Mid- to late October
The night of the Elysium charity event
“PRESTON! SERENA! LOOK over here.”
Photographers shouted at us from where they stood behind a velvet rope while I led my girlfriend, Serena Carrington, down the red carpet ahead of Elysium’s latest charity event. It was a necessary evil, doing this whole song and dance, putting ourselves out there to grace the gossip pages that followed Manhattan’s elite, all under the guise of raising money.
That was part of it, but the unspoken role was that we were the next generation that would rule the city, taking after our rich and influential parents of the Elysium, the premier social club that wielded its influence over New York with an iron fist.
My fingers tightened around Serena’s as we smiled for the cameras, and I knew exactly what it was they saw when they looked at us. The perfect couple. Students at prestigious Astor University for now, but following in the footsteps of our parents—mine a longtime politician and current senator, and hers the owner of the top theatrical agency in the country. Our paths were already laid out for us, and we played our parts to perfection.
Serena squeezed my hand back, and kept smiling as she said through her teeth, “How long do you think it’ll be before they ask us—”
“When can we expect an engagement?” someone to our right shouted.
Aaand there it was. It didn’t matter how many times we answered or ignored the question—it was the one we could rely on every time we walked a red carpet.
Or saw my parents.
What I wanted to often say was along the lines of fuck off, but that didn’t suit the good-boy image I’d honed to perfection.
Thank God for the woman on my arm, the one who knew me better than anyone and also knew exactly how to move the attention elsewhere.
“We can’t give away all our secrets, now can we?” Serena said, and then blew a kiss for the cameras. She pushed us forward, toward the end of the red carpet, keeping that smile on her face, her long blonde hair down around her shoulders making her look like a Hollywood starlet.
“Serena, is that a baby bump?”
She sucked in a sharp breath, and my gaze shot to the asshole photographer trying to get a rise out of us.
“Too far,” I warned him. I tightened my grip on Serena, moving us off the red carpet and through the high wrought-iron gates of Elysium that led into a courtyard.
My tie strangled me, and I had to resist the urge to pull it off my neck as I muttered, “That fucking dick.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have had that extra slice of pie last night,” she joked, but that only upped my annoyance at the piece of shit.
I stopped walking, jerking us to a halt. “Don’t do that. You look beautiful.”
She lifted a shoulder, but her smile didn’t meet her eyes. “I know.”
“Seriously, they only say that shit to get in our heads. Don’t let them.” When she only nodded, I added, “Want me to go kick his ass?”
Her brows rose at my attempt to lighten the mood. “Really. You’re going to go kick his ass?”
“Hey, I could do it.” I paused. “If I brought Daire.” His scowl alone would send anyone running.
She laughed, a genuine sound that had my shoulders relaxing. I didn’t want her thinking about that stupid comment all night, so if I could help get her mind off it, I would.
“I think I might have a better chance at an ass kicking,” she said, a smirk playing on her pink lips. “These heels could be a weapon.”
I glanced down at the shoes she wore, the heels several inches tall and as thin as a spike. “On second thought,” I said, “have at him.”
Shaking her head, she looped her arm through mine and tugged us toward the entrance of the grand four-story building that took up half a city block on the Upper East Side. “You’re supposed to be the good influence here, not encouraging me to commit a felony.”
“Some acts of violence are warranted.”
As we entered the main hall, where chandeliers cast a golden hue over the multicolored marble floors and walls and elaborately decorated tables were set up with precision, the sound of hundreds of people milling about greeted us. I’d had a hand in putting the event together, always quick to volunteer before my parents could suggest me for the job, and with the hall filled almost to capacity, I could see that we’d nailed the aesthetic.
“It looks beautiful,” Serena said, taking a moment to look around. “You and dad make a great team.”
My eyes cut to the formal greeting line where the head members of the Elysium stood welcoming their guests, and there standing at the front of the line was her father—and the president of the Elysium—Archer Carrington.
The very definition of debonair, Mr. Carrington wore a tuxedo better than any man I knew. His dark blond hair was styled back from his handsome face, showing off his chiseled jaw line, and the smile he aimed at every person he greeted was one full of confidence and charm.
I schooled my features to a friendly, polite mask, knowing we were up next, and as Serena guided us forward, the nerves I’d felt out on the red carpet returned.
“Well, hello there, gorgeous.”
As her father reached for her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her cheek, I stood aside and watched the display of affection with a knot in the pit of my stomach, because I had a secret, one bigger than engagements or babies, one that would cause a scandal unlike any this city had ever seen.
You see, I was in love with a Carrington—just not the one I was dating.
“Hey, Dad. I was just telling Preston what a great team you two make. The place looks amazing.”
Mr. Carrington’s attention shifted to where I stood, and as our eyes locked, my pulse skyrocketed.
“I agree, we do make a great team.” He smiled then, and I struggled to return it. “I couldn’t have done it without him.”
I stepped up beside Serena, reminding myself I had a role to play as I wrapped an arm around her waist. “It was no problem. You know I don’t mind helping out.”
Mr. Carrington chuckled, and the rough rumble vibrated through me as he clapped me on the arm.
“I appreciate that. I know it’s the last place you kids want to be spending your time.”
Now that was a laugh. If he knew how quickly I volunteered to help out with every single event, he might start to wonder what the hell was wrong with me.
He’d never guess, though. The truth was nowhere on his radar.
“Are you kidding?” Serena grinned up at me. “Preston’s always asking if you need help.”
Unless, of course, my girlfriend decided to tell him.
Well, he still wouldn’t guess the truth. Just that I was a lame-ass with no life.
“I figure my parents will volunteer me anyway, so why not just save them the time.”
Mr. Carrington leaned in a little closer to me, and my heart just about stopped. Jesus, did he have to smell so damn good?
“And also to get on their good side?”
Yeah, sure, that sounded plausible. “You know it.”
He nodded and looked down the line to where my parents stood, then turned back to me and smirked. “Your secret’s safe with me. Does that mean I should sign you up for the Winter Ball?”
“Dad.” Serena rolled her eyes. “Come on, he just finished this.”
“It’s okay.” I squeezed her waist, letting her know it really was. Hell, it was more than okay, not that I was going to tell her that. “I’d love to help out.”
“Great. I’ll put it on my calendar and let you know when.”
I nodded and did my best not to smile like a lovesick fool, but seriously, more time with Mr. Carrington? Sign me up.
We finished making our way through the line, and once my parents had fawned enough over Serena, we grabbed a couple of drinks each at the bar and found the table that had been reserved for “the Park Avenue Princes,” as my group of friends and I were known.
It was the first time we’d gone to an event with other couples, since West had officially started dating JT, the dean of Astor’s son, and Donovan—better known as Van—was currently serving up a distraction by bringing his current interest, Kelly Sinclair, to show off. If any of the members here knew Kelly was actually a porn star that went by the name Sin, it would no doubt cause a massive scene, but both couples were currently keeping the heat off me and Serena, so I settled back in my chair, sipping on a much-needed glass of champagne.
From where I sat, I had a prime view of a certain someone’s table, a detail I’d made sure to arrange when helping with the seating assignments. It was pathetic, really, and I was glad no one else was privy to my inner thoughts, or they’d pity me too. Or think I’d lost my damn mind. Probably both.
Serena’s hand was suddenly on my thigh, giving me a quick squeeze, and then she leaned in by my ear, keeping her voice low and only for me.
“Did you see the guy who just walked in? Navy tux.”
I brought my glass up to my lips and casually looked in the direction of the entrance. The man didn’t look at all familiar, but that wasn’t why she was pointing him out to me. Tall, dark, and handsome, that was why. Whoever he was, he’d surely get the attention of many in the room, and maybe even mine if things had been different. If my entire being wasn’t currently focused on a certain blond man I still kept track of out of the corner of my eye.
“Not bad,” I said under my breath before taking a sip. “You should go for it.”
“I didn’t mean for me.”
“Why not?”
She smirked, her gaze moving to mine. “I’ve seen him before, and let’s just say I’m not his type.”
“Ridiculous. You’re everyone’s type.”
“And you’re good for my ego.” She leaned into me, grinning, and I once again found myself thankful for our friendship. To everyone else, it was a hell of a lot more than that, but Serena was my best friend, my confidante, and that went both ways. We were there for each other no matter what and didn’t hold anything back…at least, we hadn’t until the crush I harbored for her father had gotten a little out of hand. That wasn’t something I was dying to tell her, and didn’t plan to, since nothing would ever come of it.
The sound of chimes alerted the guests to direct their attention toward the front of the room, and I knew before looking who I’d find standing there.
Mr. Carrington kept his welcome speech short and to the point, managing to charm the crowd who’d paid an obscene amount of money to attend. Once the first course rolled out, he finally took his seat alongside the other Elysium board members, and every now and then I’d let my gaze travel to his table to see him smiling and laughing, though I couldn’t imagine what any of those uptight types could say that would be so funny.
That was the thought I was having during the appetizer when he looked up suddenly, his eyes catching mine and immediately relaxing into something familiar. I went completely still, but then he smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but return it. When he looked at me, it jumbled my insides and I had no clue how anyone around couldn’t see it.
“Oh fuck no,” Serena said, and for a heartbeat I thought she had noticed, that the last secret I’d kept from her was out, but no. Her attention was on someone approaching her father from behind, and her narrowed gaze said it wasn’t someone she liked.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not what, who.” She leaned in close and nodded in the direction of the man in the black velvet tux now stopping behind her father’s chair. He had shiny, slicked-back hair that was as dark as midnight, and it shone under the chandeliers. “Stuart Galloway. My dad’s ex. Ugh, this is so not going to end well.”
I narrowed my eyes on the man as he placed his hand on Mr. Carrington’s shoulder and leaned down to say something by his ear.
I tightened my fingers on my champagne flute and was surprised the thing didn’t shatter in my hand, as Serena’s father stiffened in his seat and turned. The charming smile from earlier fell from his lips as he looked up at this Stuart asshole.
“I’m guessing things didn’t end well?”
“That’s an understatement.”
I didn’t dare take my eyes off the two men, as Mr. Carrington pushed to his feet to greet the newcomer. Ever the gentleman, he forced a smile, and having studied him as closely as I had, I could sense the tension in him as though it were my own.
“What happened?” I asked, not only for Serena’s sake but my own. I wanted to know what kind of moron would end things with Archer Carrington, because if that had been me in his position, nothing on the planet would’ve stopped me from staying with that man.
“I don’t really know all the details, but from what I could gather, he didn’t like that Dad actually works for what he has. He was more about living a lifestyle than living a life. He wanted to travel and just have fun, whereas Dad—”
“Enjoys his job and works hard at it,” I finished for her.
“Exactly. So Dad ended things.”
My lips automatically curved at that little piece of information, as Mr. Carrington shook his head and put a hand on Stuart’s arm, guiding him away from the table. Whatever the other man was saying, Mr. Carrington clearly didn’t want others to hear.
Serena let out a sigh and took a sip of her drink. “This is the last thing Dad needs tonight. He hates people speculating about him and his private life, and Stuart knows it.”
Something about that really pissed me off. Mainly because I knew how it felt to have others look at you and wonder. Feeling like you were constantly under a microscope was exhausting.
“Oh shitballs…” Serena said as Mr. Carrington held up a hand and then stepped around Stuart to walk out of the hall. “Damn it.”
As Stuart walked over to the bar, I turned toward Serena, caught the look of concern on her face, and reached for her hand. “Hey, you okay? Do you want to go and find your dad? Check on him, maybe?”
“No, no.” She shook her head, her blonde hair falling all around her shoulders. “He would be mortified to know I’d seen them arguing.”
I could understand that—her father was a proud man. One who was usually suave and full of confidence. To know that anyone, let alone his daughter, had seen a crack in that polished façade would likely make whatever he was feeling a hundred times worse.
“But maybe you could go?” Serena suggested, and I almost choked on my drink.
“Me?”
“Yeah.” She swiveled in her seat and put a hand on my arm. “The second course is still being served, and it’d only take a few minutes. Maybe track him down and distract him with something event related so he doesn’t think I sent you.”
“Event related? Like what?”
“I don’t know.” She grimaced. “Maybe someone found a hair in their bisque.”
“Seriously? I don’t think that would make him feel better.”
“Okay, maybe not something food related.” She eyed the empty champagne flutes on our table, then the one in my hand. “What about something to do with the drinks? They’ve run out of Dom? What’s that, your second? I’m sure everyone’s guzzling it down. It could happen.”
As she talked about how I should go find—and console—her father, I drank my third, not second, glass dry, because there was nothing I’d like more than to make Archer Carrington feel better.
“Okay, okay. I’ll go find him.”
Her eyes filled with gratitude as I got to my feet, and something twisted in my gut—guilt.
“Thank you.”
I ran my fingers down her cheek, then left my date and friends, weaving my way between the groups of Elysium members gathered at their tables. I smiled and waved at several people who greeted me, but didn’t stop as I hurried through the hall in the direction I’d seen Mr. Carrington go.
I could do this. A quick checkup. Make sure he wasn’t consoling himself by getting blind drunk or thinking of hurling himself off the Elysium’s top-floor balcony. Then I could go back to Serena and tell her everything was fine.
Sure. No problem. But first, I had to find him.
I exited the main hall and through the foyer, and was about to head upstairs to his office when I heard a noise close by.
There were a couple of recreational areas off the east side of the foyer, cigar and billiards rooms, and as I started in that direction, I found Mr. Carrington sitting in one of the private alcoves that lined the hallway.
“Preston.”
Mr. Carrington got to his feet, and my eyes fell to the glass in his hand. I wondered if that was his first or second pour, and I figured that was as good a segue as any to get him talking.
“Needed something stronger than champagne tonight? I thought it was a fully stocked bar.”
Mr. Carrington blinked then looked to the glass in his hand. “It is. I just needed to toss a couple back and didn’t want anyone to see.”
That’s what I thought. Always the professional. Always the gentleman. There were plenty of members who would be fall-on-their-ass drunk from the open bar tonight, but Archer Carrington wouldn’t be one of them. Even if his moron ex had shown up to crash the party.
“No one would care,” I said, stepping out of the hall and into an alcove barely big enough for the clubman chair and side table that was nestled into it.
“Yes, but I would.” He let out a sigh, and something about the vulnerable response had me remembering why I was there.
“Are you all right?”
His eyes shot to mine, and his lips parted like a denial was on the tip of his tongue. Something in my expression must’ve made him change his mind, though, because he shook his head. “I guess you noticed Stuart.” He swirled the contents of his glass. “Just another reminder I’m going to end up old and alone at Christmas.”
As he threw back another mouthful, the buzz of alcohol had my ears ringing. My first inclination was to refute what he’d just said, because how the hell could someone like him ever think he didn’t have a long line of guys kicking down the door to get to him?
And I was the one there. With him. Not in a line, not behind a door, but only a few feet away, close enough I could take a couple steps forward and have my hands on him.
No. That was crazy. Don’t think about touching him.
My body wasn’t listening to my brain, though, because before I could stop myself, I’d closed the gap between us. I wrapped my hand around his on the glass, and surprise lit his warm brown eyes before they settled into something I recognized all too well, just not from him.
Heat.
I didn’t take my eyes off him as I gently took the glass from him and lifted it to my own lips. Was it wrong I wanted a taste of him any way I could get it, even if it was only my mouth touching the place his had been?
In the back of my mind, I could hear the muffled shout of “yes,” but the whiskey making its way down my throat washed it away. My heart pounded as his eyes dropped to my mouth, and I waited for him to move away—to realize we were too close, that the energy in the room had changed into something so full of sexual tension that my dick was thrumming with it, punching against the confines of my pants.
But he didn’t step back. He stayed right there, a breath away, watching me so intently I could practically feel his hands on me.
God, I wanted his hands on me.
I swallowed down the rest of his whiskey, licked the remnants off my lips, and stopped breathing when I thought Mr. Carrington—fuck it—Archer’s head moved toward me.
Maybe I’d been seeing things. Maybe it was all the alcohol I’d consumed in the short span of time we’d been here. Or maybe it was just that I wanted this man so goddamn much that I threw common sense aside and made a move.
“No,” I said, my voice resolute. “You’re perfect.”
I reached for him, curving my free hand around the back of his neck, bringing him forward those few precious inches until his mouth met mine.
The moment I felt the soft press of his lips, he went stock-still, but it lasted such a brief moment, not even a heartbeat, that I didn’t have time to panic that I’d made a mistake.
Archer’s tongue flirted along my lower lip, then slipped inside, and before I could even start to process…I was kissing him and he was kissing me.
A soft groan rumbled out of me, all of my pent-up desire for this man racing to the surface as I tightened my fingers at the back of his neck. I sucked on the tongue now plundering my mouth as confidently as everything else this man did and closed my eyes, never wanting this kiss to end.
This kiss that was unlike any other I’d had before.
This kiss that was obliterating any other I’d had before.
As the smooth taste of whiskey and Archer mixed into a potent blend, I swallowed it down, knowing I had no hope of fighting it.
Jesus. This was the last thing I’d expected when I was sent to track him down. He turned us in the alcove and my back hit the wall. Archer’s foot moved between mine, and I immediately shifted my legs apart.
How long had I wanted this? Too long to stop or push him away, that was for damn sure. So when his tongue rubbed against mine, my hips shot forward, and the erection he’d inspired rubbed up against his thigh.
The rational part of my brain was a distant memory now as I chased after what I’d wanted—no, craved—for years, even though I knew it was wrong. And when his hand moved between us and down over my straining pants, a throaty groan left him.
Fuck. Yes. Touch me. Please, keep touching me.
I would’ve begged him to, but that would require me to take my lips off his, and nothing short of—“Holy fuck!”—an outside voice intruding and making my world implode could’ve gotten me to stop in that moment.
Wait—what?
At the sound of my friend Travis’s shocked outburst, Archer and I froze. The realization that someone was witnessing this moment was a shock to all our systems.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck.
Travis’s eyes ping-ponged between us as his mouth tried to form words. But I quickly extricated myself from between the wall and Archer—Mr. Carrington—before the situation could go from bad to worse.
How in the hell had I let this happen?
Oh, I know—too much alcohol, Mr. Carrington looking at my lips like he wanted to taste them, and then my giving in and offering him that taste.
I needed to get Travis the hell out of there. I needed to work out some kind of explanation for everything, and I needed to do it all quick.
Mr. Carrington’s cheeks looked flushed, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol, the kiss, or being caught. But, not about to stick around and find out, I thrust the tumbler into his hand and hurried out to Travis, his jaw practically on the floor.
When I grabbed his arm and started to tug on it, Travis stumbled back a step and then turned.
“Was that Serena’s—”
“No.” I didn’t bother looking at him as I began to march him down the hall.
“And were you just—”
“No.”
“Wait—does that mean you’re gay?”
I jerked us to a stop in the foyer and turned to face my wide-eyed roommate and friend, and something in my expression had his shock turning downright devious.
“Oooh you got sooo many secrets…”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“But—”
“No. One.”
Travis bit down on his lip and narrowed his kohl-lined eyes on me.
Fuck me. I was so screwed.
“Okay, I won’t tell anyone. But you have to tell me everything. That includes all the juicy details.”
“I—”
“Everything, Preston. Or forget it.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you.” I let out a sigh and thought that at least I’d have someone to talk to about this. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone else.”
“Consider my lips sealed. But, um, one thing before I shut the fuck up.”
Oh God, what now?
“You might want to wait a couple of minutes before heading back to the table, or everyone might think you’re really happy to have ordered the langoustines tonight.”
His eyes dropped to the hard-on still pressing against my zipper, and I quickly covered it with my hands.
“Always figured you were packing, but damn, Preston. That’s impressive.”
“Really?”
Travis chuckled as he backed away toward the main hall. “Be nice to meee. I know your secret now, Mr. Abernathy.”
That was true, but two could play at that game, and Travis wasn’t half as good at hiding his secrets as I was.
“That might be. But I think I saw a certain photographer outside tonight. Maybe I could convince Caleb to come in and keep your mouth shut for me.”
That smug smirk fell from Travis’s lips and told me that the shot I’d fired had hit its mark.
“Low blow, asshole.”
“Just reminding you that I’m not the only one with secrets.”
Travis flipped me off and headed inside, as I looked down at my dick and willed it into submission.
I might not be the only one hiding a secret, but it was definitely the most scandalous.
