Chapter Twenty-Seven

Annabelle

The rest of the week flies by. Nonny settles in at her new school and has no complaints. But I’d be surprised if she did. She seems to have a bit of hero worship for Elliot.

The nightmare doesn’t return, thank god. But Elliot takes me like a man on a mission every night, as though he’s determined to make me come as many times as possible. I’m sore all over, especially between my legs. But I can’t really complain when I feel so languid and content.

My biggest worries—the tasks that consume most of my energy—are the reception and finding a job. Since I can’t start college again yet, I want to go ahead and work. Being idle is driving me nuts. And after tonight, I won’t even have the reception planning to keep me busy.

“So who’s coming?” Elliot asks, adjusting his shirt in front of the mirror in the master bedroom. He’s left the top two buttons undone, revealing the muscular pillar that is his throat. The dark slacks are perfectly tailored to fit him. I’m certain he doesn’t buy anything off the rack. His clothes are cut too precisely to highlight all his key assets—his broad chest, thick arms and that oh-my-god ass.

I don’t bother to glance at my notebook. Everything’s been memorized. “I invited all your siblings, and I think they’re all coming except maybe for Lucas. He didn’t respond, so I’m not sure.” I look at the dresses in the walk-in closet. Just yesterday I knew exactly what I was going to wear, but now I’m not sure if the red dress is the right choice. The color’s too bold for a wedding reception.

A shadow crosses his face. “He isn’t coming then.” He sighs. “I was hoping he would.”

“I’m sorry.” I stop what I’m doing and look at him. “I should’ve followed up more. When I couldn’t reach him the first time—”

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “It is what it is. I knew he probably wouldn’t. But… Did you invite Ryder too?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s coming?”

“He said he was.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Ah, nothing. I just thought he was going to spend the entire year in Thailand.”

“Maybe he’s making a special trip just for you.”

Elliot smiles. “Maybe. You watch, he’ll call it doing me a favor.” He snorts, but there’s warmth in his eyes.

“Your mother didn’t RSVP, but your father’s coming, along with his wife.”

He spins around. “I thought I asked you not to send them their invitations until two days before.”

“And that’s what I did. Your father said yes.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Ah, jeez. Okay. Anyone from your side?”

“No.”

“No aunts, uncles, cousins…?”

“My parents are both dead, and they were orphans. And it’s not like I have any friends I want to invite.” The people who called themselves “friends” turned their backs on me so fast they’re probably still spinning. Even Traci kept her distance. I can’t blame her for being aloof—I’m sure her family suffered too—but I no longer feel comfortable with anybody from Lincoln City.

I pull out a pink dress. It’s made entirely of chiffon, and the hem ends an inch above my knees. The bateau neckline is modest but elegant, with tiny pearls and diamantés sewn in. I hold it in front of me. My hair’s pulled up in a French twist, secured with a couple of hair pieces made with pearls and opalescent roses. My makeup is subtle, so I can do the light feminine color.

“You can’t wear that,” Elliot says. “Elizabeth is going to come in something very similar.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know her. Here. Try this.” He picks out a silk ivory dress with gold and diamanté accents. It skims my body like it’s been painted on and the asymmetrical hem ends around my knees and calves in a dramatic sweep.

It’s a stunning outfit, but I won’t be able to wear anything underneath. At least it has a built-in bra.

Turning away from him, I put it on, then chuck my panties. I reach around to zip it.

“Allow me.” Elliot’s warm breath is on the back of my neck. His long, strong fingers skim my skin as he pulls the zipper up, and I prickle with awareness. He fastens the tiny hook to secure the opening. “Perfect,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” I say, my throat suddenly dry.

He reaches over to the closet island where he keeps his cufflinks and pulls out a small velvet box. “Here. These should finish the look.”

Inside the box are diamond earrings. They’re so long they almost skim my shoulders. I put them on, and have to admit Elliot has an amazing eye. “Wow. These are stunning.”

He kisses my temple. “And you look absolutely beautiful.”

A longing deeper than anything sexual pulses through me. It’s perverse as hell, but I want him to look at me…really look at me, rather than the girl he’s trying to recreate.

After I slip on a pair of white stilettos, we go downstairs together. I survey the area with a critical eye. A hundred white orchids perfume the air—I don’t even want to think about how much they cost, but Elliot decided we should have them. The table is set up with a non-alcoholic punch for Nonny—her favorite drink—and decanted bottles of red and white plus scotch since Elliot seems to like it a lot and I remember him saying it’s Ryder’s favorite as well. There are also blocks of gourmet cheese and crackers and warmed nuts to be had before the actual dinner.

Nonny’s already waiting for us in the living room. She’s put on a fitted magenta dress with a scoop neckline and a flirty hem that ends an inch below her mid-thigh. Her earrings are golden hoops, the pair that Dad gave her.

“You look great,” I say.

“Thanks! So do you! And wow, Elliot!”

He hugs her. “You look awesome.” Then he bends until he can do his stage whisper. “I think Ryder’s coming.”

Nonny lets out a squeal. Elliot jerks back, hands over his ears.

“Oh my god! Ryder Reed!” She starts hopping in her heels. “Oh my god! Ohmygod!” She rushes to the bathroom. “Why didn’t you tell me? I have a zit on my forehead!”

I roll my eyes. “Which nobody can see but you.” My sister’s been blessed with our mother’s perfect skin.

“No, it’s huge!” she yells from the bathroom. “I have to put on more concealer.”

“If you turn that area into a cake, he’s definitely going to notice.”

“Shut up!”

Elliot chuckles. “Everyone in the family’s so blasé about him.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. To be fair, we grew up with him, so even though he is an uncommonly good-looking bastard, we’ve become immune to it.”

I consider that with a bit of bemusement. What is it like to be surrounded by so much beauty that you no longer appreciate it the way most people do? I can’t imagine myself becoming inured to anything like that. And I hope it never happens.

Elizabeth is the first to arrive. Elliot was right about her outfit. She’s in a pink dress a lot like the one I was going to wear. She’s carrying a bottle of red, which Elliot accepts with a hum of appreciation and a squeezing arm around her shoulders.

She gives me a hug. “Welcome to the family.” She also puts her arms around Nonny, who has finally emerged from the bathroom. “Hey there. You’re looking gorgeous.”

“You think so?” Anxiety laces my sister’s voice. “You can’t see anything on my forehead?”

Elizabeth frowns. “No. What am I looking for?”

“Before you ask, her vision’s fine,” Elliot says dryly, making me chortle.

Nonny sticks her tongue out at him.

“Ryder?” Elliot says, and my sister’s head swivels back to him.

“Not here yet? He texted me and said he was going to be late.”

Nonny’s eyes go wide. “How late?”

“Oh, he’ll be in time for dinner,” Elliot says with a snort. “He loves free food.”

“If it’s gourmet,” Elizabeth adds. She looks at the flowers and the table. “Wow, you did amazing. I love how intimate and elegant this is.”

I flush. “Thank you.”

The next guest is Blake Pryce-Reed. He’s Elizabeth’s oldest brother, but looks nothing like her or Elliot. Something about his features does remind me of Ryder Reed; he has the same distinctive profile. Blake is in black, and with his near-black hair, he looks forbidding. It doesn’t help that he stands with an entitled arrogance and hauteur, his lean, muscular body tall, spine straight. The corners of his mouth lift in what I guess is supposed to be a smile, but the cool grimness on his face ruins the effort. “So. You’re the bride.”

I tilt my chin. “Yes.”

“I can’t decide between congratulations or condolences.”

“You’re such an ass,” Elliot says.

“If honesty makes one an ass…”

“No wonder you’re friendly with that sociopath.”

Blake snorts. “Don’t let Ryder’s bias mess with your judgment. That ‘sociopath’ may become your brother-in-law.”

Elliot laughs. “Not unless Lucas decides to start playing for the other team.”

“Dane’s going to marry Sophia.”

Elliot’s eyes almost bug out. “What?” It’s the first time I’ve seen him really surprised by anything. “Are they both high?”

“Quite sober, last time I saw them.”

My mind blanks for a moment, then horror seeps into me. “Who’s Sophia? Is she your sister?” Elliot didn’t say anything about another sister, so the poor woman wasn’t even invited.

“Half-sister,” Elliot says. “And cousin. Told you it was messy. But I don’t know her that well, and I’m certain she has no interest in attending this dinner. Dane, either.” He adds, “He’s a cousin on the Pryce side of the family. Thankfully he’s not my cousin.”

My head spins with the info. Good god. What a contorted family tree.

“Is Dad going to show?” Blake asks.

“Yes, along with Number Six.”

“Marvelous. Hopefully she’ll get drunk and pass out quickly.” He stalks away.

“Wow. Why does he hate her so much?” I ask.

“Nobody likes her, except for Dad…maybe. She’s probably younger than you,” Elliot says. “Just wait. She could make a brick look smart.”

I don’t have to wait for more than a few minutes before Elliot’s father, Julian Reed, and his wife Tiffany show up. He isn’t that tall, but he radiates a vibrant energy that makes him appear bigger than he really is. And the bespoke suit he wears gives him an air of authority and power. His golden hair is cut conservatively and expensively—finally explaining where Elizabeth got her coloring. His dark brown eyes take me in, and a small frown mars his otherwise smooth forehead. “You’re Annabelle Key?” he asks.

“Gigi,” Elliot corrects.

I stiffen.

“And now Reed,” he adds.

“Right.” Julian nods, but his sharp gaze assesses me, scraping my nerve endings like sandpaper. Unease chills my belly. Abruptly, he gestures at the woman next to him. “My wife, Tiffany.”

“Hi,” the brunette says breathily.

She’s gorgeous, the kind of woman that you see in beauty magazines. Her curls frame a doll-like face, and she’s generous with her smiles. Unfortunately her eyes seem to be a bit blank. The fitted red dress displays all her assets so that everyone can see exactly what snagged a rich, older husband. Her manicured fingers flex around a Fendi clutch that matches her dress. The sparkling gems around her neck say she’s being kept in style.

“I’m so happy you invited me! We’re going to get along so well,” she says. “And I love the dress. You really look pretty. And the ring! Let me see!” She snags my hand without waiting. “Oh wow. It’s so big. Is he going to get you a matching necklace and bracelet? No? You should ask. Men can be so obtuse about stuff like that. Diamonds are really better in sets. It’s amazing. I always wanted a cute daughter-in-law I could go shopping with.” She hooks her arm around mine. “Just don’t have any babies, okay? I’m way too young to be a grandma!”

I sputter. “I…we, ah, aren’t thinking of getting pregnant at the moment.” Or ever.

“That’s really smart. Nothing ruins your figure like a baby. Just imagine. Your belly will never be tight after it gets stretched out like that. A body isn’t like spandex, you know? Ryder’s wife is going to have a baby soon. Can you imagine? She’s already so…well, big, to put it kindly. She’ll never lose that weight if she has the baby now. And then what? It isn’t like men stay with women who blow up just because they have children together.”

Oh my god. I look around for a way to escape from the monologue. I catch Elizabeth’s eyes, and she shakes her head and mouths, I’m so sorry.

“Would you like some wine?” I offer.

“Do I see a punch bowl over there? I think I want that. Did you make it?”

“Yes! It’s a special recipe I have.”

“Great. Then I’d love some.”

I serve her a glass and then, while she’s busy juggling the clutch and the punch, make my escape.

“When is Ryder Reed showing up?” Nonny hisses, grabbing my wrist when I pass by.

“I don’t know. Elizabeth says he’s going to be late, but Elliot seems confident he’s going to show. Don’t worry.” I look at the drink table. Tiffany’s gone. “Why don’t you have some punch while you’re waiting. I’m sorry it’s not your kind of event, but—”

“It’s okay.” She beams. “I’m going to meet Ryder Reed! You’re the best.” She wraps her arms around my waist.

An unexpected lump forms in my throat. “For what?” I croak.

“For all this. It’s so awesome.”

I hug her back. “It’s my pleasure, Nonny.”

The reception is nothing like I imagined. Everyone’s so stiff. Well, that isn’t really true. Everyone was okay until Julian and his wife showed up. Not that I can blame Elizabeth, Blake or Elliot. I don’t know how I’d react if my dad appeared with a new wife younger than me.

I scowl as Tiffany puts her hand on Nonny’s shoulder and talks even though my sister stands stiffly. Either the woman’s clueless or maybe she doesn’t care. I don’t know which. Julian ignores everyone around him and nurses his scotch. His head is tilted, and he looks at me speculatively now and again. Maybe he’s heard about my dad and is wondering what his son is doing with someone like me. Does he know Elliot first met me in a strip club? Does that even matter, given how little attention he’s paying to his children? He hasn’t said hello to anyone except Elizabeth.

Nonny finally manages to extricate herself from Tiffany’s clutches and goes for her third punch, then sits with Elizabeth. I check with the chef and the staff to make sure everything’s all right. Except for the awkwardness of the guests, things are going okay. I don’t want anyone to find fault with what I’ve done.

After enough mingling and pre-meal drinks, it’s time for dinner. I hired a chef per Elliot’s recommendation, and thankfully the robust Italian man has taken care of everything.

Just as we’re moving to the dining table, the doorbell rings, and Ryder Reed walks in with his wife. I’ve seen the couple’s pictures on the Internet.

He is just as gorgeous as in the photos and movies. Actually I think he’s better looking in person. A big grin splits his stunning face framed by dark hair. His skin is tanned, but not overly so, and he’s in khaki shorts and a casual blue polo shirt that brings out his eyes. His blond wife is in a purple dress with an empire waist.

“Finally made it!” he announces. “Sorry we’re late. Silly thunderstorm.”

“Oh. My. God.” Nonny’s words are almost slurred. I press my lips to contain a smile. Guess she can’t even talk in presence of the actor.

Standing up, she lurches, moving unsteadily. Ryder directs his multi-million dollar smile her way. “So you must be Nonny, my new sister-in-law.”

“Yeah,” she breathes out. Suddenly she slumps forward, her head landing smack in the middle of Ryder’s chest.

I gape. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry.” I rush toward Nonny, my face flaming.

She folds over, and Ryder catches her before she hits the floor. His nose wrinkles. “Has she been drinking?”

My blood turns icy. “What?” I kneel by her and sniff. Sure enough, there is a hint of alcohol on her breath. I jerk back. “This doesn’t make any sense. She knows she isn’t supposed to have anything with alcohol.” And I haven’t seen her touch anything but the punch I prepared specifically for her.

Nonny’s abandoned glass is on the coffee table. Elliot sniffs the liquid that’s still in it, then takes a sip. “Champagne,” he says.

I don’t understand. “What are you talking about?”

“Somebody spiked the punch.”

Cold sweat covers my palms and leaves a shivery trail down my spine. Fury throbs at the base of my skull. “Who would do that?” I jump to my feet, blood roaring in my ears. “Who the fuck dumped champagne in the punch?” My voice is shrill.

“Oh my gosh, what’s the big deal?” Tiffany says. “I put some in to spice things up. Who drinks such a bland punch?”

“You!” I march toward her. If she weren’t Elliot’s stepmother… “Are you freaking insane? She’s a minor!”

“She’s fifteen. I started drinking even younger.” Tiffany rolls her eyes. “Everyone in Europe drinks when they’re teenagers, and they’re fine. If you’d let her indulge once in a while, she wouldn’t be such a lightweight.”

I clench my hands, my arms stiff. I so want to slap that superior expression off her face. “Get out,” I say between my teeth.

“Excuse me?” she says, a hand over her chest.

“Get. Out. You aren’t welcome here.”

“You can’t do that.” She turns to Elliot. “Tell your wife! She can’t just order me to get out. This is your home.”

“And now hers as well,” Elliot says, his voice cold.

She looks at Julian. “Say something! I won’t stand for this disrespect.”

“I won’t stand for yours either,” I say before Julian can weigh in. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to get a young girl drunk without her knowledge or consent? Thank god she was with people who care about her, but…” I swallow the rest as ugly memories I’ve worked so hard to ignore start pushing at me. “Get out. Now!”

Julian gives me a narrow-eyed look, then he shrugs. “Let’s go.”

“We can’t just go like this!” Tiffany points at everyone but Julian and herself. “This kind of stuff happens because you’re too easy on your kids.”

Blake raises his eyes heavenward. “Oh, yes. God save us from overindulgent parents.”

“See that?” Tiffany gestures at him. “Obvious disrespect!”

“Tif, we are leaving. Now.” Julian’s voice is hard, full of authority.

It cows her, and she takes her clutch and leaves, head held high. You’d think I was the one being unfair.

I gather Nonny in my arms and spare a brief glance at my guests. “You should go ahead and eat. I’ll take care of my sister.” I breathe in deeply. Embarrassment and anger swirl inside me, a volatile mixture like a bomb about to go off. I tilt my chin and face Elliot and his siblings. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. But the chef has done some amazing work, so you should go ahead and enjoy the dinner. Nonny and I will be fine.”

“If you need my—” Elliot begins.

“No!” I stop, realizing I almost screamed at him. I inhale deeply, doing my best to defuse the bomb in my head. “No,” I say again, more calmly this time. “You’re the host. I can take care of my sister myself.”