Page 3 of Liars and Liaisons

“Leave me.”

It isn’t a request, and they don’t argue. Nathaniel peels his hand from me, jerking his chin in the direction of the door. My other brother hesitates, watching me with a contemplative look on his tired face, as if waiting for something within to break. He moves away from the instrument, then cards long fingers through his short brown hair, pausing at the dime-sized balding spot toward the back of his head, before he disappears past my shoulder.

My fist doesn’t uncurl until the door softly clicks shut, and even then, it takes considerable effort. Pain coasts along the outside curve of my hand, and I clench my jaw, noting that one of the keys has cracked completely in half.

Pathetic. So easily broken, just like its previous owner.

The unholy tune from before—from the flames—picks up again, thrashing against my mind. Taunting me.

I push away from the piano, striding slowly across the room to one of the many ceiling-to-floor windows the estate is outfitted with. Pulling aside one thick forest-green curtain, I peer out at the vast, manicured landscape—sixty-odd acres, surrounding a beautiful, fully stocked lake and interspersed with guest cottages; a barn, where the staff tends to a handful of dairy goats; and dozens of walking paths.

Outside the barn is a sunflower garden that must have been blessed by some sort of harvest god, as it continues to bloom despite its utter neglect. As a child, I’d spend my time there, hiding from my father’s cane and anger in the blossoms.

My brothers slip through a side door off the deluxe chef’s kitchen, chatting with their heads angled together, as if afraid to speak too loud in case the woods’ specters are listening. I can’t make out the conversation as they begin their trek down the circular drive, heading for a blacked-out SUV parked near the wrought iron gate separating the estate grounds from the gravel road leading into town.

The back door of the SUV swings open, and a slender figure hops out. Shiny obsidian-colored hair hangs loosely in matching French braids over pale moon-white shoulders, partially visible through the lace sleeves of a low-cut black blouse.

For some odd reason, I take my time raking my gaze over the soft curves of the woman’s form, noting the flare of her hips and the pert bottom, just hidden beneath what barely constitutes a skirt.

She leans up as my brothers reach her—asNathanielreaches her, sweeping her into his arms. Hers curl around his neck, and she presses onto her tiptoes, accepting the brutal kiss he lashes against her.

Something turns to stone inside my chest, though it’s difficult to ascertain exactly why as the three of them climb inside the vehicle. I watch as the woman pauses with one leg out, turning her head toward the estate.

She doesn’t move for several long moments, and though I’m sure it’s not possible, I wonder if she sees me.

I wonder if she senses the evil lurking in her midst. Here and in the vehicle she’s about to enter.

Slipping my hands into the pockets of my tailored black slacks, I let the curtain fall slightly, shrouding me from the overcast sky.

An emptiness pierces my chest, as if my organs were extracted and I was sewn up before getting replacements. I don’t really feel anything, which was the entire point of me coming here to stay. In the past, my residency at the James estate was sporadic, but now I intend to remain as long as the ghosts will have me. They take care of the feelings.

I don’t stop watching the three of them. Can’t. Her, specifically. When I look away, my eyes snap back, as if they’ve been turned into magnets and she’s some terrible force they can’t deny. Nathaniel’s hand finds her lower back, guiding her into the SUV.

Interesting.

I find myself enthralled by my brother’s attachment, given his known propensity for avoiding them. With one exception. Maybe my coming here will be of use if it means driving a wedge between Nathaniel and his little companion.

It is, after all, just what he deserves for killing mine.

1

A Night Beneath the Stars.

The muscles in my lips lift as I read the banner hanging in the hotel lobby. My mouth curls into a deep crescent shape as I crane my neck more, gazing at the diamond-shaped skylights in the ceiling. Twinkling bulbs droop in overlapping strands through the wooden rafters of the ballroom, glinting off crystal chandeliers and the textured maroon walls.

To think, I considered passing up the chance to attend the gala tonight on the off chance I’d run into my ex since his nephew is the entertainment.

Though off chance might be putting it lightly, considering how involved the James family is. I suppose when you’re pillars of the music industry, with dozens of labels and famous musicians from LA to New York City, the hands-on approach becomes a sort of necessity to keep others from taking advantage.

At least with the masquerade ball theme, I won’t be able to tell if Nate’s here or not.

Won’t be able to embarrass myself by asking him to take me back.

My cousin, Cora, leaves me at the entrance. She skitters away in her sleek rust-colored gown with her tall, icy-eyed boyfriend in tow. If not for her bright blue hair and the tattoos on her bare arms, I’d lose sight of her in the crowd immediately.

The silver filigree mask she has on is the last thing I see before she’s swallowed up by the collective of Aplana Island’s best—which, to me, doesn’t actually seem like that many people. Granted, the corrupt island’s population is lacking in permanency, but for a political fundraiser with a famous rock-star headliner, this hardly seems like a good turnout.

Not that I’ve mentioned that to Cora or her British boyfriend Alistair, the latter of whom is the politician in question. Though, after staying with them for the better part of the last year, I can’t help wondering why he’s indulging his advisors with the fundraiser at all when it’s painfully obvious he isn’t interested in another mayoral run.

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