I ENTER THE HOUSE, immediately in search of Summer. I look for her downstairs, in her newfound haunts. The library, where I found her curled up in an overstuffed chair reading a book from my family’s collection. Or our favorite guest room upstairs, the one with the humongous bed, where I’ve fucked her endless times already.
But she’s in neither of those places.
I wander the guest wing, peeking into every open doorway, prepared to find her lying in wait. A smile on her beautiful face as she comes for me, whispering, “Gotcha,” before I sink into her willing kiss.
She’s nowhere to be found.
Her bedroom door is shut, and I sense she’s gone before it’s even confirmed. I suddenly feel hollow. It’s as if my heart stops beating as I wrap my fingers around the door handle, counting to three before I enter the room.
Her things are gone. There’s a pile of clothing in the center of the messy, unmade bed. The very bed which I fucked her in last night. There’s a piece of paper folded neatly on the bedside table with my name written in block letters on the front of it.
WHIT
Frowning, I open the letter to find it typed. Fucking strange.
I have to go. I realized this morning I don’t want to be with you after all. I know your life is mapped out completely, and there’s no room for me in it. And while I’ve enjoyed our time together, I know it won’t last. So I’m leaving now, before we hurt each other too much. You belong with Leticia anyway. She is your destiny.
I’m sorry I typed the letter, but my hands were shaking too much to write it. I found a printer in your father’s study and wrote this letter in my notes app.
Take care,
Savage
I crumple the note into a ball and clutch it in my fist as I exit the room. I don’t stop until I reach my mother’s salon, where I can smell her before I actually enter. How I knew she’d be in there, I’m not sure. But I certainly knew she wouldn’t be in the kitchen, preparing today’s family meal.
She can’t even cook.
I don’t bother knocking on the partially opened double doors. I just stride right in, tossing the balled-up paper directly at her head. She glances up at the last second, her mouth dropping open before the paper ball nails her right in the nose before dropping to the desk.
“Whit.” She sounds furious.
Good. We’re on an even playing field. Our emotions match.
“What did you do to her?” I demand.
Mother doesn’t even bother looking at the crumpled paper. “Which her are you referring to?”
“You know who,” I say between clenched teeth.
Mother sighs. Pushes the paper ball out of her way so she can rest her arms on top of her desk. “Darling. It was bound to happen.”
“What was bound to happen?”
“That your—whatever you want to call her would abandon you for someone else.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? What did you do to her? What did you tell her?” My voice is barely contained rage.
“She came to me.” I watch my mother sit up straighter, elegant as always. Completely put together, not a hair out of place. Nothing ruffles her. Not even after discovering her husband was cheating on her for the last ten years of their marriage with a variety of women, I never once saw her lose her damn mind or yell.
When she’s calm like this, it’s infuriating.
“Who came to you? Summer?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to tell you this, but she demanded money from me, or she said she’d go to the police and tell them you raped her.” She drops this bomb with utter calm.
I see red. Would Summer actually do that? “Raped her? Are you fucking kidding me? Let her go tell the police then! She was always willing.”
“Oh, I know. Trust me, everyone has informed me of your—dalliances around the house.”
I start pacing the salon, thrusting my hands in my hair, my mind awhirl with everything my mother just told me. I find it hard to believe. Only earlier this morning Summer and I woke up together, snug in her bed. Her head resting on my chest as I ran my fingers through her silky soft hair. We talked about things we were grateful for, thanks to the holiday, never actually mentioning each other, though I wanted to tell her so badly how thankful I am she came into my life.
I’m an idiot.
“She really threatened to report me to the police?” I pause in my pacing and stare at my beautiful, emotionless mother.
“Yes. Of course, she did. She asked for money and I gave it to her. Then she left.” Her gaze barely drops to the crumpled paper ball at her elbow. “I assume that’s from her.”
Realization dawns. I don’t believe Summer would ever do that to me. Not after everything we’ve shared. “I assumed the letter was from you.”
My mother is an excellent actress, I’ll give her that. She doesn’t even flinch at my accusation. “Why in the world would you think the letter is from me?”
I go to her desk and snatch the paper, smoothing it out so I can read it to her. “’She is your destiny.’” I send her a look. “You’re the only one who says that sort of shit.”
“Who exactly is she referring to? Leticia?” Mother asks calmly.
“Oh, what a lucky fucking guess. Yes, Leticia. And she signed the note Savage. She would never do that.”
“Isn’t that her last name? Isn’t that what you call her?”
Not anymore. Not like that. She doesn’t refer to herself by her last name. Ever. That’s my thing. She’s Summer. My Summer. “You wrote this.”
“I did not.”
“She didn’t try to bribe you.”
“She did. I gave her one hundred thousand dollars to walk away from you. That’s it. That’s all you’re worth to her,” Mother says, keeping her voice, her expression even.
“I don’t believe you.” I crumple the note and toss it at her again, but she dodges it this time, and it lands on the floor. “I’m going to look for her.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“I am. Fuck your little Thanksgiving dinner. I’m out.” I turn away from her, but she’s quick. She chases me all the way to the doors, inserting herself in front of me as she pulls them shut behind her. “Move.”
“No. You’re going nowhere. Dinner is in a couple of hours. Leticia and her family have just arrived.”
“You invited Leticia and her family to Thanksgiving dinner?” I ask incredulously.
“Of course I did. It was your father’s idea, truly. He thought it would be a show of good faith that you two are still committed to each other,” she explains.
“I’m not marrying her.”
“You are.”
“I’m not!” The two words burst from my throat, making it raw and I finally see a reaction from my mother. She presses herself against the doors, cowering. “I won’t marry her. I made that very clear to my father earlier. He said that was fine. It’s my life. My choice.”
“He was humoring you, darling. He knew what was going on between me and your little slut, and he was trying to distract you so we could get her out of the house without your interference. Trust me, you’re better off without her in your life.”
“How the hell would he know if Summer came to you and threatened you?” I ask. What she’s saying is completely illogical. And she knows it. I got her. The expression on her face tells me so.
“You bribed her,” I say as everything comes together in my brain. “You paid her off to get her to leave.”
“And she took it.” Mother lifts her chin, haughty as ever. “Didn’t even hesitate. What does that say about her character?”
“Move out of the way,” I tell her, my voice low.
She glares at me, but doesn’t budge.
“Mother.” I crowd her, putting my hands on her suddenly quivering, bony body. “Move.” I shove her aside and throw open the doors to find Sylvie standing there, spying on us, as usual.
“You have anything to do with this too?” I throw at her as I walk past.
She scurries along beside me, surprisingly able to keep up despite her supposed weakened condition. “Don’t make a fool of yourself over that girl, Whit. She’s not worth it.”
“I see Mother already got into your head,” I say, sneering as I start down the stairs.
Sylvie keeps pace with me. “She used me to get to you. Don’t you see it? She just wants our money.”
“Our money.” I come to a stop in the middle of the staircase, Sylvie stopping on the step above me. “Yes, she’s so fucking eager for my money, she was asking for gifts all the time. I never spent a dime on her, Sylvie. Not a single dime.”
“She wasn’t looking for it from you. Why do you think she came here with me? And what she must’ve realized when she did?” Sylvie waves her arms around, indicating the massive foyer we’re currently standing in. “Look at this place through her eyes. Look at it. It’s all we know, yet it’s wealth beyond what she could ever imagine. She wants a piece of that. A piece of us.”
“You shit all over her, didn’t you?” I ask, my voice low. Deadly. I love my sister, but I know how she can operate. She is a Lancaster, after all. “You were jealous when she chose me over you, and now look at you. Butt hurt and wanting to strike back. Not giving a shit if she has actual feelings. She’s a human being, Sylvie. You were her friend.”
“What, like you’re her boyfriend?” Sylvie arches a brow.
Breathing deep, I feel my nostrils flare as I exhale. “What Summer and I have, there’s no definition.”
“Uh huh. How convenient.” She thrusts her finger in my face. “She used me. And she used you, too. You just don’t want to admit it.”
I watch her practically skip down the rest of the stairs, calling Spencer’s name once she lands on the floor. I hear his answering call, the telltale sounds of laughter and glasses clinking, and she dashes off toward the sound. I’m sure they’re all socializing with our newly arrived guests.
Mother chooses that moment to come down the stairs, her narrowed gaze on me. “Touch me and I’ll tell your father.”
I roll my eyes at her but say nothing.
“And join us. Dinner will be served soon. You need to come visit with Leticia and the rest of her family before we eat.” She says the words like a command. As if I’m supposed to readily agree with her.
Once she’s on the bottom step, she turns to look up, her gaze raking over me from head to toe. “Do go change. You look like you’re ready to go for a jog.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter under my breath, but she doesn’t hear me.
Turning, I head up the stairs, but I don’t go to my room.
I return to my mother’s salon.
The doors are locked, and I shake the handles in frustration. One of the maids happens to exit Summer’s room at that exact moment, walking down the hall straight toward me. When our gazes meet, she stops in her tracks, her dark eyes wide.
“Do you have the keys?” I ask with a friendly smile. “I need to get in here.”
She approaches me carefully, as if she’s afraid of me. “That is your mother’s study.”
“I left my wallet in there,” I tell her, leaning against the door jamb and trying my damnedest to appear carefree. “She won’t care. I’d ask her to come open the door, but guests have already started to arrive.”
The maid chews on her lower lip, reaching into her pocket at the same time and pulling out a ring of keys. She’s been at the estate for a couple of years. I recognize her face. She’s nice. Quiet. Doesn’t cause any problems. The perfect employee, according to my mother’s standards. “Here you go,” she says as she unlocks the door.
“Thank you,” I tell her sincerely. “I appreciate your help.”
I step into the room, turn, and pull the double doors shut as quietly as possible. I scan the room, my gaze zeroing in on the desk. Remembering how I had Summer spread out on top of it yesterday afternoon, the sun’s beams shining upon her, bathing her naked skin in golden light. My mouth on her pussy, watching her writhe beneath me.
God, she was beautiful.
And now she’s gone.
The longer I stare at the desk, the more I realize…
There’s something in there.
I can feel it.
I settle into her desk chair and start rummaging through the drawers. I come up empty, finding nothing of interest at first. I’m about to give up when I open the bottom drawer on the left side, seeing nothing but hanging files.
Something tells me I should look between those files. In them. I thumb through them, one after the other, stumbling upon a thick, black book. A journal.
Summer’s journal.
My heart hammering, I pull it out and flip it open to find the familiar writing. The pages I’ve already read. I brought it with me as safekeeping. I didn’t want to leave it in my room back at the school, thinking it was smarter to travel with it.
That was my mistake. Of course, my mother went through my things. Of course, she found this. I’m sure she read every goddamn word and then used those words against Summer.
My mother is a conniving bitch. My sister is one in training.
Keeping the journal with me, I put everything back in place on my mother’s desk. Looking exactly as I found it. I slip out of the salon, locking the doors behind me, and make my way to my bedroom, where I hide the journal before I change clothes. Go to the bathroom and comb my hair. Wash my face. Splash on some cologne and smile at myself in the mirror.
It looks more like a grimace, but it’ll do. I can fake this so-called family dinner, and the minute it’s over, I’m out.
I need to find Summer.
If she even wants to be found.
