HEAT Vol. 3 (Master Chefs: HEAT Series #3) (6 page)

I
remained silent, trying desperately to hold onto any semblance of sanity.

“Say
it, Lilly,” he coaxed.

“Rial.”

“Say
it.”

“Rial!”

“Tell
me what you want.”  He pressed the tip of his cock against the opening that was
all too ready for him, but he refused to go any further.  “Tell me.”

The
sweet pain of it all, so excruciating, was too much to bear. 

“It’s
killing you, isn’t it?  If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were a
virgin, hungry for her first fuck.”  He looked at me funny.  “But you’ve been
with that boy, Bobby, a while now, haven’t you?  Haven’t you?”

The
mention of Bobby’s name was enough to slap the arousal out of me.  Though my
body still ached for him, my mind came to the forefront to take charge of the
situation.  “My relationship with Bobby is none of your business.”  I slapped
him off me.  “I didn’t come here for this.  I came here to get answers.”

With
his hands around my waist, he pulled me back to the bed.  “Babe.  Lilly,
sorry.  I was out of line.  Don’t ruin this magic moment over that.”

“You
were way out of line.”

“Sometime
the bad boy in me takes up too much space, but if you give me another chance,
I’ll make love to you like you’ve never known.  It’s all I’ve thought of since
finding you again.”  He sat me down beside him and plunged two fingers deep
inside me, touching a part of me that was electric and exciting.

I
wanted to melt into him, to succumb and give in, but, despite the desire that
quickly built up, I looked straight at him.  “Why did you accuse my father of
killing yours?”

His
fingers stopped moving and he quickly pulled them out.  “Damn,” he muttered. 
Without saying more and without looking back, he got up and left the room that
quickly turned cold.

Had
I gone too far?

Chapter 7

W
hen Rial returned, he wore a dark green silk
robe and tossed another one to me.  “Cover yourself.”

His
words and anger made me feel dirty and cheap, and I wanted to jump off the bed
and rush out, but I also want to stay to find out what was really going on.  He
must have known that I’d come to meet him to ask questions, that I needed
answers.

“I
didn’t mean to upset you,” I finally said.

“I’ll
get over it.  I’ve been dreaming of fucking you since the day I found you. 
This will only make the final reward all the much sweeter.”  He glared at me. 
“Unless you plan on always breaking the mood in that fashion.”

“Once
I have the answers I need…”

He
grinned and reached for my wrist.  “I know you want answers, but before I go
into a long and exhaustive story of our past, let’s eat.  All of this
titillating and cock teasing has left me famished.”

Food
had been the last thing on my mind, but as he led me to the expansive and
elaborately furnished formal dining room, my appetite grew.  The long polished
oak table was lined on either side with a dozen high backed chairs cushioned
with black damask was as inviting as it was imposing.  Three tall silver candelabras,
their candles ablaze, added warmth to the large, formal room.

At
the far end of the long table, platters of oysters, crab legs and other fare
steamed with appetizing aromas.

“I
didn’t think I’d be coming to a catered affair.”

He
scoffed at the notion.  “Cater?  You underestimate me, my dear Lilly.  I may
not have been born with the natural culinary skills Errol was blessed with, but
I can make something pretty elaborate and tasty when I set my mind to it.

Reaching
the end of the table, I took a closer look at the platters.  “If it all tastes
as delicious as it looks and smells, I’d say you could give Errol a run for his
money.”

He
seemed pleased by the compliment and almost embarrassed by it.

We
sat down, and the very first bite I took confirmed what I suspected.  “I’d say
that the art of preparing fine food runs in the family, Rial.  This is superb. 
The oysters are perfect, the seasoning of the rice is heavenly and…”  I took
another bite of the fresh green salad.  “I don’t know what you put in here, but
it’s magnificent.”

Eating,
Rial listened to my critique of his food with an air that bordered on
melancholy.

“It’s
a compliment, Rial.  Why the long face?”

“Missed
opportunities, I guess.”  He poked his fork around, but seemed to have lost his
appetite.

“You
have to taste these glazed carrots, Rial.”  I picked one up from my plate and
brought it to his lips.

Like
a pouting little boy, he looked at me, but kept his lips sealed.  His eyes were
drowning in sorrow and my heart ached for him.

He
finally took the small carrot.  “If life hadn’t thrown me a curve ball, I’d
probably be a world famous chef, too.”

“Is
that what you would have wanted?”

He
looked at me funny, considered my question for a moment then pressed a tight
smile.  “Perhaps not, but it would have been far easier than to have been
burdened with the family curse.”

“Curse?” 
Baffled by the use of such a harsh word, I was more curious than ever to find
out what had happened to our families.

He
gestured toward the platters of food.  “Don’t worry, Lilly.  I plan on being a
true gentleman, and that includes giving you the answers you came here for,
even if they are answers you might not want to hear.  Eat, then we’ll discuss
our ugly past.”

After
a
crème brulé
that I devoured despite my waning appetite, he led me to
the large family library.  Discreetly lit with hidden lights under each book
shelf and several antique lamps set about the room, the library invited guests
to peruse the shelves, pick out a classic and sit back to read in the comfort of
the cushioned chairs, or even the
recamier
that was set by the large
window overlooking the duck pond.

A
flash of memory struck me; reading Alice in Wonderland in my pink party dress
and a glass of lemonade.  But I shook my head.  It couldn’t be.

“Sit
down.  I have something to show you.”

I
gravitated to the
recamier
, enveloped with an odd sense of warmth and
well-being.  Rial sat beside me, and set a large photo album on his lap.

“That’s
this house,” I said, pointing to the photo.  “It’s this chateau.”

“Exactly.”

“But
the trees along this side are so small.”

“That’s
because this photo was taken a long time ago.”  He turned the page and I
gasped.

“That’s
me.”  I looked at the handsome boy beside the little girl.  “And that’s you.” 
Stunned, I stared at the photo.  “Just like in my dream,” I muttered.

“Here
we are in front of the chateau,” he said.  “And here we are running through the
maze.”

“Oh,
and that’s you hiding in the flower garden.”  I giggled as the vivid memory
came to me.  “So my dream… no wonder it felt so real.  No wonder there were so
many little details.  It was all true.”

“What
was this dream?”

“We
were running through the maze.  You were teasing me.  You were almost nasty to
me.”

“You
were fun to tease, but I never meant to be nasty.  It was all in fun.”

“But,
how, Rial.  When?”

“What
do you remember of this chateau?”

“This
chateau?”

“Don’t
you remember living in it?”

I
stood and looked out the window.  Beyond the duck pond I could see the flower
garden and to the left I glimpsed a portion of what had once been the giant
maze.

“When
I walked in here…”

“It
felt familiar?”

I
nodded.  “I loved coming to this room.”

“And
reading Alice in Wonderland.”

I
turned to him.  “How d’you know?”

“You
always had your nose in that book.  I even took to calling you Alice for a
while.”

I
laughed, remembering my childhood dream of finding my own rabbit’s hole.

“Why
do I have so many of memories of this place?  The maze… the garden… even this
library.  Did we spend a lot of time here?”

“Yes. 
You lived here, Lilly.  You lived here with your father.”

“And
why are you a part of so many of my memories here?”

“Because,
for a time, I lived here with you.”

“This
was my home?” I murmured.  “And you lived here, too?” All my memories, so far,
had led me to believe the chateau was a grand and wondrous place I’d visited,
not my home.  “If this was my home and yours, why didn’t we continue to live
here?”

“Because,
years ago, our parents ceased to be friends and became bitter enemies.”

“Why?” 
I felt a strange sense of loss knowing that our families could have had such a
falling out.

Rial
closed the photo album and leaned back.  “Before I tell you, I will go back to
the first tragedy that befell my family, that broke my family apart. In 2001 my
family were all supposed to go on a trip to New York.  My father had some
business to take care of and he’d decided to turn it into a family vacation. 
However, the business meeting was pushed back and for some reason, I couldn’t
go, since I was too young.  Errol, however, was a little older, so they didn’t
fuss.”

His
voice was so deep and morose, I couldn’t believe he’d make a fuss because he
missed out on a family vacation, as heartbreaking as that must have been.

“As
it turned out, me not going to New York turned out to be the best thing that
could have happened, in a way. At least my parents still had me.”

I
looked at him, totally befuddled until I realized the year he’d mentioned. 
“Oh, my God.  September, 2001.”

“Yeah. 
They were coming down from the first tower, when the first plane hit.  Still in
shock they watched the second plane come around and hit the other tower. 
Nobody really understood what was going on.  My father constantly called it the
most surreal chaotic thing he’d ever seen.”

“I’ve
seen it in special reports that played at the ten year anniversary.  Even
though it was on television, I found it surreal, too.”

“They
never thought the towers would crumble and fall, and when they did, they
weren’t ready.”

I
looked at him, shocked by what he was saying.

“In
the chaos, they lost sight of each other, but my parents found each other
first, and when the dust settled they couldn’t find Errol at all. For months
his photo was posted among the hundreds of photos of the missing.  Eventually,
they had to conclude that he’d been killed under the rubble that fell from the
towers, burned into ashes like so many of the poor people who either fell to
their deaths from the towers or were burned to death by the explosion.”

“But,
he wasn’t.”

“No,
as I’ve just discovered. I do know there were many families who never knew what
happened to their loved ones for years and still couldn’t find out who survived
and who didn’t.  So many people’s lives were wiped out in an instant without a
trace.  Errol was so young and just a boy then, and when he couldn’t find us,
he must’ve thought we’d all perished.”

I
nodded.

“In
any event, my mother never got over it.  She was like a ghost of her former
self, wandering the halls of our home with this constant vacant stare. 
Sometimes she would sit in Errol’s room for hours, hugging one of his jackets
and rocking back and forth.”

“That’s
awful.  I can’t imagine losing a child in such a way.”

“At
the first year anniversary, my parents divorced.  The stress of it all got to
them.  She blamed him for bringing them to New York to begin with, and he
blamed her for allowing Errol to come when he should have been in school.”

He
was silent for a long moment.  “I can’t say I was particularly sad to see her
go.  I know that sounds mean and heartless, but I just couldn’t stand to see
her look right through me anymore.  You see, I looked like Errol, but I
wasn’t.  I was a constant reminder of the wonder boy she’d lost.”  Turning to
look at me, his eyes were angry and filled with pain.  “A few months later she
hung herself.  They say she had a photo of Errol crumpled up in her hand.”

“Oh,
Rial.  I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t
be.  As far as I’m concerned, she died a year before that when they first left
New York without Errol.  After that, my father didn’t know what to do with
himself.  Suddenly, all the responsibility of what had happened fell on him,
and it virtually buried him.”  He shook his head and pressed a wry grin.  “I’d
always played second fiddle to Errol.  He was always the model they held up to
me, but no matter what I did, it was never enough.  You’d think I might have
caught a break when they lost him, that I’d become the favorite son, but no.” 
He looked at me.  “It’s impossible to compete against a ghost.  If anything,
Errol was set on an even higher pedestal than before.  And when my mother died,
I became virtually none existent to my father.  I guess I should feel grateful
that he at least had the sense to find me a good home to dump me in.”

“Rial,
don’t say it like that.  I’m sure your father had your best interest at heart.”

He
grasped my hand.  “Sweet Lilly.  Always so optimistic and ready to believe in
the best of people.  Always willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.”  He
grinned and kissed my hand.  “My father trusted your father.  They’d known each
other for years, since childhood when their families knew each other. From
ancient aristocratic families who have been close.  He knew that you father
would take care of me until he could get his head straight.”

“But
that was such a generous thing my father did for him… and for you.  How did it
all become such a mess?”

“When
my father picked himself up enough, his old friend, your father, gave him a
job, and even invited him to come live at the chateau with him and his young
daughter.  As things continued to go well at home and at the office, they
became partners, and we were promised to each other, as a way of strengthening
our family ties. Business was booming and they were both rolling in money.  Two
years later, however, profits began to dwindle.  Sales were up, but profits
were down.  They started arguing, accusing one another of making bad business
decisions.  Finally, your father came straight out and accused mine of
embezzling, of being a crook.  Mine turned around and accused yours of
mismanagement.  It all came to an end at a board meeting, right there in front
of everyone.  After that, your father kicked us out.”

“Where
d’you go?”

He
shrugged.  “Some hotel in town.  I’d never seen him so lost, and I was scared. 
I was afraid for him, and afraid for me.  What were we supposed to do?”

“What
happened?”

“I
guess my father didn’t know what to do either, so he tried to find the answers
at the bottom of a bottle of scotch, and when he didn’t find any, he looked in
another bottle.  When I went to bed that night, he could barely hold himself
up, but he still had a glass in his hand, and when I woke up the next morning,
he was dead.”

I
looked out the window in disbelief.  It was all such an unbelievable story. 
“Your father drank himself to death?”

“Yeah,
that and a broken heart, thanks to your father.”

“Rial,
that’s not fair.  Your father had been through a lot.  You said so yourself.”

“And
my father had survived it all.  But to be accused of embezzlement and a thief
of a company he worked so hard to build up, and by his closest friend; it drove
him over the edge.  My father was disgraced.  If your father had at least had
the decency to discuss it with my father in private, to just come out and ask
him what was going on, but no.  He had to accuse him right there in front of everyone,
and with some bogus reports that incriminated him.”