“Drink up, honey.” Madison raises her voice and a glass of champagne.
My shoulders slump. “Madison, it’s barely eleven in the morning.”
“And I’m sure it’s five o’clock somewhere in the world.”
Trust her to say that.
I bite back a smile and sink into the hard back of the wicker chair.
We’re sitting under one of the gazebos in the garden overlooking the beach.
Madison arrived fifteen minutes ago. Denise brought us out here to a fine spread of sandwiches and delicious finger foods. As soon as she left, Madison pulled a bottle of champagne from her bag. It was supposed to be the celebratory drink she got the other day when we knew I wouldn’t be marrying Nathan. Now it’s a drink-away-your-sorrows drink.
I’m still not in the mood to drink, but I need it to calm me down.
“Come on, Aurora, don’t let me drink by myself.” She holds out the glass she poured for me.
I take it, smelling the scented bubbles. “If I get drunk, I blame you.” I pretend to scowl.
“Darlin, just be thankful for small mercies like pink champagne.” She raises her glass like she’s going to toast, then I realize she is. “To strength in tough times.”
My heart squeezes. Boy, do I need the strength of an army to get through the next few months. “To strength.”
We drink, and I allow the bubbles and the tangy taste to take my mind away for a few seconds.
“Good, right?” She smiles.
“The best.”
She picks up one of the mango and lime chicken sandwiches and starts nibling on it. “Good Lord, these are divine,” she drawls.
I take a triangle from the platter and eat one, and wow, it truly is delicious. “This tastes like heaven.”
“At least the food is good.” She nods and reaches for another sandwich. I do the same.
“Yeah. At least.”
“Have you seen his royal highness yet?” She shuffles in her seat, moving closer to the table between us as if we need to watch what we’re saying.
“No. Apparently, he’s away for the day, which is fine. I would prefer not to see him for as long as possible.”
“That’s completely understandable. I, for one, am still stunned to hell. Like literally. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. First, I had to get over the shock of you meeting the guy because, hello, it’s not every day you meet someone like Knight Grayson, then being told everything else… well, it’s a lot for a girl to process.”
“Try being me, Madison.” I rest my hands on the table.
“Oh, honey.” She reaches across and taps the top of my hand. “I’m so sorry. I truly am. I know this is tough, and a definite out of the frying pan and into the fire situation, but… maybe we can hope that it might not be so bad.”
I give her an incredulous glare, staring back at her as if she just slapped me with her bag. “Are you serious?”
“I’m just trying to be positive for you, and…please don’t bite my head off, but it sounded like you might have liked him back at the restaurant.” She gives me a careful smile, then purses her lips and gives me a narrowed stare. “It also sounded like more happened between you two that you haven’t shared.” She raises her brows, and curiosity fills her face as fast as light chasing away darkness.
“Enough happened between us to tell me he’s an asshole.” I dodge the spot-on accusation, giving my head a shake to rid my mind of the clandestine memory.
“Okay, asshole it is.” The careful smile returns, but the curiosity lurking in her eyes tells me she’s only backing down because she can see my state of angst.
I’m glad she is, because yes, I did hold back on what I told her. All she knows is Knight and I met at No. 11 and had a drink. I absolutely did not tell her all the sexy, crazy stuff I allowed him to do to me. Apart from being utterly embarrassed and humiliated, I don’t want her to complicate the situation anymore than it is by reading too much into what I did.
Like she is now. I, obviously, know I liked Knight when we met. I just want to forget I did.
“It doesn’t matter what I felt.” I gulp down the rest of my drink. “He was all a lie. Given what I’ve been through, I should have known better. You would.”
She would. Women like Madison don’t fall for such asshole trickery. She would have spotted his deceit straightaway and sent his ass packing before he could even say hello.
The fact that she isn’t commenting is proof enough that I’m right.
“Honey, it might be that I just have a little more experience with men than you.
So, please don’t be too hard on yourself.” She presses her lips together and retrieves another sandwich.
“I just wish I wasn’t at the restaurant that night. I blame that stupid letter from Montrose for sending me there.”
Madison wrinkles her nose. “Forget Montrose and that fucking Rachel. I pray that nasty bitch gets what’s coming to her..”
Madison was the last person I spoke to before I ventured to the restaurant on doom’s night. Before I even got down to the details of my rejection from Montrose, she guessed that Rachel must have had something to do with it.
“I’d tell you to fight, but there’s no point fighting for a place like that when they clearly never valued your hard work in the first place.”
“They’re under Rachel’s spell. Even if they valued me, they were probably scared because of what her daddy could do to them.”
“It’s just not fair.”
I bow my head briefly in unforgettable shame. “It’s my fault I—”
“Don’t you dare, Aurora.” She raises her voice. I lift my head to meet her intense stare. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. Scott was an asshole who never had to answer for his part in this mess. While you’re still suffering for it.”
“It looks like I’m going to be suffering for a long time.”
“Please don’t say that.”
“It’s true. At least for as long as Rachel wants me to.”
As it stands now, I have no one powerful enough to try to fight for me. When Rachel first found out about Scott and me, and threatened to destroy me and my family if I ever thought I could fight her, I should have at least told Dad.
I only kept it from him because apart from being ashamed, I was still grieving for Mom, and Dad had gone into meltdown mode. Back then, he was barely talking. I doubted he even factored in that I was mad at him because he was a mess. Now I’m alone, and the future of my career hangs in the balance of probabilities.
“There are plenty of other magazines you can work for. Montrose was just one of them.”
“Yeah, one of five who turned me down and my most likely prospect.”
“It’s not your most likely prospect.”
“You know what I mean.” A haggard breath leaves my lips. “I thought it was a given that I’d get the job.”
“What about People Magazine?”
“I don’t know, Madison.” People Magazine was actually the dream, but, of course, getting a job there is incredibly competitive. I tried to apply for an internship there years before, but I never made it to the interview stage because I didn’t have enough experience. That’s how I ended up interning at Montrose and working with them over consecutive summers.
Last year, I registered for the job notification service at People, so I’d know when they were opening positions for staff writers. It was a long shot because such positions seldom, if ever, come up, but with the hold Rachel has on me, I’m not sure there’s any point in hoping I can even get an interview. People Magazine is the crème of the crop, but they’re most likely right in the heart of all the magazines Rachel’s father controls.
“The world is an ocean, Aurora. You mustn’t stop trying.” Madison’s spirited voice pulls me back from my doomed thoughts and anchors me.
I nod, agreeing. “I won’t stop. I’ll try not to stop.”
“Good, because I know your mama would be so upset with me if I didn’t tell you to keep going.”
I smile at that as it lifts my heart. “And I suppose she’d be upset with me if I stopped.”
“She’d be madder than a wet hen that was tossed in a river.”
I burst out laughing, and I can’t believe the sound is coming from me. After this weekend, I was sure I’d never be able to laugh again.
Madison laughs, too. “Knew I could make you laugh.”
“You always find a way.”
“Right, so, here’s what I think you should do: try to focus on one day at a time. At least you can get away from everything when you’re at Sunset Cove, and there’s nothing like decorating and renovating to take your mind off things.”
“Yeah. At least. Assuming Knight stays the hell away. Apart from ownership of the resort, I don’t know anything more.”
The shadow of worry touches her face. “Let’s just hope he wanted the ownership and nothing more. Owning a resort like that in The Hamptons is prestigious by itself.”
It is, but not for a billionaire who went through all sorts of trouble to get it.
I’ll try to find out. I have to. The six months of marriage is a stipulation of the inheritance rules, but that’s just for protection. The pressing matter is Knight owns ninety percent of the place, and when the six months are up, and we go our separate ways, he’ll still own ninety percent.
He could do anything with it.
Madison taps my hand again. “Stop worrying. Just stop and think of today as one day less.”
At least time is moving slowly but surely. “One day less.” But, out of so many more to come.
She nods and straightens. “Now let’s eat the rest of this delicious food and unpack your stuff.”
Today, it’s the simple things, but soon, I’ll be planning a wedding.
Last week, I was in the same boat, but this week, I’ve simply swapped one beast for another.
Madison stays with me for the rest of the day, and we manage to unpack all my things. By the time we’re finished, the room looks as if I’ve always lived inside it.
The shelves on the wall have my books sitting on them, the wardrobes are filled with my clothes and shoes, my computer is set up on my desk waiting for me to write the next chapter in my book, and the peony-and freesia-scented candle from Jo Malone makes it smell like home.
It’s late by the time Madison leaves. Late enough for me to head to bed, so that’s what I do.
Except, I can’t sleep.
There’s far too much on my mind, and I keep wondering if Knight is home. It unnerves me to think we’re in the same house, even if we’re rooms or wings away.
By the time midnight approaches, I’m even more awake than I was when I first tried to sleep.
Realizing sleep is a lost cause tonight, I get up and do what I often do when I have bad spells like this—head outside for a walk.
As my apartment was right near Central Park, it wasn’t uncommon for me to find a coffee shop that was open and hang out for a few hours with some hot chocolate. I started having more nights like that when I first realized what Rachel was doing to screw with me.
Cautiously and quietly, I leave my room and make my way down the stairs.
The house is as quiet as a church during prayer time. There’s absolutely no one around. Even if Knight is here, he’s not near.
With that reasoning, I head outside, walk through the gardens, and continue down to the beach.
It was beautiful to look at during the day, but with the bright full moon in the background and the silver light shimmering down on the surface of the water, it looks like something out of a fantasy.
The cool air and the sight of the waves inhaling and exhaling by the shoreline soothe me. I stay for an hour before I make my way back, but I choose to take the longer route instead. This passes the woodland area and the swimming pool.
Nearby are Knight’s private quarters.
I stop when I get there and look at the large section that’s almost big enough to be a separate house. In fact, most people would say it was, although the doors are similar to that of a barn.
I stare at it, wondering what’s inside and how anyone would think it was reasonable to get married to someone—for business or love—and not be able to enter various sections of their home.
It’s a little ridiculous to me, and right now, I feel like I’m being presented with two options.
- Keep heading to the left and go back inside the house or
- Go inside and check out the place.
As curiosity is practically begging me to select option B, I don’t see why I shouldn’t. To be fair, I wasn’t specifically told I couldn’t go in there.
I’m moving toward the door before doubt can take fruition in my mind.
I try the handle, and I’m surprised when it turns and the door unlocks.
I slip inside, and the automatic lights come on, brightening the entire room and revealing… a workspace?
A workspace with oil paintings of landscapes and sketches of angels on easels, and art supplies everywhere.
My imagination was filling this room with all sorts of things, from dead bodies to drug dealers, but I never expected to find this. I walk in and gravitate toward the nearest table, which has all sorts of art tools laid out on it and stacks of sketchpads.
I move deeper inside and through another set of doors, where I’m stunned to the core when my gaze lands on a collection of breathtaking figurative bronze sculptures.
There are twelve of them—a portion of a face rising from the ground with roots crawling up to the eyes, a beautiful mermaid with long flowing hair and her breasts exposed, a ballerina standing on pointe, an angel riding a winged horse, and the rest are of the same girl.
The largest is of her walking through the waves of the sea, carrying a rose with the petals falling off. The rest are of her in different poses, each with a rose in her hand.
There’s something gripping about the largest. The girl looks so real, I expect her to come over and talk to me or hand me the rose.
I’m having a hard time believing she won’t. I get closer, and the artistic effect is so potent, goose bumps erupt all over my skin.
Who did these?
Surely not Knight. He doesn’t look like the kind of person who would have the patience to create something like this. Or like he’d be this in tune with the world of art.
But maybe he is.
Maybe this is a different version of him.
Perhaps one I’ll never meet.
Ahead of me is another table that holds some old sketchpads and a photo album. I make my way over to it and open the oldest-looking sketchpad.
The first thing I see are sketches of a very beautiful girl who looks to be no more than eighteen, maybe younger.
She’s on every page with different poses. Each sketch is striking and holds its own beauty. It’s not until I reach the middle of the pad that I realize the girl is the same as the sculpture because there are sketches of it.
She must have been a real person.
I open the photo album next and get my answer. She is indeed a real person.
An incredibly beautiful girl with jet-black hair and bright green eyes and an almost angelic presence. The word Giselle is written at the bottom of the first picture, so I guess that to be her name.
There are pictures galore of just her. Some with her smiling and some with her posing. There are a few with her on the beach carrying roses.
The last picture is of Knight with his arm around her, but they both look like they were still in high school.
This girl must have been his girlfriend.
Where is she now?
From the amount of pictures, sketches, and the life-size sculpture, I can tell he must have not just loved her, but he was in love with her.
The sound of footsteps outside cuts into my thoughts.
Shit. Someone’s out there. And I’m in here intruding on what I now see is definitely private.
Anyone nearby will know that someone is in here because the lights are on. They’d be able to see it from the windows.
The footsteps grow louder and closer. Frantically, I rush back the way I came in, but stop when the door handle turns.
Damn it. I don’t want to get caught in here, and on my first day.
I look to my left and spot another door. If that leads outside, it will take me back to the terrace.
I make a run for it and dash through the door without looking back to check to see if the person came inside.
This exit leads me back outside, but even though I’m near the terrace, I’ve gone right into one of the prickly bushes. It’s so dark I can’t see properly to make my way out.
Eventually I do, but not without scrapes on my arms and legs.
Just as I’m about to make my way over to the terrace, a low, deep growl that sounded like the wrath of God makes me stop mid-stride.
Then three pairs of glowing eyes emerge from the darkness, covering my lungs in a sheath of ice.
My body turns to stone as they come closer into the moonlit path and I realize the eyes belong to three enormous Siberian huskies.
The three of them have thick black fur, glass-like eyes, and now they’re bearing their long, sharp fangs at me and growling louder.
When I first arrived at the house, I thought of it as a lair in hell.
I have that feeling again and I recall the mythical story of Hades and his three-headed dog, Cerberus, who guarded the entrance to the underworld.
I’ll be damned if this isn’t exactly like that.
The moment I think that, I see him. Knight Grayson.
He steps into the moonlight too, looking like an angry god.
