Betrayal (Infidelity Book 1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,44

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.

I slipped off my shoes and stepped onto the perfectly manicured lawn. Even under the cover of night, Montague Manor was a beautiful prison. Trying to keep the shadows at bay, as Jane had said, I concentrated on fond memories. They were there. And as much as I hated to admit it, many of those from my childhood included Bryce.

“Do you remember swimming in the lake?” he asked.

I grinned. “Yes. Our mothers would get so mad. They were sure it wasn’t safe and wanted us in the pool instead.”

“Nessie,” we both said with a laugh.

“I think they were the ones who told us about her. You were never afraid of Nessie. I was,” Bryce admitted.

“You were? You never acted like it.”

“Because I’m a guy. Guys can’t show fear, and you were younger than me. I couldn’t let a little girl be braver than me.”

“I don’t know if it was so much being brave as it was defiant. And unbeknownst to my