Behind Your Back (23 page)

“Yes, sir. She’s a very special woman.” Saige beams up at me.

“Leave him alone, Daddy. He’s a good guy.” We all take our drinks and sit, me on the couch with Saige and her parents on the other facing us. I feel the weight of both their stares and in this environment, it’s intimidating.

“How is school going, Saige?” Bridgette says, uttering the word “school” like it’s dirty, or tastes bad in her mouth.

“It’s going really well, actually. I had an intense week, but now it’s going to calm down. And one of my professors thinks he can get me an internship at a gallery.” Saige’s hand creeps toward me and I take it in mine. She gives me a little squeeze.

Her mother looks at her as if she’s just announced she’s dropping out of school and has decided to dance naked for cash. Such strange people with strange values. If I didn’t hate them already, I’d be well on my way.

“Work for free?” Bridgette says. Her father is just watching us. Me and Saige, and especially me. Nothing escapes this man’s notice and while his wife is focused on their daughter’s life, he’s got his eye on me.

“Yes, that’s what an internship is, Mom,” Saige says. “But I don’t know if I’m going to have time to do it.” That seems to mollify her mother a little.

“How’s work for you, Quinn?” Beaumont asks.

“It’s going very well, thanks for asking. It’s not easy managing money that isn’t mine. If I make a mistake, I’m in deep trouble.” I add the last part with a smile and a little laugh.

“That is a lot of responsibility,” he says, sipping his drink. I sip mine and our eyes lock.

“It is, but I take my job very seriously. I’m more careful with my clients’ money than I am with my own.” He nods in my direction.

“Good. That’s good.” The topic shifts back to Saige and the heat is off me for the time being. Martha comes and announces dinner and it’s a voyage to the other side of the house where the formal dining room is. I can’t believe they don’t see the ridiculousness of four people sitting at a table made for twenty.

The food is “rich people food” as Saige said. Small bites on large plates. It’s all delicious of course, but I’m sure we’re both going to have to eat again when we get back to the apartment.

“Now what about your family, Quinn?” Bridgette asks. Shit. Saige grips my hand under the table.

“Well, I don’t really talk about them. It’s kind of a sore topic.” There’s not a better way I can put it than that.

“Well then we won’t ask you about it,” Beaumont says, coming in and putting an end to the conversation. His wife shoots him a look, but he pretends not to see it.

“Thank you. It’s just not something I like to talk about.” Saige squeezes my hand again.

We make it through the rest of the dinner and into dessert (assorted truffles) without Saige’s mother criticizing her.

“Dear, I wish you’d worn that cute cream dress I bought you last week. It would look just darling on you.” I nearly choke on my truffle and have to take a few deep breaths before I swallow. The way she talks is so pretentious and just… I can’t stand it. I want to get out of here as fast as I can, but that’s not really an option. I need Saige to give me a tour of the house and that’s only going to happen after we’ve gotten through this insufferable dinner.

We make it to coffee and her father is the one who suggests Saige take me on a tour.

“You don’t have to,” she says in my ear.

“No, show me. I want to see your room,” I say as I help her up from the table.

“You’re not fucking me in this house. So get that idea out of your head right now.” That hadn’t really occurred to me before she said it, but now it’s given my cock ideas and we need to get away from her parents before they see those ideas in my pants.

“Thank you for the meal, it was lovely,” I say and Bridgette says she’ll pas the compliments along to the chef. Surprisingly, I haven’t been interrogated or questioned as much as I thought I would be. Maybe because it’s my first dinner here and they want to lull me into a false sense of security. That has to be it. Well, next time I come here I’ll be placing bugs everywhere to do surveillance. I smile to myself thinking about it. Thinking about taking them down. Demolishing this cushy life they’ve built for themselves. And then I think of Saige.

I know she has a trust fund that pays for everything and I have no intentions to touch that. She is not her parents. She’ll be left alone. I at least owe her that. And I don’t see her ever turning into them, either. Living in a house like this, doing whatever she can to get more money to fill up the empty places in her soul that can’t be filled.

Saige isn’t empty. She doesn’t need that validation. She’ll be absolutely fine.

“How are you holding up?” she asks me when we’re out of earshot of her parents.

“Fine. They’re not quite as bad as you made them out to be,” I say with a grin.

“Yeah, you think that now. Okay, so I guess I should give you the grand tour.” We walk through the downstairs first, including the living room we had drinks in, and a study that looks as if it’s unused. It’s filled to the brim with leather-bound books.

“I’m pretty sure no one has ever read these. They’re just for show,” Saige says, brushing her hand across one row of spines. “I mean, I’ve read a few, but these are all books people say they read, but never actually do.” I know what she means.

As she shows me the house, I’m taking note of windows, views and any surveillance already in place. So far I’m not seeing any, but I make note of the security system on the wall beside the front door. Cash could crack it in his sleep. So that’s one positive.

“And that’s my dad’s office,” Saige says, waving her hand at a door along one of the hallways on the first floor. I don’t ask to go in, but I don’t need to. Now I know where it’s located in the house so I can find it next time. And wouldn’t you know, it’s right next to a downstairs powder room. Thank you, Beaumont, for making my job disgustingly easy.

We ascend the stairs and Saige shows me more rooms no one uses. Most she doesn’t even bother to take me into.

“And this is my room,” she says, opening the last door on at the end of a hallway.

I nearly burst out laughing as we walk in.

“Let me guess, your mother decorated it,” I say.

“You got that right.” The room matches the rest of the house, but it’s girly and frilly and so un-Saige it’s obvious her mother has no idea who she is. Or she is determined that if she decorates her room a certain way, Saige will morph into the daughter she wants.

“I was never allowed to change it,” she says, climbing onto the fluffy bed with a white canopy over it. This is a little girl’s princess room. Not a room for a grown woman. No one over the age of six should live in this room.

She flops back on the mound of pillows and pats the spot next to her. The bed is so large that if we wanted to add another person, they would fit no problem.

Saige and I lay side-by-side, staring up at the white canopy.

“They want me to move back here. Quit school and be their dutiful daughter.” I can imagine.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I know what I want. I’m already doing it. I spent a few years where I couldn’t make up my mind, but it was because of them. Because I felt so strangled when I was growing up. When I got my first taste of freedom I went nuts and wanted to do everything. I like to think I’ve settled down a little since then.” She turns her head to the side and I do as well. Our noses are nearly touching.

“It’s too bad they can’t see how amazing you are,” I say.

“Well, as long as someone thinks I’m amazing, that’s all that matters.” She smiles and presses her face forward. I think she only means to give me a peck of gratitude, but our mouths have other ideas.

Once I get a taste of her, I need more. She has to grab my chin and force my face away.

“No. We can’t. That’s not what I brought you up here for.” She rolls off the bed and then crouches down. I turn onto my stomach and scoot so I can see what she’s doing.

“I might not be able to decorate my room how I wanted, but that didn’t stop me from being a little rebellious.” She takes a box out from under her bed and drops it on the white frilly comforter. It’s simple and black, like a footlocker, only smaller. She holds up a finger for me to wait and then goes into her closet and emerges with a key.

“I knew the maids would find this, but they could never find the key, so my mom could never snoop. I hid things under the floorboards in our last house, but that didn’t work here.” The flooring is laminate and covered in plush rugs.

She fiddles with the key and then pops the top. The box is filled with pictures and jewelry and even a few clothes. I pick one photograph off the top and look at it. It’s Saige when she was a teenager and there’s a hoop through her septum, with little balls on the ends of it. It’s… sexy. Very, very sexy on her.

“Oh yeah,” she says, taking the picture from me. “I was sixteen when I did that. I wanted to get my nose done, but there was no way to hide it really. That one I could just flip up. Never got caught either.” She pulls out a little box and shows me the jewelry.

“I’d almost forgotten about it. I wonder if I still have the hole.” She unscrews one of the little balls and proceeds to try to thread the thing through her nose. She winces a few times, but gets it through.

Fuck.

“You like?” she says, smiling at me.

“Like is an understatement. Why don’t you wear it anymore?” She shrugs and takes it out, unscrewing the other ball back on. She holds it out in her palm.

“Put it in your pocket. Maybe I’ll start wearing it again.” And doesn’t that just turn me on even more than I already am. If she’s not careful, I’m going to have to fuck her here, even if her parents are downstairs.

She pulls out some of the other things, talking about rebellions both big and small.

“It was mostly stupid stuff. Typical. I never did anything really bad. And I was very good at not getting caught,” she says with a smirk.

“I have no doubt you were.” I’d tell her about my own youthful indiscretions, but I have to be Quinn. Not Sylas.

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know that even though they’re my parents, I’m nothing like them. I don’t want the same things they want.” It’s like she read my mind from my earlier thoughts.

I reach out and stroke her cheek.

“I know. You’re everything they’re not.” She can’t know how true this is.

“Why thank you,” she says, leaning her face into my hand. We stay like that for a moment and then she seems to shake herself.

“Okay, we can’t stay up here for too long or Mom will send Martha to check something and she won’t knock before she barges in. She’s Mom’s eyes and ears.” I have no doubt about that.

She puts the things back in the box, except for the ring that’s now safely in pocket and locks it before putting the key back in her secret hiding place in her closet. I wish there were some way to come back here and steal the box so I could have all the time I want to with it. I want to crawl inside her life. I can’t deny it anymore. I want her body, but I want everything else too. I want her past. Even if I’m going to leave. It doesn’t stop me from wanting.

She moves toward the door, but I don’t get up from the bed. I just want to stay here for a few more minutes.

“You coming?” she asks, hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah,” I say, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and standing.

W
hen we make our way back downstairs we find Bridgette and Beaumont arguing softly. They cut it out the second they see us coming down the stairs and put on fake smiles.

“Well, I think we’re going to get going,” Saige says. “Thanks for dinner, Mom.” She leans forward and gives her mother a kiss on one cheek and then the other.

“Thank you, Mrs. Beaumont, it was lovely,” I say.

“You’re very welcome, it was wonderful to see you again.” Her tone leaves a little bit to be desired in the “wonderful” department. Saige is saying goodbye to her father with a hug. It’s clear the two are much closer than Saige and her mother. I shake Beaumont’s hand and he squeezes just a little too hard. I let him do it and hide my wince.

Finally, I’m out the door with Saige and glad for it.

“You survived,” she says, putting her arm around my waist.