The Complete Arrogant Series (46 page)

BELLAMY

Jensen and Waverly snuck out of
the house last night. No one noticed until neither of them showed up to
breakfast.

Then all hell broke loose. My
father wasted no time springing his plan into action.

Jensen’s truck pulled up about an
hour after breakfast, and the house went eerily quiet for a brief moment, like
the calm before a storm. I step away the second their footsteps tread down the
foyer as I’m unwilling to witness any of what’s about to happen.

“You’re endangering your virtue,
Waverly. You need to be controlled. If I can’t control you, then…” My father’s
voice booms from the dining room as I wait around the corner. “I didn’t want to
have to do this. Not yet.”

My poor
sister.

 
“Your marriage has been arranged. Your
husband has been chosen for you.” I hear a pound, which is likely my father’s
fist against the table.

“No!” Waverly sobs.

 
“Waverly, this is enough. You need to
keep sweet and know that I am doing what’s best for you.” His voice is softer
now, as if that could possibly get her to calm down. He’s just delivered the
ultimate blow, knocking down everything she’s ever wanted with a handful of
words and the promise of her worst nightmare.

“I can’t do this, Dad. I can’t. I
can’t marry someone. Let me graduate from college first.” Her frantic pleas
break my heart and renew my sense of purpose all at once. “I’m supposed to go
to Utah. You said if-if I get a scholarship, I could go. I don’t want to get
married yet, I—”

“The decision has been made.
Bellamy will drive you. You’re to pack immediately. Your car is fueled and
ready for the drive.”

On cue, I step out from around
the corner, wearing a blank expression to protect this intricately laid plan.

“You fucking traitor,” Waverly
points a finger at me and then braces herself for a slap that never comes. It’s
a shock, really, because I’m not sure the word “fucking” has ever been spoken to
Mark Miller by one of his offspring before.

My father looks to me, and I
deliver the scripted lines he gave me earlier when he was sure she’d need my
encouragement to help understand this insane situation.

“I’m sorry, Waverly,” I say, my
arms folded and my demeanor painfully calm. “This is God’s will. This is for
the best. It won’t be so bad.”

Dad nods at me then tells my
sister to head upstairs to pack. My mother follows after, not to help, but to
ensure it’s done in a timely manner. I give them ten minutes before slipping in
the room and telling them it’s time to go.

I load her bag in the trunk of
her Jetta and head toward the interstate. After a solid half hour of silence, I
finally break it to her.

“I’m on your side you know.” I
glance over at her. She’s flattened against the window with a wicked scowl on
her face.

Not that I blame her.

“Everything’s going to be okay,”
I add after she refuses to speak. “You have to trust me.”

“You’re delusional if you think
I’ll ever trust you again.”

When I merge onto a westbound
exit ramp, Waverly sits up.

“I thought we were going to South
Dakota.” Her words come out slowly as she gives me the side eye. “You’re going
west.”

“I told you. Trust me.”

I take the exit to downtown SLC
and glide down the familiar streets that lead to Townsend Tower, pulling into
the basement parking garage and into a designated spot Dane had texted me that
morning. I sent him a text before we left the house, when no one was looking,
and he shot me back instructions to meet him here in one hour or less and to
park in spot fourteen.

“Get out,” I instruct, shifting
the car into park. My stomach responds with a flurry of butterflies when I spot
Dane’s limo two spots down. The trunk pops, and Waverly glances in.

“Why are there two suitcases?”
she asks.

I’d stuck mine in there a few
days before when no one was looking. It’s mostly filled with trinkets and
mementos, the only things I care to take with me from this life to my next.

Bronson steps out of the limo,
walking around to open Dane’s door. I take back what I said about Clark Kent
earlier. Right now I’m staring at a bona fide Superman in a three-piece suit
doing his part to help save the day.

Dane checks the chrome watch on
his hand and steps toward me, leaning in to graze his lips across my cheek.
“You’re on time. Very good.”

“Bellamy, are you going to tell
me what’s going on now?” Waverly plants her feet as Bronson transfers the bags.

I turn toward Dane, breathing in
his cologne, which will forever smell like freedom to me. “This is Dane Townsend,
my boss. He’s going to save us.”

***

Jensen arrives on the second day,
shortly after breakfast. My sister practically pummels him over when she runs
into his arms. Dane gives them space, time to acclimate, and free reign of the
estate. They’ll be living here until Waverly goes to college in the fall, and
much to my surprise – and hers – he’s sponsoring her at a local
private college.

“How do I look?” I slip into the
suite Jensen and Waverly are sharing later that night, the fabric of my evening
gown gathered in my hands.

She sits up on her bed, rubbing
her eyes. “Who
are
you?”

“Oh, stop.” I wave my hand,
flicking my wrist where diamonds rest in the form of a tennis bracelet.

“Who
is
Dane?” Waverly asks.

I fight the smile instantly
elicited by the mere mention of him. “He’s my boss.”

She arches her brows. “
Just
your boss?”

“It’s complicated.”

“He loves you.” She scoots back
on the bed, folding her legs and resting her elbows on her knees. “That part is
obvious.”

“It’s not that kind of
relationship.” My smile fades, evaporating the second I heard the L-word. That
word is contraband in this house. “I don’t expect you to understand. It’s a…
consensual, adult relationship.”

Waverly reads me with a cockeyed
smile and squinted eyes.

 
“Sometimes we do what we have to do in
order to survive, and sometimes we surprise ourselves when we realize how far
we’re willing to go to set ourselves free. Because of Dane, we get to live our
lives exactly the way we want. No polygamy. No AUB. No sneaking around, hiding
from the public. Our lives finally belong to us. This is freedom, Waverly.
We’re finally free.”

The shower shuts off in the
bathroom. Jensen will be out any minute.

“How’d you know about Jensen and
me?” she asks.

“Because you look at him like
he’s the greatest thing in the whole world. Amongst other things…”

Her cheeks flush deep pink, and
she buries her face in her palms like I read her diary.

“It’s okay,” I say. “You don’t
need to be ashamed anymore. We only get one life. If being with Jensen makes
you happy, then that’s what you should do. And he’s not even technically our
stepbrother if you want to get into the logistics of it.”

A voice buzzes through speakers
built into the walls.

“Mademoiselle
Miller?”
Mathilde’s French accent cuts through the room. “The car is ready.”

“Where are you headed tonight?”
Waverly takes me in from head to toe.

“I’m accompanying Dane to a
private dinner party.”

“Let me see your shoes.”

I pick up the train of my
midnight dress, revealing rhinestones covering the four-inch heels on my feet.

She smiles. “Gorgeous.”

I slip my arms around my sister,
holding her tight.

“Have fun, Bell.” She hugs back,
squeezing harder than I’ve ever been squeezed before.

I back away, gathering the silk
fabric of my dress and floating out the door and down the stairs to where my
date is wearing the most debonair all-black tuxedo I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Stunning.” He reaches for my
hand when I get to the landing only this time he threads our fingers together.

DANE

I wake next to Bellamy this
morning for the second time in a row.

Our weekend was packed with
rescuing and debriefing her sister, ensuring her sister’s boyfriend made it
here all right, and then I whisked her away to a party thrown by one of my
senator friends.

Men stared at Bellamy all night,
and why wouldn’t they? A slinky black dress dripped off her curves, and she was
iced in more diamonds than a De Beers heiress. She stole the show, and she
never left my side once.

“I had some of your clothes
transferred here,” I call to her as she struts to the bathroom.

“You really did think of
everything,” she calls out over the spray of the shower a second later.

We get ready for work side by
side like some ordinary, vanilla couple, and for the first time, I don’t
particularly mind it.

Matter of fact, I think I could
get used to this.

I stare at the strange man in the
mirror and give him a wink, just to make sure he’s real because I sure as fuck
don’t recognize him or his unfamiliar thoughts.

***

An email from the Crystal Swan arrives the second I get to
the office. It’s automated and one that kicks in if you haven’t been by the
club after a certain amount of time. It’s the first time in two years that I’ve
received this email, and the only thing about my life that’s changed in those
two years is the introduction of Bellamy Miller.

Within ten minutes, I’m knocking at the black door, my
keycard in hand. I’m cancelling my membership today, but first, I have a bit of
business to tend to.

“Welcome back, Master Townsend,” the hostess dressed in all
white coos. She scans my badge and glances down at the screen. “Looks like we
haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Is Jenessa in today?”

The white swan smiles.
“Why, yes she
is. She’s about to perform in the Hayworth Room.”

The Hayworth Room is named for the founding member of the
Crystal Swan. There’s a small stage and seating for no more than eight. It’s
where I first met Jenessa Dubrow, and it’s where I’ve been coming for the last
two years to remind myself over and over not to make the same mistake twice.

Every time I see her, I remember.

And every time she sees me, I hope she remembers too.

I turn down the west hall and set out toward the Hayworth
Room. This time of day, there’s hardly more than a handful of men sitting in on
her show.

Today, it’s just me.

She sits on a barstool, center stage, dressed in all white
leather with a white, feathered mask hiding her eyes. But I don’t have to see
her eyes to sense the weight of her stare.

The doors close behind me, indicating it’s show time, and I
take a seat directly across from her. If evil were a creature incarnate, she’d
be wrapped in beautiful lies and called Jenessa.

“Haven’t seen you in weeks,
Master
.” She breaks her silence. It’s the first time since we ended
our relationship that she’s had the gall to speak to me. Maybe the fact that we’re
alone again for the first time in years gives her the nerve to try and strike
up a conversation. “I missed you watching me.”

“For some reason I doubt that.” My arms fold, and I press my
back against the chair. Today marks the first time in forever that I can look
at her and feel nothing but numbness. The sharp bite of regret and the sting of
deception suddenly
feels
stale.

Her fingertips trail down her backside, teasing me. “I mean
it. I miss you. Despite everything.”

“
Despite
…
everything
.” I spit her words back at
her, twisting them across my tongue slowly.

“You’re the only master who could ever push all the right
buttons for me.” She pokes a long leg straight out, pointing her toe and
dragging it back like a graceful ballerina. A feather-covered basket rests next
to her. Props mostly. She glances down at them and back at me.

“No.”

Her berry lips pout, and she coils a strand of icy blonde
hair around her manicured finger. “What if I begged?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why are you here?”

It’s a damn good question, but I’ll be damned if I ever give
her the answer she craves.

“I’m not here because you turn me on. I’m not here because I
want you back,” I say. “I’ve been coming to remind you, on a weekly basis, what
a disgusting person you are.”

Her dark lips curl into a wide smile. “So you’ve been
punishing me all this time?”