With the collar around my neck, I’m somehow more free than I’ve ever been.
Even while riding a tire swing barefoot or frolicking with fireflies in the wilderness.
I feel like I could leap from the top of the staircase and float down, into the entry area where guests are beginning to congregate in their finery. But I’m not nervous about how the night will unfold, like I thought I would be. There’s power flowing through me. It’s not coming from the the thin strip of leather Tristan clasped around my throat, but that leather choker is a reminder of the authority I hold. It’s a reminder of my position in the relationship with the man descending the stairs behind me. How much I’m needed. How much I need in return.
My sex is swollen between my thighs, still tingling from my stepbrother’s hostile treatment. My nipples are sensitive from his palms. I want to make a good impression tonight, so I remind myself for the tenth time that I checked myself in the mirror. Apart from my flushed cheeks, there are no outward signs of what happened in Tristan’s office. No one is the wiser.
Well.
My stepfather is aware of my relationship with his son now. But I recall Elton’s face when he opened the door and he wasn’t surprised. It was almost as though he expected to find Tristan and me entangled on the desk. It was also obvious he isn’t happy about it.
I avoid Elton’s gaze as I enter the spacious entryway, although his attention burns along my shoulders. Two dozen or so guests milling around making small talk, receiving glasses of bubbly champagne from silver trays. Jewelry from the female guests winks in the candlelight, uniformed waitresses easily weave in and out of groups unnoticed. The men, coiffed and dapper in their suits, eye me with interest. Maybe even with lust, which I now recognize.
When my presence in the room begins to be the cause of speculation, Mama clinks a spoon to her champagne flute. “Thank you so much for coming, everyone. We’re glad you could make it. We’ve invited you to dinner at Governor Garner’s home this evening for dinner, but we must confess to an ulterior motive.” She smiles warmly at my stepbrother, who is standing just beyond my shoulder. “Governor, would you like to do the honors?”
“Yes, thank you, Rebecca.”
Tristan’s professional tone is so different from the one that rasps in my ear. Robust and confident, but definitely no less sexy. I paste a fond smile onto my face and turn to meet his eyes, my hands folded politely at my waist. The way I practiced with my etiquette instructor when we went over the proper behavior when introduced tonight.
A flicker of heat passes through his eyes and my core clenches, the moment passing too quickly for anyone to notice but the two of us.
No one will ever know about the two of us.
I’ve known this. But somehow having the collar around my neck makes the realization hit harder. Hit…differently. We could stay together forever, but only ever in secret. There will be no wedding. No children. Just secrecy. Hidden symbolism under my clothes, just like the love bruises and bites he leaves on me.
My thoughts must show on my face because Tristan hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly, before he continues.
“We have a new addition to the Garner family. It is my honor to present you Miss Cate Worthington. My stepsister and Rebecca’s daughter from a previous marriage.” He smiles right through the ensuing commotion. “Until recently, she was living with her father down south, but she’s chosen to make her home in Connecticut and we couldn’t be more pleased to have her.”
Remembering what I was taught, I make sure to look at least five people in the eye and smile, nothing to hide. If I pretend there is nothing out of the ordinary, they won’t go digging into my past and find out my father died a year ago. That I was a minor left to my own devices. Or that Rebecca had walked out on her family to marry Elton.
“Thank you,” I say smoothly, accepting a champagne glass from one of the passing trays, holding it up. “I’m too young to drink this. You won’t tell anyone, will you?” I laugh and the room laughs along with me. “I look forward to meeting all of you.” Two men, who appear to be reporters, scribble onto notepads and absently, I notice one of them is wearing Superman cuff links. “In the meantime, thank you to my mother, stepfather and the governor for welcoming me so warmly into the fold. Cheers, everyone.”
The next hour is a blur.
Mama escorts me from group to group and I answer questions about life in the south. Questions about the heat, mostly. For some reason these people are super fixated on weather. I deftly avoid any specific mention of the town where I lived and my father’s name. Distracted by ample champagne and the appetizer service, no one seems to find anything amiss, nor do they see fit to question my mother about her previous marriage.
An older woman pulls Mama to the side to speak about a political proposal and I’m left alone for the first time in an hour. My mouth hurts from talking, so I fade into the shadows and take the opportunity to recharge, automatically seeking out Tristan with my gaze. And there he is, across the room, looking presidential and formidable, men gathered around him and hanging on every word. Mid-sentence, his attention zeroes in on me and heats, causing a low tug in my belly.
I avert my eyes, but run a finger along the jewelry beneath my clothes and I know he sees me, because I hear him clear his throat hard.
Smiling to myself, I start to venture toward the backyard for some fresh air, but a young man steps into my path. “Miss Worthington? I was hoping I’d have a chance to say hello.” His eyes seem kind, so I shake the hand he offers, smiling back. “I’m Greg Turner. One of the governor’s junior advisors.” His smile is broad, revealing a crooked front tooth. “I was wondering if you were planning to work for the campaign.”
I don’t have to dig far for my practiced answer. “No. But I’ll be working on my mother’s charitable committees, and since the governor is involved so often, I’ll suppose I’ll be working with the campaign indirectly on occasion.”
“Ah.” He nods, stepping closer, if hesitantly, and there’s a blush forming on his cheeks. “That’s too bad. I was kind of hoping I’d see you around the offices—”
“Is there something you need, Mr. Turner?” Tristan asks, stepping into view. “If not, I believe my stepsister has enjoyed enough of your attention.”
“Sorry, Governor.” Greg puts a larger gap of distance between us. “You’re right, I’m monopolizing her time. My apologies, Miss Worthington.”
I shake my head, trying to comfort him with a smile. “No need to apologize.”
Greg sighs, seemingly transfixed by me.
“You were going?” Tristan prompts Greg when he lingers.
The young man jolts, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Right. Sorry.”
Greg scurries off, melting into a group of men in suits.
Tristan’s back is to the rest of the room, so no one can see the hard look he gives me. “And so it begins,” he mutters. “Did you have to be so fucking beautiful, Cate?”
With that, he turns on a heel and rejoins his group, snapping a glass of champagne off a nearby tray and downing it in one gulp. It’s the briefest of encounters with my stepbrother and yet my knees are shaking, my pulse drumming crazily. As the evening wears on, it’s getting harder to hide my attraction to him in a room full of people. I want to be pressed up against his side, I want him to lean down and kiss me while someone else tells a story.
But that’ll never happen.
My gnawing worries are given a voice when my stepfather appears at my elbow, a glass of liquor in his hand. “He’ll never acknowledge you. Not the way you need.”
I flush to my hairline.
Not only have I been caught doubting my relationship with Tristan, but this is the man who saw me nearly naked an hour ago, seconds away from an orgasm. I barely resist the urge to curl my arms around myself protectively.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” I whisper through cold lips.
“His political career will always come first.” Elton lowers his voice. “Did you think this makeover might give you a chance with him? Out in the open?”
No.
No, I didn’t think that. Did I?
Yes. Deep, deep down I did.
Maybe I believed on some level that these supposed improvements might make me worthy of love in the light. With Tristan. If not that, there is definitely a huge part of me that wishes I didn’t need to be transformed at all. That I could be loved just for me. I would have been content with that. But it’s too late. I’ve allowed it to happen. I was so worried about making my new family ashamed of me, I’ve shamed myself. Who I was. Where I’ve been.
“This will hold him back, career-wise, you know. With a wife and children, he might have a real shot at the White House. But it’ll never happen now, they’ll uncover his dirty little secret eventually. It always comes out in the wash.”
Dirty little secret.
This is what I was afraid of. That the words Tristan whispers in my ear during sex would reach outside the bedroom. Follow me into real life. I love the way that sentiment makes me feel when he’s inside me, but I don’t like them now. The warm glow that was wrapped around me on the way downstairs is gone, replaced with barbed wire digging into my skin.
“Cate.” I shake myself out of my thoughts and find Tristan looking down at me. When did he cross the room? “She’s upset,” he growls at Elton. “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing that wasn’t true.”
A muscle hops in Tristan’s cheek. I watch the angry movement happen through a blur, thanks to the unwanted tears clouding my vision. “Tristan,” I manage. “It’s fine.”
“Look at you. It’s not fine.” He takes two harsh breaths. “Get everyone out of my house. Now.”
The order causes his father to do a double take. “What? Are you serious?”
“Get. Everyone. Out.” Tristan speaks through his teeth. “Or I’ll throw them out.”
Rebecca notices the tension and joins us with a forced smile. “Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not. The party is over.”
Tristan’s no-nonsense tone registers with my mother and she doesn’t question him, cogs turning behind her eyes. “I’m so sorry, everyone,” she calls, turning to face the room. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling well. We’re going to have to cut this party short.”
The four of us don’t move as the guests collect their things and file out of the house, accepting small gifts on their way out from yet another silver tray. Tristan looks like he’s going to snap, Elton is visibly nervous and as usual, my mother is smoothing everything over with the confused people who only got half a party.
The door closes on the final guest and I hold my breath.
“The catering staff is still afoot,” Rebecca says quietly. “Let’s be mindful of that.”
A beat passes. And then my stepbrother is threading his fingers through mine, leading me down toward the east wing of the house, our parents hurrying behind us to keep up. He closes the four of us inside a large study I haven’t been inside before.
“I’ll ask again,” Tristan says, enunciating each word in his father’s direction. “What did you say to Cate to make her upset?”
As he asks the question, I’m reeled into his arms and held tightly against his chest.
His thumb strums my spine and I hear my mother’s intake of breath. Her realization that there’s a lot more than meets the eye to my relationship with Tristan—and I find myself unconcerned about her judgment. I knew exactly what I was doing entering into this relationship. Just like I learned how to make my own decisions when she left. “Oh, Cate…”
“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t obvious,” snaps Elton, interrupting his wife. “She’s the dirty little secret that’s going to keep you out of the White House. It’s a fact.”
Tristan bristles, the skin of his throat heating against my forehead. “How dare you speak to her like that,” he growls. “There’s nothing dirty about her. Cate, do not listen to him.”
“Why not? He’s right,” I croak, pushing out of Tristan’s hold. Looking up into his handsome face, so stunned over my pronouncement. “You can’t tell anyone about me. You can’t hold my hand or kiss me in public. We’ll have to sneak around. Forever. And I thought…it was so stupid to think if I become a lady, that might change. Of course it won’t. It can’t. Not without ruining your life.” He says my name raggedly, his expression shocked, but I swipe at my tears and press on before he can continue. “And I don’t want to do that, Tristan. I don’t want to be some huge liability to you. Not when you could be president one day. M-maybe I should go back to North Carolina and—”
“No.” Tristan seizes my arms, a crazed expression on his face. “Take yourself away from me? Leave me? Do you think I would survive that?”
In my periphery, I see my mother sink onto an ottoman, hands covering her mouth.
“He said you would never put me before your political career,” I whisper, moisture raining down my cheeks, dripping off my chin. “And you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t throw it all away for me. Don’t let me ruin you. I’m…” I gesture to the expensive dress. “This isn’t even me. This is just what you want me to be. And if the old me wasn’t good enough, then I’m not.”
“No. No.” Tristan gets down on his knees, burying the crown of his head in my stomach and gathering me close. “I didn’t want to change a single thing about you, baby. You were perfect. You are perfect. I just wanted to protect you and I let it get too far. Goddammit, Cate, I’ve been in love with you since the glen. I wanted you any way I could get you.”
I want to believe him, but I don’t know if I can. Here I am in these uncomfortable shoes after a night of speaking in someone else’s voice.
And Tristan sees the doubt in my eyes. It forces a gruff denial from his throat. Faster than I can track his movements, he’s on his feet, throwing open the doors of the study.
“Where are you going?” shouts Elton.
“To drag the damn reporter back. We’re making this right.”
What does he mean? Make this right?
With my heart in my throat, I run out of the room after Tristan, but his long stride means he’s already eaten up a lot of ground. He throws open the front door and pauses, moving again once he spies who he’s looking for. Everyone else has gone, taillights disappearing down the long driveway. All except for one guest. One of the reporters I saw earlier, the one with the Superman cuff links, is smoking a cigarette beside his car. He stubs it out under his toe and prepares to climb into his vehicle, but pauses when he sees Tristan thundering in his direction.
“You,” Tristan barks, “How about an exclusive?”
“Sure,” the man answers automatically, fumbling for a pen in his jacket. “Do you mind if I record this on my phone?”
“Be my guest.”
By this time, our parents have joined us outside. I manage to tear my attention off Tristan long enough to see my mother appears apprehensive, confused, while my stepfather is panicked. “Tristan, don’t do this. Don’t throw it away for nothing.”
“Nothing?” Slowly, he turns, his eyes glittering even in the darkness. “Try everything. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m doing what I have to do to keep what matters most. Her.” His eyes find me a few feet away and I suck in a breath at the intensity there. “I deserve to start from scratch for letting her think for one fucking second that she wasn’t good enough. I hurt the girl who I love. And that makes me not good enough.”
At some point during Tristan’s speech, the reporter has turned on his phone, holding it up and catching every word. “You…” The man’s eyes tick between me and my stepbrother, putting the pieces together. “You and Miss Worthington are…together. Your relationship goes beyond stepbrother and stepsister. That’s what you’re telling me?”
“Yes. Well beyond.” He stops to clear the emotion from his throat. “I’m in love with her. And somehow, after everything I’ve done, she loves me back.”
A sound trips out of my mouth, tears rushing to my eyes.
Elton curses vilely.
The reporter appears dumbfounded. “Experts are calling you a shoo-in for the presidential nomination after one more term as governor. You’re willing to lose that chance?”
Tristan’s gaze burns into mine. “She’s worth it. She’s always been worth it.”
I don’t think. I simply run to him, throwing my arms around his waist and letting myself be picked up off the ground. “I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely into my neck. “I’m sorry. I was an idiot. No more pretending to be anything but my Cate, okay? My angel from the glen.”
Moisture leaves my eyes, soaking into the shoulder of his jacket. My heart swells to the point of nearly bursting. I never would have wished for this, for Tristan to jeopardize everything for our relationship, but I’ve also never felt more loved and valued and safe.
Tristan sets me down reluctantly, holding me against his side to face the reporter. “I expect this will be all over tomorrow morning’s news cycle.”
The reporter purses his lips. “No.”
We exchange a confused look. “No?” prompts Tristan.
“I’m not an idealistic man by any means,” says the reporter, erasing the voice memo of Tristan’s confession. Showing us as he does it. “But I wouldn’t mind having someone as honest and selfless as you running the country, Governor. Someone who knows how to put his ambitions aside for the sake of others will do more for this country than a scandal will.” He winks at us, dropping his phone back into his jacket pocket. “Like I said, though, I’m not totally unselfish. I’ll be expecting a job on the White House press corps when you’re elected. Do we have a deal?”
“No,” Tristan says, his tone adamant. “I need Cate to know I’m serious about her. That I would do anything for her—”
“I do know.” I take him by the lapels of his jacket, stepping in between him and the reporter. “You just showed me. I have all the proof I need.”
He shakes his head. “Cate, please let me do this for you.”
“Don’t you see? You did. You showed me what you’re willing to do. I’ll never doubt you again. Never doubt us again.”
His forehead finds mine, his breath ghosting over my lips. “I want to be with you in the open. God, sweetheart, you deserve that.”
“Someday we will.” I kiss him softly. “But not today. Not when you have so much to give. And I’ll be right there with you. Not a dirty little secret—just a necessary one.”
Silently, brow furrowed, he traces the ridge of my collar. “Are you sure?”
I give him my best smile. An honest one. “Yes.”
Tristan’s jaw flexes, his focus traveling back to the reporter. “You have a deal.”
We hold each other as the reporter gets into his car and drives away. And then Tristan picks me up into his arms and carries me inside, past our silent parents and up the stairs to his bed where I belong. Where I will always belong.
