It got real cold, real fast.
Claire hands me the whiskey and a blanket, and we settle in on the couch in front of the fire. The light from the flames transforms everything in the room softly and casts an ethereal glow over her skin, showcasing her exquisite beauty. I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Why are you staring at me like that? What are you thinking?” she says, bringing the rim of the glass to her lips. She takes a small delicate sip, and her brows furrow.
I want to kiss her—every inch of her. I want to make her cry my name in pleasure—make up for all the lost time, for every moment I had to endure without her in my life. Her lips part, just the smallest bit, and I imagine what my cum would look like across them—between them.
“Forget it,” she says, shaking her head and chuckling. “I don’t think I want to know.” She gulps back the rest of her drink.
I’ll keep my mouth shut on that subject. For now.
I lean back into the cushions of the couch and clear my throat. “Who do you think it is that’s blackmailing you?”
Her eyebrows pull together again, “I have no idea.”
“Could it be one of your friends?” I ask cautiously. How could she have no idea?
She slides her tumbler on the table and gives me a sad expression. “I don’t keep many friends, Vaughn. I have major trust issues in that respect.”
“Out of the few you have then?” I continue questioning.
A slight sigh passes through her lips. “My closest friend is Maddie, and her family is very well-off, she wouldn’t have to shake someone down for money, all she needs to do is ask her parents and she gets whatever she wants.” Her shoulders pop up in a shrug.
I knew about the Maddie friend from reading through her text messages. I’m more curious about the Paul guy who texted her about some lesson plans. “Anyone else? A boyfriend maybe?”
“You really have a knack for insulting me, don’t you?” she mutters, shaking her head.
Huh? “I’m not insulting you at all,” I say in a shocked tone. How am I insulting her?
“I’m not seeing anyone, Montgomery, and if I were, what happened between me and you would never have happened,” she says dryly.
Ah, shit. I did not see that question from her point of view. I suck at this. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that you would have…that you’re the kind of…” I stop talking.
Maybe I should just shut the fuck up about it.
“Okay,” I say, blowing out a deep breath. “Let’s look at this from another angle…who knew about Silas and Libby?”
Claire stills as she thinks. “I’m not sure, really. I mean, I didn’t know. You obviously didn’t know.” Then her eyes suddenly light up, “Oh wait. Maria Lowell seemed to be in on their affair. She was here when I got here, putting some of my mother’s stuff in boxes.”
Ms. Lowell was here? “Really? What did she say to you when she saw you?”
“Um…What did she say?” she mumbles to herself, taking a moment to remember. “She was sorry for my loss. She was anxious to get down the mountain before too much snow accumulated, which I understand better now. She was afraid of me getting stuck here. And something about never feeling right about our parents’ arrangement.” She shrugs again and sighs low. “I really didn’t give her a chance to talk, honestly. I wanted her to leave so I could look for the accounts. And she didn’t want me to stay either, and the texts were coming through while she was here with me and she didn’t have a phone in her hands, so it couldn’t have been her, right?”
“Ms. Lowell’s been our housekeeper for more than twenty years, I’m sure she had to know about their affair. I’ll bet a lot of the staff had to help them keep the secret.” It’s crazy. All of this. All the lies. My father was a freaking asshole. “But I don’t think it would be Ms. Lowell blackmailing you either. If it were, she would have just looked for the accounts herself while she was here.”
She nods her head and stares into the fire. She says nothing else.
“What about Paul?” I blurt. I’m really not good at this prying, investigating thing.
Her head snaps back, “Paul? Paul who?”
She’s got to be kidding me. My knee starts bobbing. I don’t want to bring up the fact I went through her phone again, but how can I not? “There was one other person who you were messaging with on your phone—the contact was named Paul.”
Her eyes narrow. She’s definitely still pissed off I went through her phone.
“You mean Mr. Luger. He’s a colleague. He’s a little strange, but I don’t think it could be him,” she says, annoyed.
“Strange how?” I keep pressing.
“He’s…well…” Even in the dim light I can see her cheeks darken. “He seems smitten with me. I can’t see him doing anything like this.”
“Smitten with you? How does smitten and strange mix together in your thoughts?” Shit, my voice is too harsh, I sound absurdly jealous. No, I sound downright ridiculous.
She rubs her hands over her eyes and lets out another long sigh. “I don’t know really, it’s just, well, he sometimes shows up places I am, leaves little snacks for me in my classroom, things like that.”
“He sounds like a psycho,” I fume.
“That’s your definition of a psycho?” she laughs.
“Abso-fucking-lutely. He’s probably your blackmailer. I bet he even tries to swoop in at the last minute acting like a hero before any of those pictures get sent out.”
“And what if that isn’t his plan or it’s not him?” she asks. Her eyes glisten with tears. “My career is over.”
I lean forward, devouring the space between us. “I’ll make sure you get an even better job, Claire. I promise. If you want to continue teaching in private schools, I can send a huge donation in your name and we can—”
“Vaughn, stop,” she says, placing her hand over mine. “Montgomery money will never be the answer to any of my problems. Ever.”
She can’t be serious—I need to make her understand—I want to help her. I want to be there for her and see what me and her could be, together. “Claire, I…”
“You’re insulting me again, Vaughn. Please. Just stop.” She stands and walks into the kitchen, trailing the bottom of the blanket that’s bundled around her shoulders along the floor.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop,” I lie, raising my hands in surrender. I’ll call the private school Chloe and I attended growing up, and by the time I get off the phone with them, Claire will have the choice of teaching any grade she wishes, making as much money as she wants. She’s not the girl in those pictures. She didn’t know about our parents, then or now. I need to make it all right again, what it was supposed to be. I want to give her everything. I’ll show her I can give her the life she missed out on. I’m the one that will be her hero.
“I’m hungry,” she mumbles, staring into the dark pantry. “There’s not many appetizing choices here. What if we eat all these,” she waves a box of Ritz crackers at me, “and we run out of food?”