Page 1 of Buck Baxter and the Mysteries of Love

CHAPTER 1

Picture this—

A dazzling dame, richer than God, swans into the Rainbow Palace atop Wilde City Tower, jewels draped across her neckline, diamonds dripping from her earlobes, priceless stones sparkling on every finger. She strides with confidence and poise like some elegant birdlike creature from ancient mythology, turning heads as she graces the room with her presence. Champagne awaits her at a table for two, her silver-haired husband gazing approvingly at the woman he married. He enjoys watching her command the attention of everyone in the room just by walking across it. He adores the way she plays the part of the beautiful, elegant aristocrat, a prize for men to desire and women to envy.

Outside, the sun sinks and stars appear, twinkling like the gemstones she wears.

Inside, waiters arrive with caviar and lobster, poached pears and Chantilly cream, and after dinner the husband and his wife take to the dance floor as the band plays.

By the time their chauffeur-driven Lincoln Limousine drops them off at their mansion in the hills overlooking the lights of thecity, it’s well after midnight. While he fixes a brandy for himself, his wife complains of a headache, no doubt the result of too much champagne and dancing. The husband jokes about her coming down with a case of “affluenza,” and his wife responds with a light shimmer of laughter— exactly what he wants to hear— before she tells him she’ll take the upstairs guest room tonight in case her ailing head interrupts his sleep.

She kisses him goodnight while he pours himself another drink.

Minutes later, the window to the upstairs guest room opens, a square of light falling on the branches of the tree growing next to the house. A woman’s silhouette appears, and as the figure reaches for the nearest branch and climbs out the window, the diamonds that catch the moonlight confirm that it can only be Mrs. Crystal Hart making the daring escape from the mansion.

At one stage, the magnate’s wife loses her grip and almost falls, but she recovers well.

It’s almost as though she’s done this before.

From the side of the house, the Lincoln Limousine rolls quietly along the gravel drive, it’s headlights off. It pulls up beside the tree and the chauffeur jumps out of the vehicle, catching Mrs. Hart as she lets go of the lowest branch and falls into his arms.

The chauffeur is handsome, strong, and half her age.

He places her feet gently on the ground and opens the passenger door for her before closing it soundlessly.

He gets in behind the wheel, and with the engine purring softly the car makes its way slowly down the drive.

Crystal Hart has no idea as she flees with her lover into the night, that hiding behind a tree in the palm grove on the lawns of the estate is her son, Holden. He’s been watching her behavior over the past few weeks, noticing subtle changes in the way she holds herself at the dinner table, sliding her food back and forthto give the appearance that she’s eating, the way she glances away from her husband before she finishes asking him how his day was as though she no longer wants to know the answer, and the way she’s started moving her wedding ring up and down her finger as though the weight of the rock on it is becoming too much to bear.

These are things her husband has failed to notice. He’s far too distracted by the giant moving cogs of Hart Industries to see that his wife has distractions of her own. So long as she plays her part as the loyal, loving wife of the richest man in town, Howard Hart is happy to believe his marriage is as healthy as his bank account.

But their son Holden has noticed the changes in his mother.

He also heard her whispering on the phone the night before, organizing tonight’s secret rendezvous with her lover.

As he steps out of the shadows of the palm grove, watching the car cruise quietly down the drive of the estate, concern grips his heart.

He knows he needs to find a way to end this affair, not because his father deserves better, but because he knows his father will always put his wealth and power first.

No matter who he must hurt to do so.

He was more distracted than I’d ever seen him. He changed his tie three times, he poured a drink and never once touched it, he lit a cigarette from the packet he kept in the top drawer of his writing desk in case one of his guests ever wanted a drag, before remembering that he himself didn’t even smoke. When he turned away from me and started pacing the floor of his penthouse apartment—right when I was about to lay a kiss on him—I’d had just about enough.

“Jesus, Harry. What in the Sam Hill is wrongwith you today?”

“Nothing.” His tone was snappy. Defensive. Not the Harry I knew and loved. “Everything’s fine. What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that your shoes are on the wrong foot. You’re walking like a duck. It’s kinda cute, I’ll grant you that, but somewhat concerning at the same time, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’m telling you I’m fine.”

“And I’m telling you that something’s up. You’re hiding things from me again, ain’t you.”

“So what if I am? I’ve told you before, Buck, there are some things you don’t need to know about… for your own good.”

“My own good? Whoever said there was anything ‘good’ about me?” I grabbed his hand, and when he tried to pull away, I tightened my grip and yanked him closer, stealing the chance to plant that kiss on him while I could.

He caved and kissed me back before pulling out and looking deep into my eyes. “There’s plenty good about you, Buck. You just enjoy playing the bad boy too much to admit it.”

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