Chapter 11

Cohen

I stared ahead of me as the woman got out of the car in front of us. I didn’t recognize her—she was beautiful, with dark hair that shone in the light of the lamp that lit the driveway. Next to her, somebody else got out of the car. I could feel Abby’s eyes on my face as we lingered in the car for a moment. In my head, I was having trouble adjusting to even looking beyond the car, being in the small space with her. It didn’t matter that there were people in front of us—the tension was ripe and stifling. I wanted to touch Abby worse than I had ever wanted anything in that moment, and yet when I shook my head I was brought back to the present, realizing that there were two people staring at us from my driveway.

“Who are they?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Mandy called me to tell me that somebody was parked outside. She said she didn’t recognize them.”

“The maid?” Abby asked. I nodded, unbuckling my seatbelt and getting out of the car.

“Hello,” I said. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Bella,” the woman said, giving me a feline smile, her eyes immediately connecting with mine. I found myself moving close to Abby, my hand going to her waist to guide her forward. It was something that I was compelled to do—to touch her, to protect her from the strangers. The realization made my stomach twist, especially when she pulled away from me, shooting me an irritated look.

“And you are?” I asked, looking at the man.

“Gregory,” the man said, smiling broadly. He reached forward, putting his hand out to shake mine. I stared at it, not taking it.

“Who are you?” I asked them again.

“Well, Mr. Ashton, we’re actually here to see my father.”

“Your father,” I said blankly. “What are you talking about?

“Paul Rosenfelt? Isn’t he your uncle? That makes you my cousin,” Gregory said. “Nice to meet you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Paul never had any children.”

“Oh, but he did,” Gregory said. He glanced over his shoulder at the house.

“Mind if we go inside? It’s getting a little cool out here.”

I stared at him for a moment, debating sending him away. But I nodded to him and we went inside, Abby and Bella filing behind us. I exchanged a glance with Abby again, who had a curious, albeit confused look on her face.

“Do you want a drink?” I asked them.

“I’ll have wine, darling,” said Bella, her voice smooth. Her eyes were a pale brown, almost golden, in the lamplight. They were half-lidded, too, a clear look of interest on her face. I looked away from her, uninterested as I went to the bar. My eyes flickered to Abby, who was staring at both the woman and Gregory.

“So who are you, really?” I asked, handing them each a glass of wine.

“I told you, I’m—”

“You are not my uncle’s son. He does not have a son. So why don’t you tell me why the hell you’re here before I throw you out on your ass.”

“I’m happy to do a DNA test,” Gregory said, shrugging. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a photo and tossing it onto the table. I picked it up to see a young Paul, along with a scrawny teenager by his side.

“Impossible,” I said, throwing it back at him.

“DNA test, then. Let’s do it,” Gregory said.

“Why haven’t I seen you in nearly twenty years of living here?” I asked him hotly. He was started to wear me down, to get on my nerves. Lots of people had been after my money—my uncle’s money—and had tried several manipulative ways to get it. Nobody had sunk this low, though.

“I was separated from Paul when my mother fell ill. He wanted nothing to do with her. Said he was in love with somebody else,” the man said, disdain in his voice. “So I went to go take care of her. She just passed away last week—she told me where Paul was. I barely remember him, but he’s my dad, for sure. I have no doubt about that.”

“Why did you come here?”

“I want to meet my dad again,” the man said, a fake innocence in his voice. “Thought we could reconnect. Haven’t seen him in years.”

“And who are you?” I asked Bella.

“I’m just a friend,” she said, giving me that flirty smile, chewing on her bottom lip. I might have found it sexy at another point, but there was no room in my head for anybody other than Abby. She consumed me, especially when I looked at her to see a resentful look on her face as she stared at Bella.

“A friend of who?”

“Of Gregory’s. We’ve been friends for a very long time. I knew how emotional this would be for him—seeing his father again after all of these years. I just felt so bad, so I offered to come support him.”

“That’s nice of you,” I said dryly.

“Yes,” she said. “I do my best.”

“Listen,” Abby said, standing up. “It’s really late. I’m going to get to bed.”

“That’s a good idea,” I said. “I’m sorry, but it’s been a long day.”

“No worries,” said Gregory, downing the rest of his wine. “We have somewhere to stay for the night. We’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“But—” Abby began.

“That’s fine,” I said. I needed to find out more about these people and what they wanted. I didn’t believe for a minute that he was who he said he was, though the photo he’d provided had undeniably been Paul. There was no way that Paul would have had a son without telling me, and he was not the type of man who would just abandon his child without caring. I knew that about Paul—he had taken care of me, taken me in when nobody had. Paul would never abandon anyone, which is how I knew that Gregory wasn’t real. Still, I wanted to know more, so I took his wine glass and nodded at both he and Bella.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I said to them stiffly. Bella fluttered her eyelashes at me, touching my hand briefly as I took her glass. Her fingers brushed against mine, making me shiver, though not in the same way that touching Abby did. For some reason, Bella’s fingers felt cold and clammy, nothing like Abby’s warm, soft touch. I could feel Abby’s eyes on me as I pulled my hand away, but she looked away from me quickly when I tried to catch her eye.

Bella and Gregory left after a long, drawn-out goodbye, during which Gregory’s eyes scanned the house, the expensive decorations on display. Throughout my uncle’s charity, he had developed for himself an expensive taste. He had always told me it was his one vice—he wanted his surroundings to be beautiful, to make an elegant home for the two of us to live in together.

I turned to Abby when they were gone to see that her lips were pressed into a thin line.

“What is it?” I asked her.

“Who were they?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Do I look like I know?”

She sighed. “Are you always going to be like this? Do you seriously never lighten up?”

I gritted my teeth at her, turning around to go up to my room without answering. I felt Abby grab my arm from behind, and turned around to look at her to see that she was narrowing her eyes at me.

“You can’t treat me like this,” she said. “I won’t let you.”

“Like what, Abby?” I asked.

“Like you want me one minute, and you hate me the next,” she said.

“You think there are minutes when I don’t want you?” I asked with a laugh, running my hand through my hair. “Really? You think there’s been a single minute since you walked in this house that I haven’t thought of bending you over and fucking you from behind?”

She blushed, and the look on her face was stricken in a way that was deeply satisfying.

“I—uh,” she said, stumbling over her words.

“I might hate you,” I said to her. “I might never like you. But I always want you.”

“Thanks,” she said sarcastically, letting go of my arm. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I sighed. “Abby—”

“Fuck off,” she said, walking past me and into her room. I stood there for a moment, tempted to knock on her door, but I had a feeling that she would only ignore me. Again, I felt guilty—I always felt guilty, it seemed—for leaving Paul behind, for letting myself go with Abby, for fighting back happiness as hard as I could. I went upstairs then, muttering curses to myself as I went into my room. I opened up my laptop, itching to email Gabriella, forgetting for a moment that the woman who vexed me and the woman who enchanted me were indeed the same person. Abby had emailed me an apology but I didn’t answer her. I felt worse with every message that I sent, knowing that my deception was wrong and might cost me Abby altogether. I told myself that the reason I didn’t want to lose her was because she was so good at her job—Paul seemed to like her, and in a small town, she really was the only one qualified to do it. In truth, though, I had grown used to Abby’s bickering, her attitude, her sweet smile, and the way she spread her legs for me.

I closed my computer without answering her, rubbing my hand over my mouth. I got up and started pacing in my room. The idea of Paul having a son nagged at the back of my mind, no matter how many times I told myself that it wasn’t possible. Paul and I had been close since he’d brought me in, and I couldn’t stand the idea that he could have been hiding this massive secret from me throughout most of my life. Something tore at me, ate me up inside, and all I wanted to do was talk to Gabriella, send her an emailing confessing everything. But I didn’t. I knew that if I did, Abby would go. Instead, I climbed into bed, shutting my eyes and falling into a trouble sleep.