Before he could speak, I began, “I’m talking to you directly for one reason: I want you to understand that I’m not bluffing. If you go further than I want on this agreement, I will talk and I’ll talk loudly.”

His lip twitched before he asked, “What did you agree to do?”

“Bryce and I have stayed in touch. Now that I’ve returned to the East Coast, we have agreed to talk and see more of one another. That’s it,” I qualified. “Nothing more. No big announcement. No secretive, passionate love. Take it or leave it.”

Alton nodded at another guest I didn’t know and lowered his voice. Leaning closer he whispered, “Alexandria, I will not be threatened. I’ll take your offer—for now. This isn’t done, and when it all plays out, remember you have only yourself to blame.”

The fruity stench of his breath churned the seafood in my stomach, making the earlier acrobatics it had been doing a pleasant memory. “When what plays out?” I asked. “What do you mean, and why?”

People continued to move nearby. Alton’s liquor-stained teeth peered between his thin lips as he forced a smile. “Why what, dear?”

“Why go to all this trouble for Bryce?”

“We can discuss this at another more appropriate time. This isn’t the place.”

I kept my voice low and raised my brows. “I’m playing nice. Give me something. I want to know why.”

The hairs on the back of my neck came to attention as his large hand splayed across my shoulder. To the outside world—to people two feet away—we were a happy family, father and daughter, having a pleasant conversation. “Your mother,” he said. “She cares about Suzanna. It affects Montague Corporation.”

“Alton, I don’t mean to interrupt.” Senator Higgins’ booming voice rippled over my shoulder.

“Not at all, Grant. Alexandria and I can continue our talk another time. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Instead of responding, I turned toward the politician. “Senator, thank you for attending my party. It’s an honor to have you here.”

He shook my hand. As I was about to retrieve it, he held tight and said, “I’m always happy to meet with your dad and lovely mother, but tonight I’m pleased to meet one of the future litigators of our fine state.” He looked past me to Alton and back. “And such a pretty little one, too.”

Chauvinist!

I forced the tips of my pressed lips to rise. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me?”

He released my hand after a condescending pat. “Certainly, young lady. It was nice to meet you.”

My skin crawled as I walked away.

Alton never did tell me what would play out, and I sure as hell didn’t buy his answer about why he was helping Bryce. I didn’t. It didn’t make sense. This entire scenario didn’t need to negatively affect Montague Corporation. That was Alton’s call, at least from the story he’d told me. He could have agreed to withdraw Montague’s offer to employ Bryce. Most large companies had ethics clauses. Montague Corporation could have easily cited that as a reason to withdraw their earlier offer.

“Alexandria.”

I turned toward the kind voice.

“I have to warn you, you’re going to miss it.”

My Montague mask morphed into a real smile as I looked at Miss Betty. “Stanford, you mean?”

“Yes,” she replied wistfully, “and the freedom.”

“Freedom?”

She took another drink from her glass. Small bubbles moved upward in her sparkling wine. From her tone and the way she swayed slightly side to side, I presumed it wasn’t her first glass. Not everyone could hold their liquor like my mother. It also seemed that my alma mater had brought back memories that she’d tucked away.

She squeezed my hand. “You still have three more years. Take it from me, life happens too fast. Marriage, children, shit.” Her eyes popped open, and she playfully covered her mouth. “I didn’t say that aloud, did I?”

I giggled and shook my head. “Say what, Miss Betty? I didn’t hear a thing.”

“You, young lady, will go far. And I’m not just saying that because of Stanford.” She held onto my arm and scanned the grand hall. “This is such a lovely home. I’ve had a wonderful time, but I think it’s time I get my driver, and we head home.”

“Thank you for coming.”

I helped her to the door and made sure that one of the staff alerted her driver. I’d known Miss Betty most of my life, yet for the first time, it was as if I’d seen the real woman behind the mask.

Smoke and mirrors.

Dog and pony shows.

Why would anyone choose to live in this world of delusion?

Hearing my name, I turned toward a group of people. Shit! It was Millie, Ian, Jess, Leslie, two men I didn’t recognize, and Bryce. I’d been wrong earlier. Now, the show was about to start. Why the hell did it need to be with Bryce and Millie?

“ALEX, CAN WE talk?” Bryce asked with a grin. The small dimple on his chin revealed a glimpse of the boy who’d been my friend.

Most of the guests had left, Mother had retired to her suite, and Alton was in the den with some men whose names I couldn’t remember. The household staff as well as the caterers, were working tirelessly to clean away any evidence of the celebration. Soon Montague Manor would be exactly as it had been earlier today, last year, a hundred years ago.

I’d been ignoring Bryce for most of the party. Our story was that we’d spoken, not that we were close. Besides, standing by his side and talking with old academy friends was almost as appealing as a Brazilian wax. It only took me a single time to decide that wasn’t for me. I knew before I walked over to the group of vultures that I didn’t want to be among them.

He reached for my hand.

“We can talk,” I confirmed as I retrieved my hand. “Touching is prohibited.”

He nodded. “Some things never change.”

“Around here nothing changes.”

Warm air surrounded us as we walked out onto the back terrace. Stars dotted the night sky while the incessant hum of crickets replaced the clatter of dishes inside the house. Although I detested everything about Savannah and my childhood home, there was something peaceful about the leaden humidity and silence that came with the estate.

“Do you really plan on never returning?” Bryce asked. “I mean, I know you have memories. You never said exactly, but this is your home.” He spun around and looked up at the massive structure. “How could you not want to live here?”

I shrugged and brushed my hand along the rough stone banister. The large limestone steps descended to the lower lawns. Fireflies twinkled in the distance. When I was little I thought they were fairies, like Tinkerbell. I was convinced if I caught one, it would change into a fairy and grant me my wish. It was another childhood fantasy that didn’t come true.

The house was constructed on a hill, allowing it to oversee the vast land behind. Hundreds of years ago that land was filled with one-room houses, tobacco fields, stables, and barns. The old structures were gone, as if erasing that time in our family’s history was that easy. Now it was covered with the best that money could buy: a large pool, flower gardens, and better-constructed buildings. The biggest addition to the property was a lake.

Who can decide they want a lake and get a lake? A Montague can.

This time of year, the manmade creation would be nothing but a puddle in the Georgia clay if it weren’t for the pump that pulled water from the depths of the earth, filtering it through sand to keep the lake not only full, but fresh. It was still astonishing how well it worked, but near the turn of the twentieth century, when my great-great grandfather had it installed, it had been an amazing feat of engineering.

Nothing but the best at Montague Manor—on the surface at least.