Page 51 of Twisted Love

For a fleeting second, I swear I feel him respond—his body stiffens and there’s a flicker of heat, of recognition. My own heart leaps at the possibility. Then, just as quickly, he pulls back. His expression is cold and unreadable, and my hope deflates like a punctured balloon.

He steps away, but I notice the faint outline in his pants, evidence that some part of him still reacts to me physically. Even so the set of his jaw, the hard line of his mouth, says everything else I need to know.

“Behave yourself tonight,” he mutters, voice clipped. “You are now the lady of the manor, not some tramp from the trailer park. I’ll see you downstairs.”

He yanks the door open and strides out, leaving me standing there, the stones glittering at my throat, my lips tingling from a kiss that tasted more of heartbreak than promise and the words that crush my soul.

CHAPTER32

EARL

The country club is a display of charm and affluence—hardwood flooring glowing with decades of polish. Perfect for reflecting the golden glow of the old chandeliers imported from Europe, large gilded oil paintings of the founding fathers of America, and red velvet drapes to frame the tall windows.

The ballroom on the first floor is reserved for this New Year’s Eve gala, but when we arrive in the foyer it is already full of landed gentry. Camera flash and classical music floats through the air. I can’t recall the last time I’ve seen so many glittering gowns and slick tuxedos in one place.

We’ve never been to this place before—neither of us… and certainly not our parents. They never invited trailer trash to events like this. Yet here we are, sweeping in as though we own the place, and in a way, I do. I could buy this place if I wanted to. At the very least I have the power to intimidate anyone who once might have sneered at my background.

Raven clings to my arm as we ascend the curving broad flight of stairs leading to the main ballroom. Every gaze in the room seems to latch onto us as we arrive at the entrance. There’s a hum of curiosity, of whispered speculation. Some know my recent acquisitions in town, my business deals that have turned heads and tightened purses. The women eye Raven, taking in the expensive dress, the diamonds at her throat. I see equal measures of envy and curiosity. And I can’t help but relish how they all stop to stare like we, the people they taunted and mocked, are now the star attraction at their big night of celebration.

Raven’s fingers tremble slightly against the crisp fabric of my suit. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and feel that familiar tug in my chest—the ache that treads the line between lust and something deeper. She looks breathtaking. What a shame she is so shallow and deceitful. Still, there’s not a woman alive who can hold a candle to her beauty.

If she hadn’t approached me all those years ago, I’d never have dared. She was too beautiful and I was too aware of my own nothingness. Now I’m far from nothing. I’m the richest man in the room, and I can practically taste the admiration and caution swirling in the air around us.

People converge on us almost instantly. Polite smiles, extended hands, murmuring congratulations about my “business acumen” and how they “always knew” I’d make something of myself. Liars, the lot of them, but I let them prattle on. I bask in it, letting Raven stand quietly at my side. This is what tonight is about—recognition, respect, and the power to shut them up with a single glare if I choose.

I spot a small cluster of vaguely familiar faces not too far away—some of Charles’s old friends. Annabelle might be there too. They appear hesitant, as if wondering if they should greet me or shrink back. I almost laugh. Once upon a time, they’d have found any excuse to torment me. Now they don’t even dare come up and say hello.

Raven remains poised, smiling politely at the well-wishers, but I feel her hand tense unconsciously around my arm whenever people crowd too close. No matter what she keeps that gentle expression on her face. It’s almost disarming to see her handle this crowd so gracefully. As if she was born to it.

But then I remember, she would have been standing here anyway. She was going to marry Charles, after all. A flicker of anger sparks in my gut at the memory. Even penniless he will have an invite to this event. They don’t eat their own. Bloodlines are everything to this lot. He is one of them. They understand him and he understands them. I am the stranger here. The odd one out.

We move along, exchanging pleasantries that mean nothing until a familiar voice calls out. “Earl Jackson? Is that really you?”

I turn and find my high school teacher, Mr. Langford and his partner, who is also another teacher in the same school. They’re grinning, beaming as if they are really happy to see us.

“You look amazing, Raven!” Mr. Langford gushes, glancing at Raven. “I always knew the two of you would end up together! Didn’t I say it back in senior year, dear?” he turns to his wife. “The perfect couple.”

His wife nods enthusiastically, adding some remark about how we were “destined from the start.”

Perfect couple, huh? I glance at Raven. She’s smiling sweetly, responding to them with a genuine warmth I haven’t seen in a while. That soft, sincere curve of her lips reminds me of the old days, those days I’ve tried to bury in shallow graves. Once her smile lit up my world. Now it just stokes a simmering rage in me. To think she was ready to give it all for Charles.

My hand clenches at my side. The night isn’t even half over, and I’m already fighting the urge to snap at someone.

My arm slips away from Raven’s, the movement so abrupt, that she stumbles and blinks in confusion. I can sense the questions in her eyes; what’s wrong? Why are you pulling away? I pretend not to notice. I keep my gaze locked on the teacher who’s still talking, going on about how we were always “destined” for each other. It’s absurd how people rewrite history in their heads.

I let their inane conversation wash over me, nodding at the appropriate beats, and giving the bare minimum of polite responses. My mind is elsewhere, scanning the crowd until it lands on the familiar figure of Annabelle.

Years have passed and she’s filled out in all the right places, but I would have recognized her anywhere. Her gown hugs the curves that leave no doubt she’s in her prime. If I were any other man, I’d admire her outright. Instead, I feel nothing. The truth is every woman leaves me cold. When I first left town, I slept with a lot of women, but none of them ever made me feel anything for them except disgust when the sex was over. They bored me. They didn’t want to have gherkins on their pizzas. It was not their fault. They were not Raven. And I was looking for Raven.

I sense Raven stiffen beside me, probably noticing the direction of my stare. Our teacher is still droning on about the multi-million-dollar project I’ve been orchestrating. The old mall, once a graveyard of shuttered stores and shattered skylights, is undergoing a complete transformation under my direction—a modern commercial hub that’s got everyone buzzing.

I can practically feel Raven’s curiosity prick at the edge of my consciousness. She’s a sharp one and has already realized why I’ve been so preoccupied. I can see the inquisitiveness in her eyes; it’s always been this way with her. She couldn’t bear it if I even looked in the direction of another girl, especially if she was even passably attractive. There never was any reason for it. I had eyes for no one but her. Still, it used to make her eyes flare up and spit fire. I have to admit one truth. I’ve missed her raging jealousy. Oh, how I’ve missed her spitting and cursing and how sweet it was when I yanked her into my arms and stopped the crazy spitting and cursing with a crushing kiss.

Now, I’m counting on that jealousy. Let her burn, the way I burned for years thinking of her with Charles.

I spot Annabelle’s approach from the corner of my eye, poised and assured as she glides through the crowd with unhurried grace. She looks polished and refined—exactly as I remember. Our eyes meet across the crowded room and I see it instantly. Years ago I was too naïve to see it. Now I can spot it a mile away when a woman wants me. And she wants me. Makes sense that she’s always wanted me. It was why she used to roll her eyes in disgust when her brother and his friends tried to gang up on me.

Well, well.

---