Chapter Twenty-Nine 

 

 

I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror with a critical eye before twisting one way and then the other.  The blue sleeveless halter dress falls to my knees.  Even though there’s nothing wrong with the dress, it irritates me that I don’t have a choice about wearing it.  I’m eighteen years old, I can decide for myself what’s appropriate for an adult party. 

A small, stubborn part of me is tempted to change into the short pink tulle dress, but I would never go through with it.  The stress of moving to this rinky-dink town, taking over a multi-million-dollar company, and hosting this ill-fated party has pushed my parents over the edge of their sanity. 

So, if Mom wants me to wear this dress in a bizarre attempt to impress the small-minded town folk, then I guess I’ll do it, but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it. 

As soon as I finished my bath, I styled my hair in a sleek ballerina bun at the top of my head. 

Mom wants sweet and innocent? 

This should do the trick. 

Eyeshadow and light pink lip gloss are added to complete the look.  I glance at the clock on my nightstand and realize it’s half past seven.  Already the doorbell has chimed at least a dozen times.  As much as I’d like to delay the inevitable, I can’t put it off any longer.  From my closet, I find a pair of matching blue heels and slip them on before leaving the room and knocking on my brother’s door. 

Since Austin is dreading this party as much as I am, I’m confident that he’s still hiding out.  When he doesn’t respond, I crack open the door and peek my head inside, only to find him sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands tightly clasped in his lap. 

“Hey.” 

He glances up and gives me a tight smile before rising to his feet.  “You look nice.” 

“Thanks.”  I do a little twirl before stacking my hands under my chin and batting my lashes.  “Mom requested that I look as pure as the freshly driven snow.” 

He snorts out a disbelieving laugh before shaking his head.  “What the fuck is that about?” 

“Language,” I sing-song with a wide grin and his lips twitch. 

Austin plows a hand through his short dark hair.  “I can’t believe we have to do this.  It’s such a waste of time.” 

“I know,” I huff, dropping my hands.  “But it’s only for a couple of hours.  Maybe we can sneak a few drinks to dull the pain.” 

He sticks his fingers beneath the collar of his starched white shirt and yanks it away from his neck.  “This damn thing is choking me,” he mutters before popping the first two buttons.  “Fuck it, I’m not wearing a tie.” 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”  My gaze skims over the length of him.  Austin has grown into a handsome guy.  Maybe the girls at Hawthorne aren’t falling all over him like they used to at our old school, but I’ve seen enough of them eye fuck him in the hallway during passing periods and at lunch to know that they want to.  The navy suit only accentuates his tall, muscular build. 

“You ready?” I ask, only wanting to get this farce over with. 

“Nope.” 

One side of my mouth hitches.  “Well, I guess you’re shit out of luck then.” 

His dimples flash as a slow smile moves across his face.  “It might have taken awhile, but it’s nice to see I’ve finally corrupted you.” 

I roll my eyes and nod toward the door.  “Let’s go.” 

We’re midway down the staircase when the doorbell chimes and more guests arrive.  My mother hired a full staff this evening to make sure everything ran smoothly.  There is a valet to park the cars on the road, a man in formal wear to greet guests at the door with a silver tray of champagne, and servers to circulate through the party with drinks and appetizers. 

As my gaze roams over the crowd, I notice most people already have a beverage in their hands.  Mom’s plan to get the town trashed looks to be a success.  Who knows, maybe she’ll pull off the impossible and by the end of the evening, the Hawthornes will once again be in everyone’s good graces. 

A couple who look to be around my parent’s age step into the foyer.  A moment later, a younger couple trails behind them.  Wait a minute...is that Jasper? 

Ugh.

What the hell is he doing here? 

My hand tightens around the wrought-iron railing as I give my brother a bit of side eye.  By the way his jaw clenches, I’m guessing that his rival’s presence has not gone unnoticed.  I hope he keeps it together.  The last thing Mom and Dad need is him getting into a fight when they’re trying to prove how wonderful we are. 

As my gaze returns to Jasper, I realize Delilah is at his side.  Her blond hair falls down her back in a long shiny curtain.  Like me, she’s wearing a formal dress. 

When Austin’s footsteps stall and he lags on the staircase, I turn my attention to him with concern.  “Aus?”  When he fails to respond, I flick my gaze toward the front door where both couples are being greeted and offered refreshments.  “Is this going to be a problem?” 

“Nope.” 

As Delilah glances around, her blue gaze flickers over us until it becomes ensnared by my brother.  Another quick look in my twin’s direction has me wondering if it was Jasper who snagged his attention in the first place. 

Maybe it was the pretty blonde. 

Color fills the other girl’s cheeks as Jasper slips an arm around his date’s waist before steering her into the living room where most of the guests have gathered.  A predatory gleam enters Austin’s eyes as he watches the younger couple get swallowed up by the crowd. 

Uh-oh. 

A groan falls from my lips.  I don’t need twin intuition to tell me where this is headed.  Whatever devious plans he’s concocting will only lead to more problems. 

“I hope you realize that going after her is a bad decision.”  

His gaze becomes shuttered as a sly smile tugs at the corners of his lips.  “You worry too much, sis.” 

“I don’t think so,” I snort.  Delilah is exactly the kind of girl Austin usually goes for.  Now throw in that she’s Jasper’s girlfriend, and it’s a recipe for disaster.  I wouldn’t put it past Austin to use that poor girl to fuck with the first-string quarterback.  Although I hope I’m wrong about that. 

As we arrive at the bottom of the staircase, I search the crowd of strangers filling almost every corner of space.  It takes a few moments to spot our parents talking with a tall, dark-haired man.  I study the older guy and realize there is something vaguely familiar about him even though I know we’ve never met. 

Dismissing him, my gaze shifts to my parents.  Neither look very happy.  Upon closer inspection, both have tight lines bracketing their eyes and mouth.  Nervous energy wafts from Mom.  The muscles in my belly contract as an odd sensation creeps over my skin, leaving a wave of goose flesh in its path.  It’s the same feeling of foreboding I experienced earlier this afternoon. 

I’m about to point out our parents to Austin when he mutters, “I’ll be back in a few.” 

Before I have the chance to respond, he walks away, leaving me alone.  Everyone is socializing and appears to be having a wonderful time as they sip their flutes.  Like school, even though I’m part of the crowd, I’m still removed from it all.  I’ve been reduced to nothing more than a stranger in my home. 

It’s a weird, lonely feeling. 

From across the room, I watch as Dad lifts a crystal tumbler filled with amber-colored liquor to his mouth before taking a deep swallow.  Sheesh.  Him tossing back alcohol is a rare occurrence.  Once in a while, at the end of a long day, he’ll sit down and crack open a beer, but never hard liquor. 

Mom nervously fingers the gold chain adorning her neck as her gaze roves over the sea of people until it lands on me. 

Damn. 

Unconsciously, I take a step backward as she frantically waves me over.  Knowing there’s no escape, I suck in a deep, fortifying breath before pushing it out.  We’ve now entered the portion of the evening where I have to pretend to be charming and personable.  If for no other reason than to support my parents. 

Once I reach the trio, I paste a pleasant smile on my face as Mom slips an arm around my waist to anchor me in place as if she’s afraid I’ll attempt an escape. 

All I can say is that the woman knows me well. 

“You look beautiful, honey,” she whispers.  A slight tremble works its way through her hushed voice, and it strengthens my resolve to do everything I can to help make this party a success. 

We’re Hawthornes. 

And Hawthornes stick together. 

“Thanks,” I say with forced cheerfulness. 

Dad straightens to his full height and runs an agitated hand through his hair before adjusting the lapels of his black jacket.  “Perfect timing, Summer.  We were just talking about you.” 

Well, that’s not weird at all. 

Unsure how to respond, I flick my gaze at the man standing with them before thrusting out my hand for him to shake.  No one can say that my parents didn’t raise me with manners.  “Hello, it’s nice to meet you.  I’m Griffin and Eloise’s daughter, Summer.” 

There’s no answering smile in sight as he reaches out and grasps my hand.  His fingers close around mine, swallowing them in a firm grip.  “Keaton Rothchild.” 

Rothchild? 

“Kingsley’s father?”  No wonder he looks so familiar.  Now that I realize who he is, I’m able to see the strong family resemblance between them.  Both are tall, with wide shoulders, mahogany-colored hair and eyes.  He’s handsome for an older man.  It’s easy to imagine Kingsley maturing to look like this one day.  Although, unlike his son, there’s a coldness to him that seeps into my fingers before I’m able to pull them away. 

“That’s right.”  He gives me a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as his gaze rakes over me.  “I take it you two are acquainted?” 

Since I have no desire to share exactly how familiar I am with his son, I say instead, “We have first hour literature class together.” 

“Yes, I believe he mentioned that.”  There’s no warmth in the murky depths of his eyes as they continue to assess me. 

It takes all of my self-control not to squirm beneath his forthright appraisal. 

What is he searching for? 

“Your parents mentioned that you’re a four-point student.” 

“Yes, that’s right.”  Why would they discuss my grades with this stranger?  I give Mom a bit of side eye, wondering how something like that would come up in conversation.  They have never been the kind of parents who boast about their children’s achievements. 

“And you’ve been taking college prep and advanced placement classes the last three years of high school?” 

Sheesh.  They really have done a deep dive into my academics.  I find it difficult to believe this man is interested in my coursework and grades. 

Unsure what to say, I add, “So far, I’ve taken eight AP classes.” 

Dad pipes up with, “She also scored a—” 

Keaton shoots my father a harsh glare and Dad immediately falls silent before lifting the crystal tumbler to his lips again and draining the contents. 

What the hell was that about? 

My stunned gaze snaps back to Kingsley’s father when he says, “I heard you’re interested in applying to Northwestern, the University of Chicago, and the University of Michigan.”  I don’t get a chance to verify the information before he continues.  “What about something closer to home?” 

Again, I stare at my parents from the corner of my eye as my brain whirls in confusion.  I remain silent, waiting a heartbeat or two for them to jump in and save me from this bizarre conversation.  It’s only when their desperate gazes stay pinned to mine that I realize they have no intention of intervening. 

I’m on my own. 

“Umm, I hadn’t really thought about any other colleges.  Those have always been my top three choices and with my grades and SAT score, I’m confident about my chances of at least getting into one of them.” 

Keaton tilts his dark head as he contemplates me.  Unease pools in the pit of my belly as I shift beneath his unrelenting gaze, only wanting to escape his overbearing presence.  The way he continues to grill me makes this feel more like a hardcore interview. 

What exactly I’ve applied for remains elusive. 

“It might be something to consider,” he murmurs. 

Even as he raises his tumbler to his lips, his attention stays pinned to me. 

Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, I clear my throat and turn to Mom with a tight smile.  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Austin.” 

“Ah yes, the heir apparent to Hawthorne Industries.”  Keaton glances around as if expecting my brother to materialize out of thin air now that his name has been mentioned.  “I’ve heard so many interesting things about the young man.” 

Shock washes over me and I glance at my parents to see if they’ve detected the same snide tone, but their expressions remain impassive as if he has said nothing to give offense. 

Dad raises his finger at a passing waiter, signaling for a refill. 

Another drink? 

What the fuck is going on around here? 

Fed up with the forced banter, I slip from Mom’s embrace.  It takes effort to keep the smile pasted in place as I lie through my teeth.  “It was lovely to meet you, Mr. Rothchild.” 

“Please, call me Keaton.”  One corner of his mouth lifts sardonically.  “We’re neighbors.  I’m sure now that we’ve gotten to know one another, we’ll be seeing more of each other.” 

I truly hope not. 

“Take care.”  With a relieved breath, I move through the crowd.  The air inside the house has turned stifling with the amount of people crammed into the space.  Before I realize it, I’m heading toward the backdoor that leads outside.  I’m in dire need of fresh air.  After that bizarre conversation, I’ve earned a few minutes to myself.  It’s like my parents had given him my pedigree. 

Why?

Why would they do that? 

Unease slithers down my spine before I banish the peculiar feeling.  This party is unpleasant.  It’s nothing more than that.  In a few hours, it’ll be over, and these people will get the hell out of my house. 

No one bats an eye as I quietly escape through the patio door.  As soon as my heels hit the stamped cement, I pause and inhale a deep breath before slowly releasing it back into the atmosphere. 

Then I do it again until the tension leaks from my muscles. 

Better.

Much better. 

As I move toward the pool, I toss a glance over my shoulder at the lit-up house.  A feeling of dread crashes over me.  The need to run away pulses through me until it’s all I can think about. 

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I spy an oversized towel neatly folded on a lounger I had used earlier this afternoon for a dip in the pool.  As soon as the idea enters my head, I don’t bother trying to talk myself out of it.  I slip the heels from my feet and drop them next to the cushioned chaise before grabbing the towel and padding to the little spot at the back of the property I’ve claimed as my own. 

As I traverse the lawn, the noise of the party fades into the background until it’s nothing more than an annoying buzz.  I shake out the towel before arranging it on the grass and lowering myself to the ground, mindful not to stain or wrinkle the satin fabric.  With a sigh of relief, I stretch out, stacking my hands behind my head as I relax onto the thick cotton material and stare at the black stretch of canvas overhead.  My body loses its rigidity as I pick out constellations. 

I always begin with the North Star.  Then the Little Dipper before moving on to the Big Dipper.  With each familiar cluster of lights, my unease dissipates. 

There’s Cygnus which looks like a giant cross or maybe a bird flying through the sky.  It’s one of my favorites.  I shift my gaze, continuing to search for arrangements.  There’s Delphinus, which means dolphin.  To me, it looks more like a trapezoid or kite with a tail. 

Now that everything has calmed, I have even less desire to return to the party.  Would my parents really miss me if I stayed out here for the rest of the night?  With so many people squashed in there, they probably won’t realize I’ve slipped away. 

The atmosphere changes, becoming charged and I sense his presence long before I see him walking across the lawn.  I twist my head until my gaze can rake over him in the darkness.  Even with the suit jacket thrown over his shoulder, he’s still ridiculously handsome in his starched white button-down and perfectly pressed black pants. 

Kingsley Rothchild is much too attractive for his own good. 

Mine as well. 

Without a word, he drops beside me before lifting his hand and gently tracing his index finger over my lower lip.  That’s all it takes for a shiver of need to arrow through me before settling in my core. 

“Do you have an answer for me?”