Page 24

He runs a hand through his sweaty hair. ‘Shit, I don't know. Are we really gonna expose her to that kind of danger? To Sauvage? Are we gonna let her see what the club is like? Are we gonna let her make Envy? Distribute it? Maybe get on the cops’ radar? I don't like any of this.’

I shake my head. ‘Me neither, but we've made our bed, and now we have to lay in it. There's nothing else we can do. If we don't let her in, she might just follow through and tell my father. If we don't let her in, we don't have Envy in time. The truth is we need her. She doesn’t know it, but she might just have saved our hides.’

I hit the bag some more, and, at some point, Mav disappears. I go at it all afternoon, pausing only for water. By the time I'm done, my arms feel like Jello, and I go back to the other side of the house for a shower feeling a little shaky, though I’d never admit it.

Afterwards, I fling myself on my bed trying to think of a way to not let Daisy in on all this, into this world, but I can't come up with anything. The evening rolls around, and I get dressed in my suit.

I make sure my hair is pristine, and, at seven o'clock on the dot, I'm outside my room waiting for Daisy.

I check my watch, and as I do, I hear her room open. I barely contain my gasp. She's fucking stunning! Her hair is pinned up in an elegant French twist. Her makeup is subtle and sophisticated.

The plunging sweetheart neckline of that dress is making me wish that I had chosen something a little more modest.

But there was a reason I decided on a dress that was for a grown woman.

It's because I want my father to understand that she is an adult and can make her own choices. If my father sees that for himself, he's more likely to take it on-board.

The forest green, crushed velvet shimmers in the light, and, as she walks forward, the slit up the side shows a moderate amount of leg as well as the light, antique gold shoes. She's wearing earrings, I see, but no other jewelry.

‘You look beautiful.’ I say, realizing I’m staring with my mouth open.

She shuffles in the dress a little bit.

‘It's very tight,’ she says, honestly, and I smile.

‘It's supposed to be. Can I see the back?’

She gives me a twirl, and I hear a muffled curse from behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see both Mav and Blake staring with ill-concealed delight, lust, and…something close to adoration.

Jesus, this girl could have all three of us eating out of the palm of her hand if she wanted and she has no idea.

‘Lu helped me with the makeup,’ she murmurs. ‘Is it okay?’

‘It's perfect,’ I say. ‘You’re perfect.’

I touch one of the little gold spirals hanging down from her ears.

‘I haven't seen these before,’ I murmur.

‘They were my mom's. She leant them to me the day—’ She breaks off. ‘Well, anyway, I had them.’

‘Oh!’ She turns around and goes back into her room, coming back with the wrap that matches her shoes.

‘Ready?’ I ask.

She side-eyes me. ‘As I'll ever be, I suppose.’

We go down the stairs, and plenty of the guys stop what they're doing to stare openly. I wave them away after we pass.

Fucking idiots.

I take her out to the Jag, and help her into the car. I get in the driver’s side, and we head toward my father's estate.

‘Now that there's no prying ears,’ I say, ‘tell me what you want.’

‘Money.’

She says it so simply.

‘How much money?’

She shrugs. ‘How much do I need?’

‘About ten bucks,’ I murmur.

She rolls her eyes at me, ‘I'm not a fool, Jack. Please remember that when you're dealing with me.’

‘I’m joking. I know you're not, Marguerite,’ I murmur, not taking my eyes off the road. ‘I'm just trying to figure out if you’re angling for half of all the profits, or a fourth, or what.’

She looks surprised. ‘A fourth is fine, so long as it covers the costs.’

‘What is it you actually want to do with it?’

She shrugs again. ‘I suppose I want to use it to be me, but I want to be able to make all of my own decisions. If that isn’t possible, then I'll leave. I can disappear. People do all the time. I'm sure I could figure it out.’

‘You'd live your life on the run?’

She glances over at me. ‘I would if I had to, but I don’t think I’d have to so long as I was smart. I've looked into it, and most of the mistakes people make are trying to contact people from their old lives. I wouldn't do that.’

I frown. ‘Well, you clearly have a plan.’

‘I just want my share, Shade,’ she murmurs, ‘and I'm sorry that I threatened to tell your dad. I wouldn’t have.’

I snort. ‘I think you would have if you had to.’

‘Maybe,’ she concedes.

She looks out the window and props her chin up on her hand, watching the shadows of trees go by in the darkness.

When we arrive at the house, she looks up at it in silence for a moment.

‘Was my mom happy here, do you think?’ she asks.

‘The truth is, I don't know,’ I answer truthfully. ‘She always seemed a little sad, even when she was happy. Maybe it’s because you weren’t here.’

She doesn’t say anything in response, and we go up the steps, Stevens opening half of the tall front door for us when we reach the top.

‘Thank you,’ Daisy says, quietly.

‘Of course, Miss Marguerite. I believe Mr. Novelle awaits you in the library. Dinner will be served shortly.’ He hesitates and then lowers his voice. ‘Should you still be interested in prior knowledge of the menu, I’m afraid the starter is prawns, miss, and the main, seabass.’

‘Ugh,’ she sighs. ‘Thank you for letting me know, Stevens.’

‘What was that about?’ I ask once Stevens has walked silently away.

‘He used to tell me, so I’d know in advance,’ she whispers. ‘So, I could prepare myself in case it was a nasty dish your dad had decided on to mess with me.’

That’s news to me.

‘You spoke to the staff?’

‘Sometimes.’

With my hand in the small of Daisy's back, I urge her across the parquet floor of the foyer, checking my hair in the ornate gilt mirror to the right. We go through the corridor and into the large library that my father had imported from some estate in Scotland. It's all wood paneling and Persian rugs with a large stone hearth he had dismantled and rebuilt for his house... and his ego. He loves this shit.

I hear the clink of glasses as we enter, and I’m taken aback when I realize he's not alone. There are three others present, and when I recognize them, my stomach twists.

Marcus Banderville, his father, Joseph Banderville the third, and his older brother, Joe Banderville the fourth. Only Martha Banderville and Marcus’ sister, Elizabeth, are missing. Their women aren’t allowed anywhere near the family business, I’ve heard. If that’s true, their absence is telling. This is a business discussion. But what type?

‘What the fuck are they doing here?’ I mutter, giving Marcus a narrow-eyed look I make sure he sees and wondering how much he’s told my father about what Daisy is actually doing at Richmond U.

Marcus knows she’s not an English major anymore. Is this an ambush for Daisy? My stomach feels like lead in my belly.

My father greets us, standing up from one of the high-backed chairs by the fire, and I pretend I know what’s going on. He’s all politeness and smiles, even to Daisy, asking her how she is and how her classes are going.

She answers him quietly and politely while not giving too much away, and I see the elder Bandervilles watching her with an interest I don’t like. But I have to hand it to her, the casual observer would never know she fucking hates my father as much as I do.

‘I didn't realize we’d be dining with the Banderville empire , Pop,’ I murmur, sneering at Marcus and not liking the shit eating grin he gives me back.

What the fuck does he know that I don't?

‘Must have slipped my mind,’ my father says almost jovially.

My father jolly? No, I don’t like this at all.

I glance at Daisy, and she must feel the same because she moves slightly closer to me.

Stevens is in the doorway before there’s time for any more questions. ‘Dinner is served, sirs, miss.’

I urge Daisy in front of me so that she's not alone with any of the others for even a second, and we make our way to the dining room. I’m glad that dinner is on time, because the sooner we eat, the sooner this is over and we can leave this trap my father has set for the Bandervilles, for Daisy, or for me.

Someone is getting the rug pulled out from under them tonight no matter what. I just hope it’s one of them .

John Novelle sits at the head of the wide, long table that’s capable of seating at least thirty guests. Joseph is to his left with his two sons next to him. I sit next to my father on the other side, and Daisy's next to me. Joe eyes her from across the table, his eyes dipping to her cleavage and I wish I’d bought her a nun’s habit with a stick-on unibrow instead of an outfit that’s made her look drop dead gorgeous.

The other men talk about cars and sports. Nothing important. I engage only when required and no one speaks directly to Daisy.

The first course is served quite quickly under silver domes. I put my hand on Daisy's leg under the table, and her hand covers mine. It's shaking slightly.

My father turns to me. ‘How's everything going at the lab?’

My father never asks me about school, not since I defied him and decided to go into STEM.

‘Great, thanks, Pop. It’s a cutting edge building, but of course you’d know that since you basically designed it,’ I rattle off, easily turning the conversation around to something that will assuage my father’s already inflated sense of self.

He gives a tight smile. ‘Of course I had a hand in it. Richmond U should be a beacon for the sciences. It needed a modern lab to compete with Princeton, so I made sure it had one.’

The lids are lifted off the entrees all at once by three members of staff and I look down at the shrimp cocktail. My father’s eyes are on Daisy, and he gives her a surreptitiously hate-filled smile.

‘I hope you like fish, Marguerite,’ he murmurs, though he knows the opposite is true.

She looks up at him. ‘I do. Very much, thank you.’

Jesus, those acting skills could rival her friend Lu’s. Even I half believe her. I frown a little at the thought. She’s a much better liar than she used to be.

We start eating. Daisy’s manners are impeccable, and my father is definitely watching. So, in fact, are Joseph and Joe specifically. Their eyes barely leave her. This is some kind of test, but I'm not sure of the reason for it, and I don't know what will happen if Daisy fails. Christ, I don't know what's going to happen if she succeeds.

Marcus barely looks up from his plate, but his brother’s eyes wander over Daisy boldly, taking in the dress. His eyes never straying too far from her tits, and I wish the table was small enough for me to kick him from under it, but he’s much too far away.

My father and his guests make more small talk, and I make sure my mask is as firmly in place as Daisy’s. No slip-ups. We can’t afford it.

The plates are taken, and I note that Daisy’s eaten most of hers, leaving a little in the bottom as per etiquette guidelines.

The next course arrives a few minutes later and my jaw tightens at the second fish dish. My eyes cut to my father, whose lip turns up very slightly, but Daisy doesn't balk. She eats it, though with each bite, she takes a sip of her water. The men have been given wine, I notice, but not her.

The conversation is irritatingly devoid of substance and by the end of the second course, I still have no idea why we’re here.

When the table is cleared away for a second time, a dessert is served. A lemon soufflé. It's wet and slippery, and I know she’ll hate the texture. This time, I see Daisy's eyes close briefly as she picks up her small spoon, but that’s the only giveaway that she’s not enjoying it. After a few bites, she puts her spoon down and takes a sip of her water, now dangerously low.

‘You don't like the dessert, Marguerite?’ my father asks.

‘On the contrary, it's lovely. Your chef has outdone himself. I assume it’s still Claude?’

My father’s lips tighten, a telltale sign he isn’t happy.

‘Yes, you must remember your mother loved his creations.’

‘Yes, I do recall,’ she murmurs, dabbing the side of her mouth with a pristine, linen napkin. ‘I think I've just had enough, thank you.’

He gives her an obscenely false, doting smile and I wonder if we're going to get to the crux of why we're here before Joseph dies of old age.

But then my father stands, and so do the others.

John addresses the Banderville patriarch directly.

‘Does she meet with your expectations?’

‘She certainly does,’ Joseph murmurs, shaking my father's hand. ‘Son?’

Joe nods, eyes looking over Daisy like she’s a prize horse. ‘I agree.’

Oh, shit.

‘What's going on?’ I ask, but I’m afraid I already know.

‘Haven’t you figured it out yet, Jack? Marguerite and Joe will be getting hitched.’

‘What?’ Daisy’s plate clatters a little as she stands, a look of horror on her face that makes my father smirk.

‘You’re going to be married to Joe Banderville in the new year, Marguerite.’

My father’s smile turns sinister as he looks at her.

‘Aren’t you going to thank me?’

I hope you’ve enjoyed the second part of Daisy’s story.