Chapter Thirty-One - Cindy
“Everything that’s happened over the years is about the girls, Pax.” But he’s just staring at me with a funny look on his face. “Do you hear me?”
He takes a deep breath and then leads me over to the small couch and sits down, pulling me into his lap. “What girls?” he asks. “What’s going on?”
I sigh, so fucking sorry I have to be the one who finally has the answers he’s been looking for these past ten years. “Your mother went to Dartmouth. She’s from a very important, very old money, very prestigious and public family.”
“Yes,” he says, staring straight into my eyes.
“She wasn’t the first to be invited in.”
“In?”
Poor Pax. I lean down and kiss him on the lips. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be OK. We are all smart and strong. We will find a way out.”
“Out of what? Cindy,” he says, raising his voice. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Out of the Silver Society. You were invited, sort of. Men really don’t get invited, Pax. The women do. It’s an all-female society. Secret to everyone, except the five new women tapped for membership from each Ivy League school at the beginning of senior year. I never went to an Ivy League school, as you know. I went to Irvine.” I stop and try to make myself brave. “But my sister Rory did. A long time ago, Pax. She’s almost fifteen years older than me. And your mother told me she got an invitation.”
“Your sister?” he says. “The princess?”
I nod, swallowing down my fear. “But she didn’t understand what it was. And… well, she got out of it.”
“Got out of it?” he asks, his voice soft now. “What do you mean? What does that mean, Cindy?”
“She’s been missing ever since college. She disappeared, Pax. I haven’t seen her, or talked to her—”
“She’s dead?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know,” I say, struggling not to cry. “I don’t think she’s dead. We never found a body or a note for ransom, or anything like that. I was way too young to understand what happened, right? I was six years old. I barely knew her. I barely remember her, Pax. But she is a giant gaping hole in my life. I’ve watched my parents grieve over the years on the anniversary of the disappearance and it’s been killing me. I’ve watched Five become so distant and withdrawn, he’s barely a member of the family anymore. He loved her.” I choke back a sob. “He loved her so much. And she loved him back, so much. They were destiny.” I sniff the sob away and sit up straight, forcing myself to hold it together. “That’s part of the reason why I became a detective, do you understand? I’ve been looking for her all this time.”
“But your parents,” Pax says. “Your parents talk about her like she’s alive. I swear, I know they do. I have never gotten the impression that she was… gone.”
“It’s sad,” I say. “They have never given up hope.”
“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “Fucking hell.” And then he looks me in the eyes again. “And my mother is responsible for that?”
“We don’t know that, Pax. We can’t jump to conclusions. We need to get that envelope out of the kitchen. We need to see what it says.”
“It’s filled with fucking cooks and servers right now,” he says.
“I know,” I say, my eyes filling with tears. “I know. So we just have to wait until tonight when everyone goes to sleep. And then we go back, get the envelope, and try to put these last few pieces together.”
“I need to call her,” he says, pulling out his phone. He presses a contact icon, then holds the phone up to his ear. Even I can hear the call ring through to voice mail. He tabs the end button and looks at me. “When did you last see her?”
“This afternoon. She was here, I thought she was staying. She told me we needed to come here and she said she’d explain tonight.”
“It is tonight.”
“I know. Maybe she just got caught up in something? She’ll be back, Pax. If not later tonight, then tomorrow for sure. She can explain everything. And we can show her my invitation—”
“What if she sent the fucking invitation?”
I shake my head. “Just… don’t stop trusting her now, OK? We don’t even know if it is an invitation.”
He looks at the window where the sounds of people in the private pool can be heard. “What time do you think they close up the kitchen?”
I shrug. “I dunno. Eleven, maybe? Out by midnight?”
“So we have like five hours.”
“Yeah.” I snuggle into his chest, inhaling his scent as I try not to freak out about everything that’s happened in the past several weeks. “We could get all the answers in just a few more hours. I might even get answers about Rory.”
“But they might not be the answers we want, Miss Cookie.”
“No, Detective. But I guess that’s the chance you take when you go searching for the truth. It’s better to know than not know, right?”
He’s silent for several seconds, his fingertips rubbing small, gentle circles on the bare skin of my upper arm. I lean into him even more and he tightens his arms around me, kissing my neck and inhaling me, just the way I did him. “An honest enemy is always better than a friend who lies. Do you know who told me that?”
“Who?”
“Your brother. The night we all had to disappear and not see each other again. I wasn’t crazy about Five taking over. I was pissed, actually. I said a bunch of shit, pointing out why we shouldn’t trust him, especially since he wasn’t even a lawyer and he was making us all look very fucking guilty when we knew—I knew—I did nothing wrong that night. I didn’t rape that girl. It was a fucking game, OK? I didn’t even ask to play. I just got that silver fucking envelope and I was twenty-one years old. What guy isn’t up for a game like that at twenty-one?” he pauses and then says, “Don’t answer that. I’m sure Oliver would’ve said no. Five would’ve definitely said no. Perfect would’ve said no. Corporate would never be interested in games, his whole life was a goddamned game. Hell, I bet Romantic would’ve even turned that shit down.”
“I believe you.”
“‘Five will never lie to us,’ Oli said. ‘And isn’t it better to have an honest enemy than a friend who lies?’ What could I say? I’d rather deal in facts any day. The lies—” He leans down to kiss my head. “I’ve had my fair share of lies from my fucking father. So yeah, the friend who lies is far worse than the enemy who tells the truth.”
“Five won’t lie to us,” I say. “I will vouch for that. He’s not even capable, I don’t think. He’s weird. Wired all wrong. A freak in many ways, just like his father. But he’s honest. And he’s loyal. I don’t think you can ask for anything more than loyalty in this life. Love comes and goes. People change. But family is family, not through blood, but through loyalty. My dad used to tell us kids that all growing up. He’s got a circle of friends so tight, no outside force could ever break it. The strength of bonds comes from within, Five’s father, Ford, used to say. He’s kind of a nerd. And there’s this framed quote in Ford’s house back in Colorado. It says, Look out for the people who look out for you. Because in the end, they’re the only ones who matter.”
Pax grunts, but I can feel his smile against the bare skin of my cheek.
“So that’s what we do, right?” I turn in his lap to look at him. “Right?”
He nods, slowly.
“We just look out for each other whenever we can. And that includes your mom. She’s good people, Pax. And we should not doubt her until she gets her chance to tell the rest of the story.”
“I don’t know if I want to hear it.”
“You do,” I say, placing both my hands on his cheeks again. “You do.”
“And what if we find out your sister is dead?” he whispers. “Will you love the truth then?”
I slump against him, unwilling to even think about it. “I’ll deal with that when it happens.”
We are silent for long minutes after that. We just sit there, listening to the dog bark, and the kid squeal, and the splashing of the pool water. Eventually we hear West and Victoria talking. Then Mac and Ellie chastising the dog for something that probably involves a lot of long, wet hair. And Nolan and Ivy laughing about names for the baby she’s carrying.
The only Mister voice missing is Oliver.
I guess that’s because he has no Mrs. and doesn’t feel comfortable around all the other couples. Or maybe he’s still pissed about Pax and me and can’t bear the thought of seeing us together?
“Miss Cookie?” Pax finally says, breaking my thoughts and the long silence at the same time.
“Yes, Detective?”
“Would you like to go bed with me? Waste a few unnecessary hours? Forget about later?”
I look at the clock on the wall. It’s barely eight. “I certainly would, Detective. In fact,” I say, getting to my feet and taking his hand so I can pull him up, “I can’t think of a single better option than lying naked next to you right now.”
“Naked?” he asks, smiling down at me. “I never said anything about getting naked.” He reaches for the hem of my t-shirt and lifts it up over my head, his big hands cupping the lacy bra that outlines my large breasts. “But now that you mention it, it’s just what the detective ordered.”
He takes off his own shirt, drops it on the floor, and then leads me into the little bedroom at the back of the cabana. I watch the muscles move along his back in the dim light. The way they stretch and become taut with each step. The little twin shadows of dimples just above the waistband of his jeans. The curve of his ass and the length of his stride.
Everything about Paxton Vance screams power. But it’s funny. With me, he’s so gentle and sweet. He’s really nothing like the man I imagined him to be all these years as I plotted and planned my way into his life.
He’s so much better.