Feather Bound (28 page)

Hyde and I looked at each other for a long time. It made me uncomfortable. As long as his feathers decorated my coach, I owned him and I didn't want to.

“Hyde…”

Slowly, he walked passed me over to the couch. His fingers twitched as he lifted his arms. He hesitated, but just for a moment, before grabbing the feather robe. The feathers burst apart in his hands, each one fluttering to the floor. Just like that, the light returned to his eyes and he was whole again.

Tentatively, I crept up to him. “Hyde–”

His arms were around my waist and before I could right myself, his lips were on mine. My hands flew around his neck, pressing him to me. This was it. This was what I longed for, what I needed. I let him tilt my head back to deepen the kiss. I let him crush me to him; let his fingers trail up my cheek, through my hair. I let him lose himself completely and lost myself too, wanting to cry from the perfection of it. I let him because I could.

After a while, I slipped my hands between our chests. Though my body groaned, I gently pushed him away, just enough, so that I could gaze at him.

“Deanna?”

I trailed a path down his cheek, cupping his chin. “It's really late, and you…” I paused. He'd just been through hell. We both had. “You should go home,” I said.

“I guess I can now.”

He pulled me into a hug and I didn't fight it. I let my head rest on the nape of his neck, feeling his breath brush against my ear.

“There's actually something else I need to talk to you about.”

With one eyebrow raised, Hyde looked down at me. “Oh?”

I shuffled my feet. The nightmare was only partially over. There was one last thing I needed to do before I could sleep again. “It's kind of a long story. I wasn't going to tell you, but I figured I owed you the truth, since you told me yours. There's something I want to do tomorrow. But I need your OK first, since it involves you too.”

“Tomorrow? What's happening tomorrow?”

I let a little wicked slip into my grin when I answered. “It's a surprise. But not for you.”

 

“So many galas.” I gazed into the crowded reception hall with my arms crossed behind my back, shivering a bit in my simple blue dress.

Hyde took off his blazer and threw it over my shoulders, ever the gentleman. I gripped the sleeves and pulled it closer as the couple in front of us entered, leaving us at the front of the line. One look at Hyde's arm around me and the doorman let us in. I suppose there were perks to being acquainted with a hot young billionaire, if you considered having a free ticket into elite Manhattan social soirees to be a perk. I'd had enough of these bullshit events, personally.

But there was something I had to do today. One last gala to attend.

Hyde leaned over to read the sign by the glowing ice-sculpture. “Charity New York honors Harold and Janice Bennett.”

“Ericka's friend is their daughter.” I scanned the crowd of well-dressed patrons for our target.

“The cosmetics moguls.” He straightened back up, adjusting the well-cut cuff over his wrist. “You know, my father was honored too, years ago. That's when he introduced his brand new son.” He smirked, sweeping two champagne glasses off a tray and offering me one. I refused it. Still seventeen. “I remember the applause. I remember peering down at each of their faces from the stage and suddenly it hit me: none of them, not one, was looking at me.”

“And here you are again.” I flapped the sleeve of the expensive gray jacket draping me. “Is it really kosher to criticize your people?”

Hyde put his arm around my shoulder. “I've thought of that. Having a certain amount of money comes with a bit of responsibility. And now I have my freedom. There're a few things I can do with both.”

“Probably best to fix this one last thing, though. Oh, good they're here. Two o'clock.” Hyde's gaze followed in the direction I'd flicked my head. He grinned. Anton was seated at one table, next to Beatrice who chatted with a few balding businessmen. With Edmund Rey still in jail the two would have to show a united front in public, without, of course, clueing anyone in to just how united their front could get.

“Board members,” Hyde whispered in my ear. “Has Ericka done it yet?”

“Yep.” I spied her at the table next to Anton's and waved. Beaming, she motioned us over. “And Ade's text came in while we were waiting in line. They'll all be on their way over soon.”

“Well then, that would be our cue, wouldn't it?” Hyde extended his arm for me to take. I grabbed it with a gleeful tug and we walked up to Ericka together. I could feel Anton's eyes following us as we slipped between tables. Once we reached Ericka's, I hugged her; we threw our arms around each other and then – a little surprisingly – she rubbed my head like she used to.

“Hey, hey!
Hair
! Come on, now.” I smoothed the stray hairs back into place.

“Oh, sorry,” she said a little embarrassed. I wondered if she was trying too hard to force things back to the way they used to be. I gave her a reassuring smile. She didn't have to. I gave François a kiss on the cheek and saluted Charles, who barely acknowledged me while he sat there talking to one of his lawyer friends.

“Hey Beanpole,” I said, just in case he didn't see me the first time. A little crude, yes. Definitely caught his attention, though. His face went red. Indignant, he turned to Ericka for a little support. She giggled into her hand.

Hyde pulled out the seat between Ericka and me, waving to Beatrice before sitting. I had to give it to her; she was much better than Anton at feigning composure. She sat, poised, next to Anton, avoiding my eyes when I couldn't help but lean over and watch her. My lips curled into a smile even when Hyde tugged on my arm to rein me back in. She stared straight ahead of her. Very well done, Beatrice. But she was wondering, wasn't she? Why Hyde didn't come back to her last night. Where his feathers had gone. Who'd taken them – and when. All sorts of things she wouldn't dare speak of lest she implicated herself.

Anton, on the other hand, glared at Hyde with a mixture of disdain and jealousy. Must have been hard watching the boy he'd tried so hard to destroy and the girl he'd used to do it grinning so shamelessly in public when by all rights they should have been drowning in a pool of despair and angst.

It was going to get harder.

Another old guy in a suit climbed the stage with his glass of wine in hand and tapped it lightly with a spoon until everyone else in the gala was doing the same. By the time the clinking had stopped, the reception was silent.

“I'd like to thank everyone for coming this evening to honor two very outstanding members of our community,” he said and prattled on about the philanthropic wonders of the Bennetts while the video screen behind him played images of Harold and Janice surrounded by puppies. I had to smother a laugh. “Now, without further ado, I would love–”

The video screen went blank. Nobody seemed to notice the glitch. Harold and Janice walked up onto the stage to dainty applause. Ericka and I exchanged sneaky glances.

Show time.

“Thank you, thank you,” said Harold while Janice smiled sweetly and, of course, silently next to him. “Thank you for this wonderful honor.” He cleared his throat, obviously about to lapse into whatever practiced speech he'd prepared. “As you all well know, social justice has always been a primary concern of Bennett Industries–”

“Oh yes. Like blackmailing that poor girl into ruining Hedley's son.”

Harold frowned, confused. The voice had poured in from the speakers that had up until now been playing classical music.

“I'm still a little embarrassed you tried something so... juvenile.”

“I had to. Hyde was going to ruin us.”

I couldn't help it. I peeked over at Anton's table. Beatrice's face had paled several shades, her fingers grasping and un-grasping the pearl bracelet around her wrist. Poor Anton still hadn't quite worked out what was happening. Surely, he would have recognized the voices by now? Others were already starting to. I could see the glances sliding over to them, the mouths agape, each one wanting to hiss out whispers, except that would have made it harder to hear the next gasp-worthy line of dialogue in this little impromptu show of mine – and this one was a killer:

“So you threatened to sell a teenage swangirl to an organized crime syndicate? Oh Anton.”

Gasps. Dozens of them, all on cue. As Beatrice's laughter filled the hall, Anton jumped to his feet, finally aware of what was going on. The board members stared at Beatrice in shock, who had frozen in place, all her wit and arrogance dried and dusted until there was nothing but a hollow statue draped in fashion's finest.

“What… What is going on?” said Harold while he, Janice and about half the gala turned every which way, desperate to find the source of the sound and the one controlling it; except the tech guy who had Ericka's flash drive was safely in the control room backstage.

“She was Hyde's weakness. Besides… Besides, Beatrice, what's more juvenile? Threatening some throwaway bitch who means nothing, or blackmailing the son of a dead publishing mogul to get into his pants.”

“That's a lie!” screamed Anton, frantic as the gala stared at the two of them in horror.

“Well, technically it was to get the company, now wasn't it?” smarmed yesterday's Beatrice.

“Stop! This isn't… What the hell are you doing?” He was flailing his arms frantically, which perhaps was meant to be threatening, except he looked more like a parakeet in the throes of a mating dance. “Cut that off!”

But why would they? Socialites and businessmen alike were whispering. Reporters were busy scribbling down notes, some holding up their phones to capture the magic, just like Ade had captured the magic on hers while we hid in Beatrice's closet. And there I'd been thinking she was texting Ericka for help. But when we got home and Ade played the recording back – in that one moment, Ade had secured her place on the “win” column forevermore. Well deserved.

I grinned in secret gratitude, and when Anton's eyes locked onto mine, I winked and tipped my glass his way.

“Yeah, but you didn't stop there. You've got to tell me, Beatrice. What do you have on him? If it were that easy to get him to give up the company, I wouldn't have had to waste my time on that annoying little Brooklyn slut.”

“What?” Ericka cried out in the loudest, most ridiculously affected voice imaginable. “Anton Rey sexually threatened a swangirl to get her to ruin Hyde Hedley? And Beatrice Hoffer-Rey blackmailed Hyde Hedley's son to get him to forfeit the company to her?”

Hyde leaned back in his chair. “Dramatic, isn't it? I was quite shocked myself.”

“This is absolutely absurd.” Beatrice was on her feet now, bearing down on the two of us. Somewhere in the recesses of her subconscious she must have at least partly put it together. The sudden disappearance of Hyde's feathers. A faithful recording of her unwitting confession, retouched for sound quality. I could see the gears turning like clockwork behind those panicked blue eyes. No, Beatrice, you're not wrong. Go on. Put it together. I'll wait here.

“How is it absurd?” Like Ericka, Hyde made sure his voice carried over the commotion. I wasn't worried about my little production, though; a transcription of the dialogue flashed on the video screen in huge black letters, Arial script. If people couldn't hear it, they could always read it. “When Edmund Rey found out I was a swan, he sold me into slavery. And when you found out, you bought me yourself.”

I pursed my lips, ignoring the shocked whispers, focusing on Hyde alone. Last night I'd told him everything and then given him the choice. This plan, after all, would have exposed him too, and I couldn't go through with it without knowing how Hyde felt. But he'd decided on his own that he was finally ready to speak.

“I was ashamed,” Hyde said. “So ashamed that I chose to be your slave, and that gave you leverage. Gave you
power
. Without that, what are you?”

“Disgusting.” I stood up and walked past her until I was face to face with Anton. “Like your stepson: the one who made my life a living hell for the past few weeks all to keep his trust fund.” While Anton's chest heaved, I cocked my head to the side. “What can I say? Payback's a bitch.”

A table crashing, grunts, moans. The frantic sounds of stepmother and stepson ripping each other's clothes off sent the gala into a frenzy. It was the perfect musical backdrop for Dad and Ade's entrance into the reception hall, flanked by the police who she'd given another copy of the flash drive to, as per the plan.

Cameras snapping, lights flashing, phones in the air. Beatrice and Anton's sexcapades roared out in full volume for all to hear: in a matter of minutes, Ade's and my private hell would be only as private as the internet allowed.

Anton lunged at me. Right when I was distracted by the sheer wonder of it all. He grabbed me by the shoulders, but tripped over the leg of a chair before he could hit me. We both crashed to the ground. His fingers scraped against my throat, squeezing my windpipe. People were screaming. My back was burning, feathers sprouting in my flesh, poking at the skin from inside me.

I kicked my right leg up hard, my shin finding the soft part between his legs. Direct hit. With a strained whimper, he faded to the side, cowering against the chair while his legs squeezed into a single line. Two cops hooked his arms and dragged him to his feet, slapping cuffs on him while a frantic Beatrice was already being led away.

“Like in the movies!” Ade said, helping me up. “You OK?”