Betrayal (Infidelity Book 1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,1

waiting.”

Taking a deep breath, I moved my legs outside the car, purposely avoiding his offer of help. “Just Alex, Brantley.”

“Not forever, miss. In no time you’ll have ‘counselor’ in front of your name.” A hint of a smile emerged. The rarely visible emotion threatened to crack the façade of his aloof veneer as his cheeks rose and the deep-set wrinkles brought on by age multiplied near his gray eyes. “Your mother is very proud. She tells everyone how you were accepted to both Yale and Columbia to study law.”

Rubbing my moist palms against my jeans, I looked up—and up—at the pristine walls, spotless windows, and large stately porches. In another place, another time, I would have thanked Brantley for his compliment. I may have even confessed that I was also proud of my accomplishments, but more than that, I would admit to being pleased to hear that my mother still spoke about me, acknowledged that I was her daughter.

The relentless Georgia sun upon my skin and humid air within my lungs confirmed that this wasn’t another place or time. The years of Montague training suppressed any advancement I’d since made in becoming Alex Collins, a real individual with thoughts, feelings, and dreams. In merely the time it took to pick me up at the Savannah airport and drive me into the past, I was once again, Miss Alexandria Charles Montague Collins, the flawless proper lady, pretentious to the help, and people pleaser—the well-bred Southern belle who wore the mask of perfection because no one wanted to see the truth underneath.

It didn’t matter that this was the twenty-first century—not to the bluebloods. This was and would always be the world where appearances were essential. The secrets that darkened the corridors and doorways were forever left unspoken.

The movement of the curtain on the second floor caught my eye. It was so fast that I could have easily missed it. I may have, were it not for the interior location of the window: it was my old bedroom—a place I loathed more than any other.

With his stoic poise returned, Brantley asked, “Shall I take your bags to your room?”

I swallowed. “Not yet. I haven’t decided if I’m staying.”

“But, miss, your mother—”

I lifted my hand dismissively—something I would never have done in California. “Brantley, I’ll let you know my plans once I know them. In the meantime, keep the car in the drive and leave my bags in the trunk.”

Nodding, he murmured, “Yes, miss. I’ll be here.”

He always was.

Did that make him part of the problem or solution?

Biting the inside of my cheek, I gracefully made my way up the cement path.

Why did I come back?

“DON’T LOOK SO guilty. We deserve this!” Chelsea’s hazel eyes sparkled from the glow of the setting sun. We were standing at one of the many railings along the resort edge, overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Inhaling the salt air, I nodded. “We do. We’ve worked hard. I-I guess, I’ve never…”

“Let me help you,” she said with a smirk. “You’ve never let yourself have fun.” With more seriousness, she added, “Your grandparents left you that trust fund. Tell me, when have you ever used the money for anything other than education and essentials?”

I shrugged. “I’m sure if you asked my attorneys, I haven’t always made the best financial decisions regarding either of those.”

“To hell with them.”

That was part of what I loved about Chelsea. No matter the situation, she said exactly what she thought. Granted, sometimes it was too much information, but nonetheless, you knew exactly what you were dealing with.

“Besides,” she went on, “in two years the money will be all yours. You won’t have to answer to some stuffed-shirt lawyer.”

“Hey!”

“You know what I mean. And in three years you’ll be someone else’s lawyer. Then you can tell whomever what they can and can’t do with their own money.”

I scrunched my nose. “I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think civil law is for me. It seems boring. I want something more exciting.”

My best friend’s arms dramatically spread toward the horizon. “I can see it now. Some high-profile case and there you are, on the steps of a big courthouse somewhere.” She spun toward me. “I know! That one on the T.V. show—Law and Order. It’s in New York.” She nudged her shoulder against mine. “The perfect place for a Columbia graduate.”

I didn’t want to think about law school, not yet. I’d just graduated from Stanford and the four years I’d spent in California were undoubtedly the best of