Page 9 of The Inquirer

Fortunately, she was already on the porch. Even though I wasn’t at an angle where I could see her actually go into her cabin, the fact that she didn’t come back down off the porch made me think she was safely inside. At least with no other guests here right now, I didn’t have to worry if she’d locked her door.

It was a good thing we hadn’t ended up in a relationship. I would’ve wanted to throttle her for putting herself in danger the way she had. I knew she was a grown woman and all that, but it didn’t stop me from worrying about something happening to her.

I wasn’t one of those men who thought women ‘asked for it’ or that type of bullshit, but the world sucked. That meant that people needed to take precautions that wouldn’t have been necessary if everyone just treated others decently.

My mom had always called those opinions my ‘wide-eyed dreamer way of thinking.’ My father hadn’t been nearly that polite. Naïve had probably been the nicest thing he’d called me.

None of my family had ever understood how I could look for the positive in things but still understand how the real world worked. I wasn’t some Pollyanna who thought life was rainbows and lemon drops, but I did think it was possible for people to be good to each other if they just tried. I believed in could, but not necessarily would.

I sighed and stepped away from the window. The last few years had been tough on that way of thinking, and I’d felt myself getting more and more jaded. All of this stuff with Nyx wasn’t helping matters. I’d admired her for how she refused to let her past define her, and then I’d learned that everything she’d said might have been a lie.

And I hated myself for thinking it.

“Should’ve just stayed in bed.” Adding a few choice curses, I went into the bathroom to wipe off my feet before crawling between my sheets.

I usually didn’t have problems falling asleep, even on days where I hadn’t been doing a lot of physical work. I was just one of those people who could close my eyes, decide I wanted to sleep, and a few minutes later, I was out.

Except that wasn’t happening tonight. In fact, it hadn’t been happening all week, not since Nyx had left my hotel room in New York. Every night was the same. I’d lay in bed with my eyes closed, and my mind would replay every moment I’d spent with her.

Sometimes, it was a highlight reel of all the best stuff, and other times it was her panic attacks and nightmare, then her telling me what had happened to her. Other times, it was just that last morning together, me overhearing her, the accusations we’d both made.

No matter what I did, until I finally managed to fall asleep, she was in my head.

Tonight was no different.

Well, a little different since my surprise visitor earlier had dredged up other memories and feelings that now mixed with all my confusion over Nyx.

From the time I’d been old enough to disagree with my family – for real reasons, not teenage nonsense – I’d had to deal with the conflict that came from loving people I didn’t always like or agree with.

When I’d caught Antoinette with my father, I’d learned that I had a point where even love wasn’t enough. Not romantic love, or familial love. I’d ended things with Antoinette before she’d even finished getting dressed. My confrontation with my father had taken longer, but it’d ended up with the same results.

I never wanted to see either of them again.

I was cordial to my mother and sister, but they’d both been furious with me for refusing to have anything to do with my father, even after the story had come out about the affair. I suspected they’d actually known about it before then, but I’d never asked them to choose between Dad and me.

I’d half-expected Mom to leave him once the affair had been made public knowledge, but it hadn’t really surprised me that she hadn’t. Still, we’d managed to stay friendly until I’d released my documentary on Deacon Miller. That had been the last straw, and I’d been completely disinherited. Mom and Ashley had fallen in line then too. Even last year’s Christmas and birthday presents had been returned unopened.

I didn’t know if I’d ever have a relationship with any of them ever again, but if they’d made the effort, I liked to think I’d at least give it a chance. Even with Dad.

Maybe.

Antoinette was a different story.

I hadn’t believed my father’s version of events where she’d pursued him until, in a moment of weakness, he’d given in. They’d been sleeping together for six months.

I also didn’t believe either of Antoinette’s stories. Not the one she’d told me about how they’d fallen in love and had tried to fight it, or the one she’d anonymously told the press about my father using his power to make her feel like she hadn’t had a choice. What I knew of the both of them told me that they’d both pursued each other for their own personal gain, and it’d blown up in their faces.

None of this would’ve mattered at all if she hadn’t sneaked into my home this afternoon.

Just thinking about it pissed me off again.

I liked to think of myself as a fairly laid-back person. I could get intense about things from time to time, but I wasn’t a guy who flew off the handle at the drop of a hat.

Overusing idioms was a sure sign of how tired and frustrated I was.

I hadn’t asked Antoinette why she’d been in my bed; I’d just told her to get out. She’d still been trying to talk when I’d thrown her clothes at her, telling her if she didn’t get dressed, I’d throw her out naked. She hadn’t believed me, but I’d been ready to do it. I was a gentleman, but even a gentleman had his limits.

The thing that bothered me now was that Antoinette’s stunt had led to Nyx getting drunk and kissing Isaac. I wanted it to be because Nyx had put herself into a vulnerable position and then could’ve caused issues with the Huxleys, but that wasn’t the reason I was gritting my teeth in the dark.

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