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Bella
Five years earlier
(Or really, Four years, 11 months, and ten days earlier. But who's counting?)
Bella sighed and fixated on the dozen Christmas trees lining the Astor mansion ballroom walls every few feet. Pretty, glittery LED lit trees, crisscrossed with gold ribbon and an ungodly amount of golden glass balls, sat against a backdrop of dark cherry wood paneling and the parquet floor. Her mother’s predictable, lifeless Christmas decorations.
In any typical year, the Astor Holiday Gala would have started the season of holiday galas in the greater New York area. By the second week of December, Lina could be rid of any trace of the wretchedly cheerful holiday.
With Bella heading off for her first tour with Frontier Doctors, her father insisted on pushing back the gala to the last possible second. The day before Christmas Eve. One party, dual purposes. More holiday cheer than Lina could stand in the mansion. Maybe the only good thing about this gala coming so late in the month.
The hem of her dress and petticoat brushed against her thighs. Bella would never admit that she liked the black halter dress her mother sent over. The lace top actually complimented her nicely.
“So?” Lucas asked, dropping a flourished metal rental chair behind Bella, then pulled up a second one for himself. "Did you find your..." He caught himself on his words. He couldn't finish that statement with something nice, like 'better half,' about Preston Warren. Not without gagging.
Bella smiled and saved him by saying, "MIA."
Her feet throbbed insolently. She tried to ease gracefully into the chair but ended up falling instead. After another loop around the party searching for her wayward Preston, the backs of those obscenely uncomfortable Ralph and Russo's gouged into the back of her heels.
The Astor Mansion had hundreds of hiding places where people could congregate away from prying eyes. Bella was fed up looking. She searched the dining room, library, study, and kitchen. In those few rooms, she'd stepped into a lot of things going on, and none of it involved her boyfriend.
Bella flicked off the back of one shoe; blisters and sores tore open as she let the shoe drop.
Trading her shoe for the glass of dark liquor in Lucas’ hand, Lucas bent, gently removing the other.
"You leave tomorrow," he commented.
The remark stung.
Yes, she left tomorrow, and her boyfriend was missing. He’d ditched her, and for what? A new client? Existing client? Something else?
Or did he go running when Lucas brought Bella her first drink of the night? Could Pres, as her boyfriend, really not stand Lucas that much?
All the man did was bring her a glass of her favorite bourbon. Or had it solely been Lucas’ presence?
Apparently, Preston couldn’t be cordial to Lucas for a single night. Not even for her.
Preston was her first best friend; since they were five years old. Lucas only picked up that title of best friend when Preston became too busy chasing other girls to be bothered with Bella. It would be nice if Pres remembered that.
"These blisters will be hell when you're on your feet all day." Lucas' thumb grazed the side of an intact blister, bringing Bella back from her thoughts.
She winced and took a large gulp of bourbon. "Yes, I am sure my mother cared so much about the wellbeing of my feet when she picked this crap out." Bella emptied the glass, shaking it at him. Lucas glanced at the glass and shook his head. "Come on," Bella whined, but Lucas shook his head at her again. "We both know that you, Mr. Holt, know how to treat a girl." Bella whipped out a dazzling smile, praying genetics granted her half the power her brother held in his smile. The man had to know she needed more alcohol to get through the rest of this party.
Instead, Lucas gave her a hard pinch on her toe, grabbing both feet and resting them on his lap, then asked, “Going to send out a search party?”
Damn. If Bella wanted more bourbon, she'd have to get up off her lazy butt to get it herself.
“Not at this late stage in the game.”
What was the point now? Guests were starting their gracious exits to Lina Astor. Her father, Eli, and Chris were both as noticeably absent as Preston.
Deep strokes traveled along her foot. Lucas hesitated at the top of her foot and said, “I heard a rumor you need a ride to the airport.”
Goosebumps broke out along her arms as his thumb traveled back down. The feeling faded as soon as he stopped at the bottom, waiting for her answer.
Whether from the alcohol or sheer disappointment, Bella's eyes glazed over. She stared into the empty tumbler forlornly and took a deep breath. "Pres is working tomorrow."
“Preston,” Lucas dropped her foot to ask, “is working? On Christmas Eve? Instead of taking his girlfriend to the airport?”
After a deep sigh, Bella said, "I don't know. Some big case? It's not for Astor Pharm?" The recently appointed 'Manager of National Distribution,' Lucas J. Holt, might have heard something in a meeting, and it just had slipped his mind until she asked.
But he shook his head.
The thought crossed her mind again that Preston had planned something huge for her departure. A kind of last-minute proposal at the gate. Everyone, and she meant everyone, expected the spectacle tonight at the party. And that was the only reason she'd worn heels and picked a dress from the wardrobe her mother sent, spent an obscene amount of time on her hair and makeup. All for Lucas, apparently.
Bella fiddled with her empty ring finger again.
Honestly, she didn't even know if she wanted to marry Preston. As a descendant of the historic Beaumont family, she was supposed to marry a guy like Preston Warren. Be an upstanding wife and not make waves. Bella Astor was supposed to be the complete opposite of who she really was. On paper, Preston Warren was the perfect husband for her...family.
If her grandfather were still with the world, he'd never have let her enlist with Frontier Doctors. Hell, she might not have finished her medical degree.
A thought struck Bella. “Let’s go get tacos! Let’s go to Otto’s! I’ll pay this time!”
“We went there for lunch!” Lucas laughed.
“Come on! When’s the next time I’m going to get tacos?”
Frontier Doctors wasn’t sending her anywhere where tacos were easily accessible.
"Plus," Bella said, giving him her best pout, "I need to apologize somehow for missing Christmas."
“That I cannot fault you for. Missing the Holt Christmas Extravaganza to go...wherever the heck you’re going and help people is a worthy cause.”
Last year was the closest she'd come to missing the Holt Family Christmas since meeting Lucas. Every year, the twins borrowed their father's jet to take Lucas home to Kalamazoo, and every year he invited them to stay and celebrate. To have real family time during the holidays. Something the twins hadn't gotten since they were five, maybe six, years old.
And for some unfathomable reason, last year she'd agreed to go with Preston to the Warren's family charity ball on Christmas Eve instead of going home with Lucas. Chris stayed behind in New York with Bella because...well, there'd been some flimsy reason.
However, Pres spent most of the time meeting new donors and benefactors and constantly pushing Bella aside.
After hours at the Warren Ball by herself, Chris whispered, “Dad’s jet is fueled up.”
“Where would we...?”
Chris planted his phone, screen lit with a picture of the twins flanking Lucas at the end of her nose. All three were bundled in layers of thermals and topped with waterproof coats and colorful beanies. Together, they held up a two-foot bass between the three of them.
“I have a desire to go fishing,” her brother said, then jiggled her.
That was funny, Bella thought. Chris rarely had a desire to go fishing. Ever.
“Ice fishing.”
As if she didn’t understand.
No, she got it. They were in danger of missing their yearly ice fishing trip with Lucas.
“I promised Pres.”
Why had she stayed at the Astor Gala for so long?
Honestly, she'd rather sit in a little tent with instant coffee, freezing her ass off with Lucas and Chris. Hours' worth of trading watch on their rods was far more appealing than the damn charity event for another second.
“And,” Chris added, “Pres ditched you.” Her brother had been utterly gleeful about ditching the Warren Ball as well as he pried the glass from her hand.
When Pres had found out she’d left the gala, he was so pissed she’d ditched him to fly to the middle of nowhere. But he’d ditched her back then, and he ditched her again tonight!
"Tacos and churros!" Bella exclaimed as she bounced on her seat, scooting as close as she could to Lucas, pleading with her eyes and a toothy grin. "Please. Please, please, please! Churros. Churros!"
“Okay.” Lucas laughed and tried to stop the bouncing, which was drawing more attention to them than he found comfortable. Lowering his voice, Lucas said, “I will agree to tacos and churros if you make one more pass to look for Warren. Man’s going to give me hell for taking his girlfriend either way. You can tell him I didn’t steal you.” He poked her cheek playfully. “I’ll go tell Chris and Eli we’re leaving.”
Bella was out of the chair, shoes in hand, and practically running through the thinning crowd of guests when Lucas caught her hand again. “One more thing. You, Miss Astor,” Lucas brushed her nose, “have to watch one more movie with me before you leave. And I get to pick a movie.”
“Movie?”
The evening was turning around! They wouldn’t finish their yearly movie marathon, but at least she’d have one more bright spot before leaving the country.
Lucas kept going, "You're going to sleep on the plane anyway, and Chris cleared our schedules tomorrow." That meant Lucas's flight home wasn't until the afternoon since Chris hated being up before 11 am on a non-work day (of course, he made an exception for seeing Bella off).
Then Lucas continued, “I think Chris had another surprise for you tonight. Ah. One more thing.” Lucas scooped up the shoes from her hand. “I’m confiscating these.”
Thank god, no more foot torture. She'd rather brave snow-crusted sidewalks barefoot than wear those shoes again. Lucas might piggyback her out to his car if she was lucky.
“Deal!” She pecked him on the forehead. “Ooooh, you’re the best!”
Bella ruffled Lucas' hair and hopped around the ballroom like a kid searching for their friends in a hide-and-seek game. Alas, Bella combed more rooms and found no sign of her missing boyfriend. Preston wouldn't have left, but there were many places he could be. Taking a call, working in a different study or even a bedroom. Preston knew the Astor mansion better than Bella at this point. There were entire wings she could go searching in, but she did not have the patience for that right now.
And she didn’t exactly care anymore, either. If Pres couldn’t be bothered to spend Bella’s last night in the states with her, she was determined to have fun.
Bella took the stairs two at a time.
Her mother's Christmas decorations only crept up as far as the landing on the second floor. Lighted garland twined around the handrail and abruptly stopped at the top. The plush runner in the second-floor hallway, a deep burgundy, made Bella's steps silent.
Her childhood bedroom was just up the hall, closest to the staircase. A hand-painted polka dot B from her door sat discarded on the floor in front of her room. Where the letter hung, a faint shadow was left behind. Bella picked it up and replaced the B on the door.
Bella paused at the door to listen for any noises over the party below but heard nothing.
She kept an eye on the hallway in the event any partygoers were sneaking around. When she thought the coast was clear, Bella opened the door to her room and backed in. Not bothering to turn on the light, Bella crept through the darkness. Her coat lay across the chair to her desk, past her rumpled duvet and pillows.
Really? Someone used her childhood room? They couldn’t have used Chris’? Less pink frills and ballet awards and more stench of his past exploits.
Whoever it was, they were passed out amidst an overpowering smell of alcohol. Bella finished crossing her modestly sized room (considering her parents owned a mansion), grabbed her coat, and froze. The guy groaned and turned over. A mess of dark hair stuck up. “Bells?” He moaned and shook the woman next to him.
Bella flipped the switch on her desk lamp. The harsh, tiny light flared almost as much as Bella.
"You asshole!" Bella screeched and considered ripping the desk lamp from the wall socket to throw at him. "You...you fucking asshole!" She grabbed frames from her bookshelf. "You promised me!" Each word was punctuated with a new frame careening across the room, ending in a spray of glass. "No! Cheating! You'd! Changed! Really?"
"Bella?" Preston flailed for cover. During a reprieve, while Bella took her coat, pulling angrily at a seam, Pres rolled out of bed, naked, which set Bella off again. Books careened across the room this time since she'd run out of frames.
They landed with a thunk and dented the wall. One bounced and broke a reading lamp.
The woman in the bed screamed.
“Bella?” Preston said and almost sounded confused.
Bella's duvet came hurling at her as the naked woman hopped out of Bella's bed and yelped, "You psycho!"
Holy shit. That black hair and tan and tone? Bella’s vision went red.
Vaguely, she heard people crashing up the stairs.
“Trish? You want to see psycho?” Bella had an entire shelf of books. She could show the woman psycho.
Arms grabbed Bella from behind, trapping her.
“You couldn’t wait for me to leave, could you?” Bella said. Then tried to pry whoever was holding her tight.
“Bella? I... You...” Preston’s words were drowned out by Bella again. “I thought...” Preston’s haze didn’t help his cause.
“Trish?” Chris said. And his voice was the only one Bella heard clearly.
The only voice that stopped her heart hammering in her chest.
“I can explain.” Preston rushed to put on his boxers and pants. “Bella, seriously. I thought it was y—”
"I should let Bells go," Lucas grunted, trying to keep Bella from pouncing.
When Bella broke down, and the fight drained out of her, Lucas pulled her to standing and drew her close.
Bella stifled sobs and clenched and unclenched fistfuls of Lucas’ suit jacket.
“Bells.” Preston’s use of her nickname broke her.
Bella reached around Lucas to the bookshelf behind Lucas, grabbed another small paperback, and twisted in Lucas' arms. "And of all people, you slept with Trish?”
Chris said, "Give me the ring." His ordinarily cool voice was downright arctic. "Trish, give me the ring."
"Christian. I can explain too." Trisha quickly pulled on her slinky, sparkly silver dress.
“There’s not a single explanation I’ll believe.” Chris held his hand out.
What? Did she mistake Pres for Chris? Pres was five inches taller, dark-haired, and had that stupid stubble he loved. Like the complete opposite of Chris. Chris was clean-shaven and dark blond. There was no world in which they could be mistaken for each other, no matter how drunk Trisha was.
Trish begged, “What? No! Christian, please.”
***
Present Day
The weight of that night almost five years ago hit Bella like a train. Raw anger twisted into hate that stayed coiled in her chest. Preston fucking Warren stood next to her and was — what? — trying to charm her? Five years too late for that.
The man that age eight promised he'd never hurt her. Age ten insisted they would get married one day. At sixteen, beat the ever-loving shit out of the first guy to ask her out because of some crazy rumor that started at their boarding school. At age twenty-two, he vowed not to sleep with another girl because he realized how much he loved Bella. And he didn't, as far as she knew. Six months later, Preston asked her out at her twenty-third birthday party.
And at age twenty-five, Pres slept with her brother’s fiancé. The rest of that night was an alcohol fueled rage that Lucas later pieced together for Bella on the phone after her first few weeks in Frontier Doctors.
Now, her nails dug into the glass, slipping along the smooth surface. Her own blood-soaked body slumped in the picture in her peripheral vision. Pres, about to say something else incredibly witty or charming, stopped short as the bright red liquid launched into his perfect, pompous, pretty playboy face. Red dye stained the entire front of his suit. An eerie, stunned silence took over the gallery.
Then shards of glass bounced from the floor at Preston’s feet.