ARROGANT BASTARD (21 page)

Bellamy takes the exit toward downtown Salt Lake City. We are most definitely not driving to South Dakota.

Maybe this is where Harold is picking me up? Maybe I’m getting on a plane and flying there? They wouldn’t take me to an airport, though. Too obvious. Too many opportunities to run, and you can’t force someone onto a commercial airplane without making a scene.

My palms sweat. I rub them against the front of my jeans. I’m sitting up now, paying attention to every detail, every turn. We drive another five minutes before Bellamy gets off on an exit, veers right, and pulls into and underground garage and into a reserved parking space.

I’m afraid to ask what happens next. This feels like a transaction, and of course it would happen underground. I’m being taken against my will and handed off, forced to marry someone I’ve never met.

“Get out.” Bellamy says lightly. She pops her trunk revealing two suitcases, though I only recalled Mom packing the one.

My nose wrinkles, and maybe the question is irrelevant, but I have to ask. “Why are there two?”

A man dressed in a black suit climbs out of a dark limo parked next to us, and I’m not sure how I hadn’t noticed it before. The windows are tinted and obscure, and I’m not sure who’s inside. For all I know, it could be Harold and his wives.

The well-dressed man walks around the car, opening the passenger door, and out emerges another man. With a fitted, navy suit and a long, skinny tie, he checks the chrome watch on his left wrist and flashes Bellamy a dazzling smile. This man, who looks nothing at all like a guy who’d be named Harold from South Dakota, steps toward my sister and grazes her cheek with his lips. “You’re on time. Very good.”

The driver of the limo grabs both of our bags and places them gently in his trunk.

My feet remain planted, digging into the concrete floor as best they can. “Bellamy, you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

She faces the man who greeted her. His dark hair is slicked into place with product, combed neatly and parted on the side. His rich cologne subtly fills the muggy garage air. He could easily fill the pages of a men’s fashion magazine if he wanted to, and he’s looking at my sister like she’s the center of his universe.

Bellamy inhales softly, her eyes lighting as they dance between the man and myself. “Waverly, this is my boss, Dane Townsend. He’s going to save us.”

***

The limo takes us across town to a sweeping estate on the outskirts of town. A guarded, eight-foot-tall gate protects this fortress, which from what I can see seems to be modeled after an eighteenth century French chateau. It’s mostly white with baroque ornamentals that I recognize from my Art History class.

A tree-lined drive sweeps us up toward a two-story porte-cochere.

The driver comes around to our side and pulls the door. “Welcome to Golden Oak, the estate of Mr. Dane Townsend.”

He takes our hands one-by-one, gently guiding us out to where a blanket of intricately laid herringbone marble directs us toward a staffed entrance.

“Welcome.” A man dressed in a butler’s suit holds the door open for us. “We’ve been expecting you.”

I try not to ogle too much, as I know it’s rude, but every square inch of this place is outfitted in marble, gold, and the most fabulous look-but-don’t-sit furniture I’ve ever seen. A Renoir painting rests above a marble buffet table in the entry, and there must be a hundred white roses sitting pretty in an extra-wide, crystal vase below it.

Dane walks up behind Bellamy, placing his hand gently on her middle back. She fights a half-smile, pretending his touch doesn’t affect her.

I know better.

“Mathilde,” Dane calls out. A middle-aged woman with gray hair pulled into a ballerina bun walks out into the foyer, her hands folded neatly at her hips.

“Oui, Monsieur Townsend?”
Her accent is French, her tone pleasing.

“Please show our newest guest to her room.” Dane hasn’t left Bellamy’s side.

Newest guest?

I follow Mathilde up a sweeping, winding staircase and down a long corridor, passing door after door until we reach one on the end. I swear we’ve walked at least a quarter of a mile just to get here.

“This will be your suite,” Mathilde says. “Bronson will bring your luggage from the car. Feel free to wash up, and then meet us in the dining hall for dinner by six o’clock sharp.”

Mathilde leads me into the room, which is fit for a princess. A king-sized bed with a million fluffy pillows anchors the room. Five floor-to-ceiling windows cover the far wall, and an en-suite bathroom is tucked away through another door.

“Thank you,” I say. Mathilde goes to show herself out, but I stop her. “Mathilde, can you please send my sister in here?”

“Yes,
mademoiselle.
”

I explore my surroundings, mesmerized at the way so much beauty can be crammed into one luxurious suite.

“Hey.” My sister stands in the doorway a few minutes later, a coy smile on her face. “Still hate me?”

“
What
is going on? I’m so confused.”

She shuts the door behind her, slinking across the room and climbing onto my bed. “Dad’s been planning to marry you off for a while. He was never going to let you go to college. I overheard him talking to our moms about it a few months ago, and then again, not long after Mr. Waterman came over.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’d have ruined my plan.”

“This was your plan?”

“You act surprised.” A hand slinks to her hip as her blue eyes dance. “It took a lot of careful forethought, and a little bit of sacrifice, but I waited for the right time and then I made it happen. We Miller girls were bred to be patient.”

“So, Dad thinks you’re driving me to South Dakota?”

She grins, like she’s just pulled off some mastermind heist. “He won’t know for another day or two that we didn’t make it, and by then, he won’t know where to find us. At least, not for a while. Should buy you some time to figure things out.”

“Where’s Jensen? Does he know?” I miss his voice, his touch. Not knowing where he is or what he’s doing kills me.

“He doesn’t know anything yet.” Bellamy tucks her chin, speaking slowly. “We had to be cautious.”

“You have to tell him where I am, Bell. He’s probably worried sick looking for me.” My hand clasps at my heart, pressing against the squeezing sensation in my chest. I never knew it was possible to miss someone this hard.

She tilts her head to the side, a knowing smile warming her face. “I knew you loved him. I knew you wouldn’t want to be away from him.” She places her hand over mine. “You’ll see him very soon. Trust me.”

Waverly’s car is still parked when I leave to fill up my truck Monday morning, and when I return, Gideon’s back from breakfast. He waits until Kath leaves the room before telling me Waverly wasn’t there this morning. Even at six years old, the kid knows something’s up.

I have to find her, and if I know Mark Miller, she’s long gone by now. But I don’t care.

I
will
find her.

And Mark-fucking-Miller will be sorry he fucked with me.

***

“Where the fuck is she?” I storm into the main house, damning Mark’s bullshit decree and demanding an answer from one of his brainwashed wives. “Where’s Waverly?”

Jane and Summer exchange looks. Neither making a sound.

“Jensen,” Jane walks up to me, placing her hand out as if it had the power to stop me. “You know you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Me being here is the last thing you should be worrying about right now. Where is she? What’d he do with her?” I push past them and charge up to her room. “Waverly!”

“You can’t be up there,” Summer calls. “Jensen, you heard the rules. Mark doesn’t want you here.”

She’s up here. I know it. Every ounce of me ignores their powerless commands.

Her room is empty. Her bed is made. Her stack of books rest on her nightstand untouched. I yank open her dresser drawers, most of them empty. Her closet is half-empty as well. When I return to the kitchen to confront Mark’s three accomplices, they’re nowhere to be found. Those fucking cowards are hiding from me. Mark undoubtedly gave them strict orders, anticipating this would happen. He might be a step ahead of me now, but I
will
find her.

***

“Liberty.” I storm up to the front desk at the garage. “Do you have Bellamy’s cell phone number? Her work phone? I need to reach her.”

Fuck. Right now would be a great time to know where the hell Bellamy works.

“Okay, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?” Liberty’s hand flanks her hip and she laughs.

“I need the number, Lib. I know you have it.”

“I don’t. She doesn’t give it to anyone. It’s, like, some kind of private line between her and her boss. I don’t get it.”

The phone rings and Liberty answers, scheduling an appointment with a client and then proceeding to casually shoot the shit. She twirls the cord around her finger, laughing, and then reaches for a set of keys. She drops them in front of me without so much as an explanation.

I flip them over to reveal a BMW logo. No other identifying information or so much as a house key accompanies this set. I arch a brow and mouth, “What is this for?”

She hangs up. “Bellamy came by yesterday and dropped these off. You’re supposed to get in that white BMW sitting out front, press the ‘home’ button on the GPS, and follow the directions.”

All the fancy blackout curtains and six-hundred thread count sheets in the world can’t calm a loud mind in the middle of the night.

I didn’t sleep a wink.

I can’t rest or relax until I see Jensen again. Bellamy assures me I’ll see him today, but until it happens, I can’t calm down.

Washing up in a bathroom fit for a king is a temporary distraction, and when I trek downstairs for breakfast, I find Bellamy seated on Dane’s right. He’s reading something on his iPad and she’s steeping a tea bag into a white teacup.

They wear the collective appearance of a couple more than comfortable together, one who have been together quite a while. I don’t ask in front of Dane. I’m not about to ruin this moment or prematurely outstay my welcome with a tactless question. I’ll get my answers from Bellamy later.

“Did you sleep well, Waverly?” Dane asks. He enunciates each syllable like a Harvard scholar, his voice rich and velvety.

I nod, taking the same seat I used at dinner last night. “Very well. Thank you.”

A uniformed woman brings out a plate covered with a tin cloche and sets it before me.

“I told the kitchen what you like to eat,” Bellamy says. “I hope that’s okay. I figured with everything going on, it’s one less thing for you to worry about.”

When I remove the cloche, I’m presented with a feast of French toast, sausage, and eggs over easy. A tiny cup of maple syrup rests warm between it all. “Thank you. This is perfect.”

Bellamy smiles, lifting her teacup to her lips, her pinky raised. When did she become so refined? Had she been changing before us all along and no one noticed?

The butler glides across the room with silent shoes, his hands clasped behind his back. He leans down, speaking quietly into Dane’s ear.

“Yes, yes, let him in. We’ve been expecting him.” Dane dabs his mouth with a napkin and stands up. “Waverly, I believe your friend is here.”

My heart sprints. It’s not quite been twenty-four hours, but it may as well have been a lifetime. I abandon my breakfast and run to the foyer, swinging the doors wide and stopping short at the porte-cochere where a white BMW comes to a smooth halt.

A second passes, then another, and another, until the driver’s door opens.

And then I run to him, jumping into his arms like he was a soldier who’d crossed land and sea to get back to me. He holds me up, keeping me nose to nose with him.

“Did you miss me?” I ask.

“Like hell.” His mouth claims mine with a single, unrelenting kiss, our bodies melded together with desperate longing.

He sets me down, but doesn’t release my hand from his. Our fingers lock. I dare anyone to try to separate us again.

“I think you love me,” I say, squeezing his hand and not trying to hide the smile in my voice.

“Shit, Waverly. I
know
I love you.”

Bellamy and Dane emerge from the foyer, and it’s only then I realize she’s wearing a white, silk robe, cinched tight around her waist. She glows, her cheeks rosy and her complexion warm.

Jensen leaves my side, approaching my sister, his lips turned up at the corners. “I knew it.”

Bellamy hangs her head, hiding a knowing smile. Dane steps forward, extending his hand to Jensen. “Pleased to meet you, Jensen. I’ve heard a lot about you. Shall we head inside?”

We follow Dane to a dark den just off the foyer. The two story ceiling rules over mahogany-covered walls, robust leather furnishings, and miles of filled bookcases. My eyes travel the length of Jensen’s muscular backside in an attempt not to stare at the opulence surrounding us.

My sister takes a seat on a sofa next to Dane, clasping her hands in her lap. Dane slips his hand over hers, his penetrating gaze observing us from across the room.

“You’re never going back there,” Dane says. “Part of the agreement I made when I promised to help your sister was that you could never set foot under your father’s roof ever again.”

His words are grave, bringing silence and a finality I wasn’t expecting. The reality of never seeing my family again catches in my throat, pinching my vocal cords and refusing to allow me to speak. Not seeing my father again, or even my mothers, I could accept. But my sisters and brother?

“This is the way it has to be.” Bellamy tilts her head, meeting my gaze with squinted eyes. “We weren’t safe with Dad. Our sisters aren’t safe, either. Someday we’ll go back for them, but for now? You and I have to move on, start a life that doesn’t revolve around the AUB.” She turns to Dane, nuzzling against his arm. “And Dane’s going to help us.”

Jensen sits in silence, though he hasn’t released my hand once. I turn to him, “What do you think?”

He nods to Dane. “I think your lives are about to change for the better.”

I face my sister. “What’s going to happen when they realize you didn’t drop me off in South Dakota?”

Dane smiles. “You won’t need to live off the grid, Waverly, if that’s what you’re worried about. My goal is to help you get on your feet, start your life. Your sister tells me you have a scholarship for the University of Utah?”

“Yes.” I squeeze Jensen’s hand. “A partial scholarship.”

“I’ve discussed this with your sister, and I would be honored to sponsor your education. However, you’ll be safest at a private college. I’m on the board of trustees at Greenley College. I can pull some strings to get you in last minute.”.

“Dane…” My hand lifts to my mouth. “Thank you so much.”

“Attend school, follow your heart. Live your life as you planned. You won’t be untraceable, but you’ll be harder to locate. Your contact information will be protected, at least while you’re at Greenley. And I can’t guarantee your family won’t be able to find you, but you’re an adult. They can’t force you to marry someone now. If they try to take you, it’ll be kidnapping. We’ll ensure your electronics and personal effects are outfitted with tracking devices. My gut feeling is that these won’t be necessary, and it might sound a little extreme, but it’s a safety precaution worth exercising, given the instability of your father’s mental state.”

“It’s not as scary as it sounds,” Bellamy adds. “They’re tiny little microchips. You’ll hardly notice them. We’ll put one in your purse, your car. And of course, you’ll get a phone.”

My pulse pounds in my ears. I feel like I’m in a James Bond movie. I don’t think any of that will be necessary, but knowing someone genuinely cares about my well-being and my safety is an unfamiliar sensation.

“What about the next few weeks? Until school starts?” Jensen clears his throat, sitting up straight. “Where will we live?”

Bellamy waves her hand. “Dane is taking care of everything. You’ll spend your final weeks of summer here, at Golden Oak. That will give us time to get you both on your feet.”

“What about you?” I stare at my sister, who suddenly looks so strong and womanly. She’s not quiet or caged; she’s radiant and confident, like she finally stepped into skin that fits.

“I’ll live here, with Dane,” she says, turning to him. His hand lifts to her face, cupping the side of her jaw. A million question stir inside me, and I count down the moments until I can be alone with Bellamy again.

“Mathilde runs the household,” Dane says. “If there’s anything you need, let her know. She’ll be in shortly to give you a tour of the grounds. Please, make yourself at home.”

***

Jensen showers in the palatial bathroom attached to my royal suite. I’m stretched out across the bed, letting the day’s events sink into my skin with an intoxicating drowsiness. My eyelids flutter before heaviness weighs them down.

Knock, knock.

“Come in,” I call out with every ounce of energy I have left. My lids peel apart just enough to see my sister ambling toward me. A tight black dress squeezes her feminine curves, and her hair is swept back into a polished chignon. Diamonds circle her neck and drip from her ears. I swear I’m dreaming.

“Hey.” She slips a dainty hand on her hip before doing a twirl. Her lips dance into a reluctant smile. “How do I look?”

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “Who
are
you?”

“Oh, stop.” She waves her hand, flicking her wrist where more diamonds rest in the form of a tennis bracelet.

“Who is Dane?” I realize I’ve been staying here almost two days now, and perhaps my question is a wee bit late, but it’s better late than never.

She fights a smile, as if the mere mention of his name sends her reeling. “He’s my boss.”

I arch my brows. “Just your boss?”

“It’s complicated.”

“He loves you.” I scoot back on the bed, folding my legs and resting my elbows on my knees. “That part is obvious.”

“It’s not that kind of relationship.” Her smile fades, evaporating the second she heard the L-word. “I don’t expect you to understand. It’s a… consensual, adult relationship.”

All this time I believed my older sister was chaste and true, perfect in every way. And it was all a lie. For that reason, I don’t believe her when she implies there is no love between her and Dane.

“Sometimes we do what we have to do in order to survive, and sometimes we surprise ourselves when we realize how far we’re willing to go to set ourselves free.” There’s a wistful drop in her voice, though a crystalline glint colors her irises. “Because of Dane, we get to live our lives exactly the way we want. No polygamy. No AUB. No sneaking around, hiding from the public. Our lives finally belong to us. This is freedom, Waverly. We’re finally free.”

The shower shuts off in the bathroom. Jensen will be out any minute.

“How’d you know about Jensen and me?” All those months, all that sneaking around—I thought we’d been careful.

Bellamy’s red lips part. She tilts her head. “Because you look at him like he’s the greatest thing in the whole world. Amongst other things…”

My cheeks flush, and I bury my face in my palms. It’s as if my diary has been left open for the whole world to read.

“It’s okay,” she says. “You don’t need to be ashamed anymore. We only get one life. If being with Jensen makes you happy, then that’s what you should do.”

A voice buzzes through speakers built into the walls. Of course this place would have an intercom, and of course it would be so well hidden in the décor, I wouldn’t notice it.

“Mademoiselle Miller?”
Mathilde’s French accent cuts through the room. “The car is ready.”

“Where are you headed tonight?” I take in another look at my sister, a perfect vision of glamour and refinement. She has transformed into a stranger, though one I’ll ultimately adore and respect.

She picks up the train of her midnight dress, revealing rhinestones covering the four-inch heels on her feet. “I’m accompanying Dane to a private dinner at an associate’s house.”

Bellamy oozes serenity and elegance, and I can see why Dane would want her on his arm. She steps toward me, slipping her arms around my shoulders and leaning in for a hug. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve hugged my sister in the last ten years. We’ve never been touchy-feely, and we’ve certainly rarely shared deep emotions or private moments like this. My eyes close as I breathe her in, her luxurious perfume every bit of what I expected.

“Have fun, Bell.” I hug her back, squeezing harder than I’ve ever squeezed anyone before.

She pulls away, gathering the silk fabric of her dress into her hands and saunters out, shutting the door behind her.

The bathroom door clicks open. “Can I come out yet?”

“Yes.” I whip around only to find Jensen standing in the doorway, a white towel wrapped around his waist. His body glistens, his hair sopping wet from the shower. Humid, soap-scented air escapes behind him and travels my way. I point toward a stack of clothes Dane had delivered, all of them in Jensen’s size. He has enough to last him the next few days as well as an envelope of cash, so he can buy more next time we’re in town.

Watching Jensen slip on a pair of boxer briefs, a white t-shirt, and a pair of blue satin pajama pants, a slow smile drags across my lips. He snaps the waistband of his pants and throws me a teasing wink. “It’s like we’re an old married couple now. Getting ready for bed together. Going to bed together.”

“It’s going to be weird sleeping together all night.” More importantly, though, I can’t wait to wake up next to him in the morning. “And the other night doesn’t count.”