The Reluctant Heiress: A Novella(31)

“Want me to take care of that for you?”

His hips twitch forward, seemingly without his permission. With a growl in his throat, he says, “Tonight. But be warned, I’m going to wreck you.”

I shudder in carnal anticipation and run a finger lightly down the outline of his cock. He tenses, and I look up to catch the tail end of a pained expression.

“No dealing with this.”

Sebastian throws his head back and laughs, loud and long. By the time he looks down at me, I feel drugged by the sound of his unreserved mirth.

“Oh, Candy, you kill me.” He pauses, eyes still laughing. “You want me to blow my load within five minutes? Fine. At least it will be accurate to the role play.”

I scowl and he laughs again, then turns on his heel and walks away. I watch him go, skin humming, heart thumping, and wonder what on earth I’ve just done.





20





The party is an eclectic mix, scuffed shoes blending with fine Italian loafers. Nearby, a diamond-studded society matron who consults Nona on party menus laughs at the jokes of Cliff Ernst, the mechanic who’s been working on the family’s cars since before I was born.

My dad sidles up next to me. “She’s well loved by the community, isn’t she?”

I nod, smiling. “You should pay her more.”

He chuckles. “She makes more than most CEOs I know.”

“Really?” I ask with shock. “Why the hell hasn’t she retired?”

My dad shrugs as he looks across the room. Spotting Nona chatting with Sebastian, his gaze warms. “I’ve tried to kick her out but she won’t leave. Anyway, she’s family. This house is hers as much as it is mine.”

I hum in agreement. “We’d be lost without her, probably.”

When my dad doesn’t reply, I glance over to find him looking toward the table of hors d'oeuvres. Following his gaze, I see a woman with pale blonde hair in a neat bob. Another assessment of my dad’s face—and the restrained emotion there—makes my stomach clench and drop.

“Is that Abigail? Mom’s friend?”

My voice comes out harder and louder than expected. Abigail hears her name and turns, blue eyes alighting on the two of us. She smiles broadly and excuses herself from her current companion. As she walks toward us, I search her face and eyes for signs of discomfort or guilt. There aren’t any.

I remember her as a sunny, happy woman with whom my mother shared secrets and mystifying laughter. I haven’t seen her since the funeral.

“Candace,” she gushes, kissing both of my cheeks, “you look so beautiful. You’re all grown up.”

I show her my teeth. “Nearly thirty.”

Her laugh is strained, her gaze flickering uncertainly to my father. “Bennie, how are you? What a lovely party.”

He nods stoically. “Thank you, Abigail. I’m doing well. Yourself?”

“You weren’t on the guest list,” I interject.

“Candace,” chastises my father.

Abigail pales; her smile holds but goes brittle. “You invited my husband. Chip Foley.”

My brows lift. “You’re married to the chair of the town board?”

“Nearly three years,” she says with another tense laugh, “though the election was just last year. We’re very happy.”

“I’m glad,” says my father softly.

They look at each other, then keep looking. Too long. Too intimate. Something… happens to me. White noise fills my ears. The delicate stem of the champagne flute snaps in my fingers.

“You need to leave.” The words are barely audible, utterly breathless.

Finally, my dad looks at me. “Candace, you’re bleeding!” He grabs the broken flute, sets it on a nearby table, and reaches for my hands. I flinch away.

Strong fingers grip my shoulders from behind. “I’ve got her,” says Sebastian. His hands keep me upright and moving. Out of the room, down the hallway.

He doesn’t stop until we’re outside, the backyard’s grass under our feet. When he turns me around to face him, I blink dazedly at his dark expression.

“It was her,” I whisper. “Dad had an affair—”

He nods. “I know.”

“What? How?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m so sorry, Candace.”

I step backward until his hands fall from my shoulders. I’m cold again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask haltingly.

Crickets sing around us. Wind teases through my hair. It’s a beautiful, clear summer’s night.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he whispers.

Tears blur my vision. “That must have been a hard secret to keep.”

His eyes widen in surprise, scanning my face as if he expected another reaction. I can’t blame him—I don’t exactly have a reputation for even temperament.

“I’m not mad, Bast.” I sigh, gazing toward the dark woods. “Scratch that. I’m mad, but not at you. It’s just… it’s kind of too much to process right now. I’m afraid if I try, I’ll fall apart again.”

“You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

Shrugging, I meet his gaze. “Maybe you’re right. Either way, I can’t go back in there or I’ll probably get arrested. Will you tell Nona how sorry I am?”