The Peer and the Puppet (When Rivals Play, #1) (114)

You were never worthy of my strings.




Sunday came around, and I was more than ready for the weekend to end. I desperately needed the distraction school offered. I was in the family room eating my weight in carbs and sugar for breakfast while watching Marquez, Lorenzo, and Rossi battle for the lead in last Sunday’s race when Rosalyn sauntered in holding a royal blue dress in one hand and nude patent leather flats in the other. My eyebrows nearly kissed my hairline when she carefully set the items down and sat beside me.

“How are you, dear?” Those four words had been the most she’d spoken to me since our fight a couple of weeks ago.

“I’m okay.”

“I wanted to apologize for how I’ve acted. I may not think much of your dreams, but they are your dreams.” Gee, thanks. “Just please promise me you’ll be careful?”

“Seeing me race might ease your fears. Not to brag, but I’m pretty good.”

She stiffened at my suggestion and offered me one of her practiced smiles. “I think that would be nice.”

I was pretty certain she’d never step foot inside a circuit. Rather than voice my doubts, I changed the subject.

“What’s all of this?”

“I picked out something for you to wear to dinner tonight.”

Since when had dinner gotten so formal?

“You didn’t have to do this. I’m fine wearing my normal clothes.”

“The Montgomery family has invited us to dinner, and I’d like to make a good impression.”

I wondered if the churning in my stomach was from all the junk food I’d eaten or the idea of spending the evening being cordial with Barbie and her parents. “Could I sit this one out? I have a lot of homework,” I lied.

“Then you probably shouldn’t have spent the last half-hour watching TV, dear.”

I sighed and made a mental note to use the cash I won to buy a TV for my room. “What’s the occasion for the invite?”

“I have no idea, but I’m sure we’ll find out at dinner. Make sure you wear your stockings.” Oozing grace, she rose from the couch with a reassuring smile.

Shortly after she disappeared, I raced upstairs to Jamie’s room, leaving the frilly dress and shoes behind.

“Jamie!” I called as I pounded on his door with one eye on Ever’s. It was a big house and hard to tell when anyone was home, but I knew Jamie rarely rose before noon on the weekend. A few more seconds of knocking and the door finally swung open, revealing a sleepy-eyed Jamie with hair sticking in every direction, wearing nothing but red boxer shorts and a sock on his left foot.

“Yeah?”

I shoved past him and waited for him to shut the door just in case Ever was home. “Know anything about dinner with the Montgomery’s?”

He scratched his defined abs and yawned. “What?”

“We’re having dinner with them tonight.”

The news seemed to rouse him finally.

“The fuck?” He padded over to his bed and searched around the covers until he found his phone. I watched him sit and dial and text and then stand to pace and dial and text before finally giving up. “Ever’s not answering.”

He left the room without a word, so I reluctantly followed him and watched from a safe distance as he pounded on Ever’s door.

At least I wasn’t the only one freaking out.

When Ever didn’t answer, he pushed into the room. A few seconds later, he was back in the hall looking perplexed and holding a sheet of paper that I instantly recognized. My heart pounded when he held it up and moved closer for me to see. It was the note I’d left him.

“What exactly happened between you two?”

“How did you know about that?”

“It was sitting on his bed. You may be part boy, but your handwriting is still girly as shit.”

Thinking there might be a clue, I ran to my room with Jamie on my heels. I immediately zeroed in on the identical slip of folded paper waiting on my nightstand. For some reason, my hands shook as I opened the note. He’d only bothered to write two words.

I know.




Evening came and Ever never returned home. I opted to ride with Jamie to the Montgomery home, although neither of us spoke during the drive. I just stared out the window while Jamie puffed on a cigarette, something he only did when agitated. Fifteen minutes later, we passed through the gates. The home was smaller than the McNamara mansion but still grander than anything I could imagine for myself. Thomas and Rosalyn had beaten us there by minutes, and I no longer wondered if Ever would even be in attendance when I spotted his car parked out front. Jamie, wearing a red dress shirt, black tie, and slacks, and I in lace and chiffon, approached the front door side by side. He rang the bell, and we glanced at each as if to say ‘this is it.’ The door opened moments later, and a man with hair salted at the temples and peppered on top appeared.

“Jameson,” the man greeted with his hand out, “good to see you again.” It didn’t sound the least bit true.

Jamie politely shook his hand but didn’t bother with false pleasantries. The disdain the two shared for one another seeped from their pores.

Soon, the older man’s gaze slid to me and became assessing as if determining my worth. “Hello, young lady. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Elliot Montgomery, Barbette’s father.”