His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I’ve managed to shock him into silence. Even the great Malcolm MacLaine has no retort, no snide order, no cutting aside. I’ve found his weakest point and buried a knife into it. He wants to see the women in his life as commodities, investment pieces, and bargaining chips, just like his father. They’re not his family, they’re assets on a list.
And what happens when a sister stops falling in line with the conditions of being a MacLaine? Or when a wife shows her true colors in front of a business associate? What happens when an asset becomes a liability?
“Don’t worry. I’ll show myself out.” I leave him to piece back together the shreds of his worldview. He won’t get far. I came here to destroy the MacLaine family. Now I understand there’s no point in doing that. They destroyed themselves a long time ago, devoured themselves from within and left the rest to rot. All that’s left now is to root out their poison from this place, this city, and the woman I love.
I just have to find her first.
Adair
The Past
I could kill Poppy. First, she can’t take a hint and plans this stupid party. Then, she makes me open presents for an hour while Sterling apparently drank with Cyrus, and now, she brought up his present!
“But my dad’s out of town,” I say to him gently. “I thought you would stay the night…” I hope the implication is clear. My offer still stands. I wish he hadn’t been drinking, but I can’t exactly blame him. Plus, I’ve been pumping myself up for this all week. Poppy knows this. I confided as much to her when I decided I was ready to sleep with him.
There’s a long pause. Sterling stares fixedly at me without saying a thing.
“Sterling—” I begin.
“Don’t bother,” he slurs the last words. “I think I better go, Lucky. You have enough new toys to play with.”
“I don’t want those,” I coax, wrapping an arm around him and pressing my body against his. “Let me make it up to you.”
His angry look turns blank, like his processing time has slowed, then he shoots me a crooked grin. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”
“It can still be like that,” I promise.
“How?”
“Follow me.” I smile and take his hand. We head out the main entrance and toward the pavilion, now empty and cold despite the gas heaters. Everyone really has moved inside. Instead of cutting towards the pool house directly, though, I head toward the pavilion.
“This your idea of private?” Sterling mumbles. “Where are the cameras in here, anyway?”
“There aren’t any,” I say brightly. If I can get him away from my friends long enough, I know he’ll come around. At least, I hope he will. “That’s why we’re here.”
He narrows his eyes quizzically, and for a moment the brooding stops.
The sides of the pavilion are still covered by roll-down canvases, tied together to form a temporary wall to keep the heat in—they’ll also keep curious eyes out. I undo a couple of knots and pull the canvas to the side. “After you, sir.”
“What am I? Alice headed to Wonderland?” He shoots me a sloppy grin, seems to think better of it, and replaces the look with a scowl.
“You’re not Alice. But I did plan on making a stop in Wonderland.”
He’s ducking through the opening, so I can’t read his reaction. If that didn’t cheer him up, probably nothing will.
I follow him through and we come out exactly where I planned, on a path winding between a garden and the garage. Sterling is walking ahead of me already, too far ahead.
“Stop!”
He turns slowly in the darkness. “What now?”
“That path has motion-activated lights. They’re wired into the security system.”
It takes him a moment to understand what I’m getting at. “Who lives like this?”
“Everyone I know, unfortunately.” I point to the tall hedge that walls the garden. “It’s through here.”
“Your Wonderland has a lot of gates, Lucky.” Before I can go any further, he grabs me and spins me into his arms.
For a second, I consider fighting it. I give in, instead. My body molds to his. I taste the sharp sting of whiskey on his tongue as a greedy hand moves from my hip to my ass. His fingers fiddle with my short hemline before dipping under it to fondle the curve of my buttocks. I’m so lost to him that it takes me a moment to process what he’s doing—it feels too good. I’m painfully aware that he’s touching me in places I usually only dream about. The floodlights wake me up, and I feel a cold rush of air against my bare skin.
Yelping, I jerk my skirt back over my ass. We must have stumbled back far enough to trip the lights, which means we’ve also tripped the security system. I reach for his hand to grab him and get him out of here, but he refuses to move.
“Now I can see you,” he says silkily. He yanks me back against him, and I realize just how strong he is. I can’t fight it. Not that I want to. This is what I wanted tonight. Just maybe with less cameras.
“We shouldn’t,” I murmur as his hand slips between my legs, bypassing the scrap of underwear I wore as a nod to propriety and dipping deep inside me. “Sterling!”
“Ask nicely.” He kisses my neck.
“Not here.” My eyes shutter despite my objection, my core clenching around his probing fingers.
“I didn’t hear a question,” he says.
“Can we please go to the poorhouse?” I pant, trying not to moan.
His tongue flickers
