of like a tapeworm, you know, from the inside until nothing was left. Why are you even considering what he’d say?”

“I don’t know. I’m confused. Two nights ago, when I came over here, I’d learned something about Nox, something unsettling. I still don’t know the details, but it seems that maybe some of Bryce’s warnings weren’t just hot air.”

“You’re not second-guessing that handsome man, are you? Not that you can,” he added.

“I’m not. But what if there’s more that I need to consider? This is about the internship. Bryce warned me that Nox was using me for my name, which is ridiculous since he didn’t even know it. Now I’m wondering about this professor. Would a tobacco name like Montague be an asset to his team?”

“That’s not something I could even begin to answer.”

“Maybe I should ask Bryce?”

Patrick’s nose scrunched.

I shook my head. “Or maybe not. I just don’t know anymore. Sometimes I think—”

The ringing of my phone, the friend-not-foe tune, redirected my attention. The screen read CHELSEA.

A weight I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying lifted from my chest. I’d missed my best friend, and soon she’d be with me in New York. I hadn’t originally been sure I wanted her here, but after being without her for over a month, I couldn’t wait for any little bit of time that we could find to be together.

“Hey! I’m so glad to see your name! When are you getting your butt to New York?”

Her incomprehensible sobs were all I could hear.

I jumped from the couch, clenching my phone in my grasp. “What is it?” I waited. “Chelsea, talk to me. Are you all right? Where are you?”





SITTING IN THE dark near the window in the library had become one of my favorite places to be. In the evenings I’d often make my way to the serenity of the solitude there. The velvet chaise near the large leaded-glass panes provided the perfect view. Though it was early autumn, the evening and early nighttime air was still warm. I liked to open the window and enjoy the gentle breeze as it silently fluttered the drapes. The scene below rarely changed. In some ways the moonlit, pristine manicured lawns, various gardens, pool, and lake gave me a sense of immortality.

As I brought my wine to my lips, the thought of immortality made me snicker. Just a little over a week ago, I was ready to test my mortality. My shoulders straightened. That was the past. Now I had a new purpose, a reason to move forward.

Settling against the plush velvet while taking in the never-changing scene a story below, I contemplated something Alexandria had said the last time she was here. She’d said that things at Montague Manor never changed. Even in her youth, she understood what generations before her had known: Montague Manor remained the same.

Throughout my life I’d found a sense of comfort in that. The landscape before me was the same as it had been for my mother and most likely for my grandmother. Even with consistent renovations and updated amenities, the manor and grounds were timeless.

I used to wonder what it all looked like hundreds of years ago, when the tobacco plantation was first settled. I’d ponder if the first Charles Montague knew how far-reaching his investment would take his ancestors or the impact it would have on their lives. Would it have been better to have descended from those who lived in one of the hundreds of tiny homes that once covered this property?