Page 22 of Fake Dark Vows
The last time I bought a woman’s silence when he’d finished with her, I vowed I wouldn’t do it again.
I swallow my martini in one mouthful.
“Can I get you another drink?” Rose asks.
Godammit, her eyes are huge, and I never noticed the freckle at the corner of her mouth before. “Feel free to make it a little stronger.” I hand over my glass and remember Jennifer’s jibe. “Thanks.”
She nods briefly and flashes a dazzling smile at my father when he calls out, “Rose, more drinks over here when you get a moment.”
Damon waits until she’s out of earshot. “I’ll keep quiet about your friend if you allow me first dibs at the new housekeeper.”
I inhale deeply, fists instinctively clenched.
Damon can’t leave anything untouched, untainted; he has to pick it apart, find out what’s inside, and then discard it when he gets bored. He’s always been the same. Even when we were kids, he would steal my favorite toy cars, ram them into walls and bury them in mud, and then walk away when they no longer provided any entertainment.
“You’re confusing me with someone who cares about the new housekeeper,” I say.
He glugs a mouthful of martini like it’s a soda and sighs as it goes down. “Don’t you?”
I watch Rose pouring drinks, and part of me wants to warn her to beware of the wolf in expensive pants. I want to march her straight out of here, put her on a boat, and point her in the direction of the mainland, with a check in her pocket that will more than cover whatever my mother promised her.
But then I remind myself that if she’s the gold-digger I think she is, she’ll probably welcome my brother’s attention with open arms and her eyes on the prize. She isn’t my responsibility. She’s an adult, and I won’t be there to pick up the pieces when he moves onto his next victim.
Rose returns with another drink for me and not even a glance in Damon’s direction.
Playing hard to get?
I’m struggling to read her—one moment she’s feisty, accusing me of being stuffy, and the next she’s playing caregiver to my nieces … which, inexplicably, was more of a turn-on than dragging her into the restroom on the aircraft and trying to rip her clothes off.
“I made it a double,” she says, and I raise my glass in a mock toast.
When she moves on to refill Ron and my father’s glasses, I murmur under my breath to Damon, “Be my guest. A thousand dollars says you won’t crack her.”
I don’t know where it came from, and I hope I won’t live to regret it.
Perhaps it’s sheer vanity that I want her to want me rather than my brother. Or perhaps, after the incident on the aircraft, I believe that Damon coming on too strong will simply make her hold out for more. Either way, the mental image of Rose and my brother getting hot and sweaty in her guestroom isn’t something that I care to watch on repeat.
A sly smile appears on his face. “Make it ten grand, and you’re on.”
I follow his gaze. Jennifer is chatting animatedly with our mother and Sumaira, and both women are watching her, enraptured—Jennifer’s appeal isn’t solely confined to the male species.
“Deal.”
“This week is suddenly proving to be a whole lot more fun than Mom intended.”
Kelly comes out of the house then with her three daughters who are all dressed in matching cotton dungarees and snowy-white T-shirts, all managing to display a little of their own personalities, nonetheless. Georgie, the baby, is sporting a bandaid on her knee with an image of a Disney character. Charlie, the middle one, frowns at the people on the porch like they’ve spoiled all her plans for having the swing seats to herself. While Frankie runs straight to her grandma and throws her arms around her in a warm hug.
Damon plays the dutiful father and greets his wife with a kiss on her cheek. No eye contact. It’s been a while since I last saw them together, and things haven’t improved; no doubt, my brother’s cheating isn’t helping the situation, although he would probably argue that he only does it because he gets no affection at home.
I’m still watching Kelly when my mom touches my arm gently and asks me to follow her inside. The chatter of voices fades when we enter the living room, and she closes the door gently behind us.
“What were you thinking, Brandon?” Her spine is straight as always, her chin slightly tilted towards the ceiling. “Bringing that woman with you.”
“Jennifer is an extremely intelligent and ambitious businesswoman, Mom. If you take the time to get to know her, you might find that you like her.”
“You know what I’m talking about, Brandon. This would’ve been the perfect opportunity for you to introduce us to the real woman in your life.”
I smile. It isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. I don’t even need to ask her how she figured out Jennifer’s background. “How do you know that Jennifer isn’t the woman in my life?”