Betrayal Read online

  “Look!” She pointed at the screen.

  “Shit,” I whispered. My pulse was suddenly racing as my puffy eyes filled with tears. “Why? Why would he do that?”

  “I think if I remember what you told me, he said it was because of you. You make him break his own rules.”

  NOX- PRIVATE NUMBER was displayed on the screen of my phone with a telephone number below.

  “When?”

  Chelsea shrugged. “Probably when he had you in a sex-induced coma.”

  “Those don’t exist.”

  “They do…” She wiggled her eyebrows. “…if you have too much sex.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  “Comatose? Hell yes.”

  “No,” I corrected, “too much sex?”

  “Not if it’s done right.”

  Oh, Nox did it right.

  “I should delete it.”

  She pulled the phone away and spoke in a stage whisper. “Like hell you should. You’re not thinking straight right now. Don’t you dare delete that number.”

  “But we agreed to one week, no future, no past. This opens a door for a future.”

  Chelsea pursed her lips. “No, it doesn’t. It’s simply the door. Opening it would require hitting that little green icon.”

  “We said…”

  “He broke the rule.” She shrugged. “Maybe you should call him to yell at him.”

  “I can’t call him. I can’t.”

  “Fine, that doesn’t mean that you have to barricade the door. It’s not hurting anything sitting there.”

  Hesitantly, I put my phone in airplane mode, leaving Nox’s number where he’d left it. With a sigh, I laid my head back against the leather seat, closed my eyes, and remembered. I wasn’t sure my eyes would ever close that I didn’t see the sexy pale blue stare, the menacing one that left me breathless.

  “FORGET THEM, ALL of them,” Chelsea said, her voice coming through my phone loud and clear.

  Sitting cross-legged on the bed of my Savannah hotel room, I shook my head. I knew I was in Georgia, and she was in California so I knew she couldn’t see me, but I needed to move. I needed to explain. “I-I will. God! I can’t believe they did this. I really thought this was about my getting it early. How? How could they do this? I guess Alton doesn’t surprise me, but my mother?”

  “I mean what the hell? Did they really think you’d say, ‘Sure, let me just throw my dreams away’ and fall in with their plan?”

  I took another drink of wine. It was a cheap bottle from a drug store. On the way from the airport, I asked the taxi driver to stop. Sure, they had room service at the Hilton, but suddenly money was an object. It wasn’t like I was ever a compulsive shopper. I wasn’t my mother. My wardrobe was limited, but quality. That wasn’t for any reason other than habit. It was all I’d ever known.

  The wine I found at the store had two pluses: it was inexpensive and the bottle was big. I’d drunk this brand before with Chelsea, and while it didn’t exactly taste like the Montague private reserve, now that half the bottle was gone, I hardly noticed. One of the facts I needed to face: my days of spending more on wine were gone.

  Not gone. Postponed.

  If I could somehow stay in school, one day I’d buy the best that money had to offer. One day, I’d make Jane proud. I’d make me proud. Bryce said I’d be a lousy lawyer because I had standards. I disagreed.

  “Chels?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think I can do it? Can I be a good attorney?”

  “Hell yes!”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear as a smile curved my now-stained lips. “Bryce said I’d be a bad one. My mother doesn’t want me to ever practice. And then there was the senator.” My whole body shivered. “I don’t know if I can do the good-ole-boy thing.”

  “Honey,” she said, her tone mellowed, “they screwed you. Your family royally screwed you, and not the oh-that-was-fun kind of way.”

  “I do like that way better.”

  Chelsea laughed.

  The label of the large bottle of wine caught my eye. Under the large drawing of a foot, I read the words California Wine. Despite my emotional breakdown, my thoughts went to Nox and my smile grew.

  “I know you do,” she said. “You could always give Mr. Handsome a call. Maybe he knows someone. We never figured out whom he worked for. Maybe he has some New York connections?”

  I shook my head. “Let me get right on that. Hi, remember me? Charli? Well, first, that’s not my name, and, oh yes, my whole life was just flushed down the toilet. I didn’t call you when I was financially solvent, but now that I’m penniless, can you help me out?”

  “You’re making it sound like it’s a bad idea.”

  “It’s a very bad idea. If, and I mean if, I ever see him again, the last thing I want him to think is that I’m needy.” I lay back against the headboard. “I hate being needy. Alexandria was needy…”

  “Babe, you’re going to do this. I know you are. First, you’re not penniless. You have a full jar of those in your room. Second, you created Alex and Charli. You will…”

  I closed my eyes and listened as Chelsea gave me the pep talk I needed. However, the person I was seeing behind my closed lids wasn’t my best friend. The person who I saw had the palest blue eyes and chiseled jaw. He had hands that were strong but gentle. He wore the sexiest cologne, yet filled a room with the sweet aroma of musk and desire.

  I didn’t want to think about Nox, remember him, or dream of him. It just happened. Seeing California wines or the course number 101 made my insides tighten. Hell, just touching the high heels that had adorned the dashboard of the Boxster brought me to near orgasm. My vibrator had burned through more batteries than I cared to admit since we left Del Mar.

  Nox was a piece of my history, my past, and I had come to terms with that. In a way, that made him better. We’d never have a first real fight. We’d never betray one another or end up in a sad relationship like my mother and Alton. Nox would always and forever be my prince.

  Thinking about him was better than thinking about my family.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Chelsea’s question snapped me back to reality. “I don’t know. I was wondering if I could ask you a big favor.”

  “Whatever you want, you’ve got it. Do you want me to sell blood? I’m there for you. Eggs? I heard you can make a lot doing that.”

  “Stop,” I said with a giggle. “It’s not quite that dramatic. No selling. I draw the line at prostitution. No, it’s just that I don’t have my ticket for Palo Alto. The movers are scheduled to get my stuff on Thursday. I’ve already paid them so I know they’re coming. It might be better financially for me to go straight to New York. My mother mentioned that my cousin Patrick lives in Manhattan. I’m not sure where, but I’ve been thinking I could call him. If he’ll let me bunk with him until my apartment is ready… then maybe…”

  “I was listening. I really was. What was your question?”

  “Will you pack the rest of my stuff?”

  “Hmm, I’m not sure I can be trusted with your shoes.”

  I took a deep breath. “I love you, I really do. But if you touch the black Louboutins, I will have to kill you.”

  “No way. After what happened in those babies, I think you should consider putting them in some kind of glass case—you know, like the museums have?”

  “So?”

  “Yes, I’ll pack. First, call Patrick and be sure the plan’s a go. If it is, I’m going to miss your face. And I’m not leaving you alone in New York. We’re going to see each other again.”

  “I love you, sister.” She was the sister I never had.

  “Back atcha. Text me. Tell me what’s happening.”

  “I will.”

  Just saying my plan out loud gave it strength. Alton and Adelaide expected me to submit to their plan. They thought I’d fold. I’m not folding, not without a fight.

  I’d already paid the deposit and first month’s ren
t on my apartment’s lease, but maybe if Patrick had room… I knew my chances were slim. I wouldn’t have had an extra room. The one-bedroom apartment I rented on the Upper West Side was nearly three thousand a month. That was for one bedroom, a living room, galley kitchen, and small bathroom. Square footage was extremely expensive in Manhattan. Not many people had extra bedrooms. Then again, in order to keep my dream alive, I’d sleep on a couch for three years.

  Taking another drink of my California wine, I scrolled through my contacts. I hadn’t seen Patrick since Christmas of my senior year at the academy. At that time he was a junior at Pratt. I thought I remembered hearing that he’d returned to Savannah for graduate school. That was why I was surprised when Mother mentioned he was back in Manhattan. I obviously hadn’t done a very good job of keeping up on family happenings. Heck, he might not even have the same phone number.

  I couldn’t call my mother to get his contact information, and I wasn’t sure Aunt Gwen would give it to me—not if she were in on Alton’s plan.

  I said a quick prayer and pushed his number.

  Patrick answered on the second ring. “No way!” His excitement brought a ray of sunlight to my darkened spirit.

  “You are still alive,” I said.

  “Oh little cousin, I’m alive and kicking. Did I hear you’re going to Columbia soon?”

  “You did.” Aunt Gwen must do a better job of keeping him informed than my mother did me.

  “And after all this time, I’m going to get to see all-grown-up Alexandria?”

  “Alex.”

  “Oh, excuse me…Alex.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry. I just left the manor and I’m a little touchy.”

  “Yeah, that place can do that to people. It has Uncle Alton in a constant state of pissiness.”

  I laughed. “He’s pissy even when he’s out of town.”

  “No shit! What’s going on with you?”

  We talked about everything, except the reason I left Montague Manor and the reason I called. We talked about school and graduate school. He talked about interior design and how he was currently doing an internship with a well-known design firm in the business district. He said the name, but I didn’t know much about interior design and had never heard of it.

  It was when he said he lived on the Upper East Side that I perked up.

  “Wow,” I tried not to be too excited. “Pat, that’s not far from Columbia.”

  “Other side of the park. I can probably see the buildings from my window. Great view.”

  “I can’t imagine how much a place like that costs. I have a deposit on a one-bedroom on the Upper West Side, not far from the campus.”

  “Girl, we’ll be close. I’m so glad you called.”

  I sucked in a breath. “God, Pat, I hate to ask this, but my apartment won’t be ready for another week, and I was wondering…” I let my words trail away.

  “Umm, when were you thinking?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Whatever Patrick was drinking must have sprayed the walls of his fancy-addressed apartment. From my end, I only heard him choking and sputtering. “That’s not a lot of heads up. Let me… let me call you back.”

  The little bit of hope I’d had left evaporated. “No. That’s all right.”

  “Little cousin, don’t be all like that. Listen, I know you’ve been all big and grown up out in California, but New York’s not Stanford. It’s also not scary. You lived eighteen years in that house of horrors.”

  He had no idea.

  “You can make it just fine here. Just like the song says, baby, If you can make it…” His impromptu rendition of New York, New York put the smile back on my face.

  “Pat, it’s fine. I’ll come up with something—”

  “No. I just have to check with my… roommate.”

  “What? No way. Is this a roommate or a roommate?” Patrick was always good looking. At the academy, even though he was older than me, I heard stories. He was well-known for his exploits: womanizer extraordinaire. Yet in private I never had that vibe. As a matter of fact, in private I had the opposite vibe.

  “You mean you saw my mother and she didn’t tell you all about it?”

  I shook my head. “No, but you know the Fitzgerald code.”

  Patrick laughed. “Well, they haven’t disowned me, but I don’t think they’re announcing it at parties either.”

  He was doing better than me. I had until the holidays and then I would be officially disowned. The hell with them. I’ll disown them.

  “Are you happy?” I asked.

  “More than I ever thought possible.”

  I sighed. I knew that feeling, briefly. It was the best. “I don’t want to cause any problems.” I really didn’t.

  “No problems. Let me talk to Cy. I’m not sure if he’ll be in or out of town. He travels a lot. I’ll call you first thing in the morning. One way or another: We. Are. Getting. Together!”

  “Thanks, Pat. Is this thing serious? I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Love you, sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  As I disconnected our call, the text message icon blinked wildly. I needed to text Chelsea and let her know that I’d reached Patrick.

  I didn’t recognize the number, and no name came up with it. My teeth clenched as I swiped the screen. Of course, I didn’t know the number: it wasn’t programmed into my phone. That didn’t stop the message from popping up.

  Unknown number: “ALEX, THIS IS BRYCE. DON’T DO IT AGAIN. DON’T RUN AWAY. THIS WAS ALWAYS THE PLAN…”

  There were four messages.

  Do I read or delete?

  I hit the little icon of a trashcan.

  Tomorrow.

  Tomorrow I was leaving for New York. Tomorrow I was starting a new life. Neither the Montagues, Fitzgeralds, nor Spencers were going to dictate my life. They didn’t own me. If they thought I’d simply give up my dreams because of money, they didn’t know me.

  They knew the girl they expected me to be. They knew Alexandria. Alexandria was gone. Alex was flying to New York tomorrow. She had a life to live.

  There were millions of people in New York who had made it there. I would find a way.

  WHAT THE HELL?

  The taxi came to a stop at 1214 Fifth Avenue under a canopy, upon a private drive. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Let me get your bags.”

  I trailed behind, my mouth agape as I backed onto the sidewalk, craned my neck up and up and up. The blue sky framed the glistening glass building. It was different than the traditional elegance I associated with New York and the Upper East Side. Most of the buildings were made of stone and brick with artistry and craftsmanship rarely seen anymore. This was the Museum Mile, Central Park, and all things refined.

  This building, however, was different.

  I passed through the opened door in utter awe; it was ultra-modern. As my eyes adjusted, I took in the large open lobby. The floor was bleached oak and there was a big desk in front of a lit ornately paneled wall.

  How did Patrick live here? He was an intern. I knew the Fitzgeralds and Richardsons had money, old money, but I doubted either Uncle Preston or Aunt Gwen were willing to pay half of the rent on a place like this.

  I paused with my suitcase near a large pillar and began to text Patrick. Just as I hit send, the elevator doors opened and I was swallowed in a warm embrace.

  “Alex!” He pushed me away by the shoulders and spun me around. “Look at my little cousin, all grown up.” His brows moved up and down as his gaze settled on my breasts. “All grown up!”

  I wiggled my brows back at him. Just like Bryce, Patrick had matured well. He wasn’t overly broad, but definitely fit. At about five-foot-ten, I guessed he was about one hundred and eighty pounds of muscle. His light brown hair had receded more than most for his age, but all that did was make his light brown eyes showcase his handsome face. “Not too bad yourself,” I said with another hug. He sm
elled divine.

  He reached for my suitcase. “Well, come on up. It’s not much… but we manage.”

  Once alone in the elevators, I asked, “Damn, Pat, this place is amazing. How—”

  He nudged my side. “Wait until you see our place.”

  He was right. I couldn’t do anything but hum and say things like wow, as he walked me around their three-bedroom apartment. We were on the forty-sixth floor, and the view from the windows in the living room as well as from Pat and Cy’s room was breathtaking. We weren’t next to the trees in Central Park—we were above them. From the window, I could see the park, multiple baseball fields, the lake… the view went on and on. “I bet you can see my apartment building from here.”

  “We can meet up in the park on Saturdays. Do you still run?”

  I shrugged, still too stunned to speak. Finally, I answered, “Some.” I had run at the academy. It gave me something to do and an excuse to get away from Montague Manor.

  Patrick led me to a bedroom down the hallway from the open kitchen.

  I’d seen pictures of the place I’d rented. My new kitchen was sufficient, but looked like it belonged in a shoebox or maybe a galley of a boat. It could fit into a corner of his.

  I walked to the window in my room. The view was of roofs and buildings, not as amazing as the other direction, but still impressive. If I leaned to one side, I could catch a glimpse of the park. “So,” I began with my arms crossed over my chest, “apparently they pay interns really, really well.”

  He put my bags on the bed. “Something like that. Do you want some lunch?”

  I was starving. I’d taken one plane from Savannah to Charlotte and another from there to LaGuardia. It could have been worse, but it all began very early this morning.

  I sat at the breakfast bar while Pat moved around the kitchen, cutting and dicing. By the time he was done, we each had one of the best-looking salads I’d ever seen.

  “And you cook, too,” I said with a wink.

  “Oh little cousin, I am a man of many talents.”

  “Tell me about Cy.”

  Patrick shook his head. “You tell me what’s going on. I called Mom last night after we got off the phone.”