Underworld Lover (A Guardian Angel Romance #2) (7 page)

Her mother pulled open the front door, revealing the grand foyer, warmed by a pink and orange glow from hundreds of lit candles. “Mel!” Her mother pulled her forward and embraced her a little more lavishly than usual. Melanie was suddenly embarrassed being the center of attention.

“Where’s your car?” her mother asked as she looked out the front door.

“My truck? I’m getting the brakes fixed. I took a cab.”

“Dearie, we could have had Peter pick you up, or sent the car for you. You should have told me.” Georgia Worthington frowned at her daughter.

“Peter?” Oh, yes. Mr. Maserati. The eligible young bachelor she was being offered up to, like a virgin sacrifice. Swell. So now she would look like she expected him to take her home. She hadn’t thought about that possibility.

“Peter Adamson, and the pleasure is all mine.” A man’s voice caught her attention. She looked up to see a handsome male standing before her, with an oddly familiar face with dark eyes. He captured Melanie’s hand, then bent to kiss her fingertips. She thought she smelled blood and heard screaming. The chill of his breath on her hand made her want to step away immediately. But she couldn’t move.

This brought titters from the two other female onlookers, who appeared to have picked up on the old-fashioned and erotic implications. Melanie did not like this little dramatic part she was being forced to play.

She decided Peter’s eyes knew more than he let the others know. He searched her face with a possessive air. Melanie sensed he would be the type to play with her flesh before striking. He’d take his time with her, confident of a winning outcome. She did not like or trust him. Worse, she was horrified at the subtle feeling he liked to cause pain. She shuddered.

“Peter is new to Daddy’s firm. We thought he should come get to know the family,” her mother said. Melanie considered the unit the three Worthingtons made, but it didn’t feel like family. More like a partnership, a business arrangement.

Peter had not let go of her hand, and although she tried to extricate it from his large paw he hung on, leading her into the large living room, a satisfied smile occupying the whole of his face. He stopped near the bar and handed her a large goblet of red wine.

“I have poured you a Ravenswood merlot that has been breathing for a half hour.” After handing her the goblet and releasing her hand, he leaned into her, and said in a low voice, “See if you think she’s ready.”

Melanie felt a little dizzy at his low tone, which washed over her face like a cool breeze. Her ears buzzed slightly. Peter was a handsome man, tall and well muscled under his white shirt. His black slacks were cut slim, and there was no mistaking his desire to show off his long legs and tight rear.

The Ravenswood merlot was her favorite. He had obviously done his homework. She liked him even less than before.

“Thanks.” She tried to smile back at him. She searched his face, squinting her eyes and cocking her head to the side. Needing to show him she wasn’t afraid of his magnetism, she looked him square in the middle of his dark eyes and took a sip of the merlot. It was heavenly. As if knowing what she was thinking, he smiled.

“Good.”

His voice was so soft she almost couldn’t hear his response. It sounded more like a moan that emanated deep from within his chest. She could feel the vibration from his body all the way to her toes.

She pardoned herself away from him and made her way across the living room to Felix’s father and stepmother, who looked uncomfortable. She gave Mr. Barstow a hug that he didn’t return. He was a man in shock.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Oh, well, we have good days and bad days.” His smile was more of a wince.

The silence was awkward.

“Yes, I imagine,” she said.

“I just wish...” Felix’s father started to sob while his new wife pressed her enormous breasts against his side. It was a disgusting display of how little she truly cared for the aging man. Melanie’s heart broke. The veiled accusation in Mr. Barstow’s words hurt her. Her eyes filled with tears as she pitied the grieving man.

So sorry, Felix.

She found some courage at last. “You know, Mr. Barstow, you can be very proud of Felix. He was so wonderful to me over the years. Really helped me in times of great distress, of darkness. He was a great friend. I’ll always miss him.”

Mr. Barstow leaned in to Melanie, jaws locked, his hands made into fists. “Did you know about it? Know what he was planning to do?”

Melanie was stunned without words.

“You should have told me, at least,” he said through clenched teeth. His eyes reflected all the confusion the pain had caused him.

Melanie knew instantly he was right and wished she’d kept her mouth shut. All she’d done was add to a father’s pain.

Peter came to the rescue, shouldering between Mr. Barstow and Melanie. He gave her a lazy smile and half grin, as he regarded Mr. Barstow over his shoulder. “How could she have known? Most male suicides don’t want to be rescued. Most women want to be found.”

Melanie stared up into Peter’s face and was suddenly grateful for the intervention. As he turned his head back in her direction, she noticed how he seemed to do more than look. He absorbed her essence.

Peter’s hands were on her waist as he slowly moved her away from the couple, keeping her back and one side touching his body, length to length. Melanie noticed where they connected; her body was already anticipating the next touch. He did have a sense of control over her, a command, as if he knew what she would put up with and where the unacceptable line was drawn. She had to admit, she liked being protected in this little gathering, where the odds were stacked against her at least four to one.

Mr. Barstow retreated to a corner, his new wife in tow.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Peter said to the back of her head as she watched the couple distance themselves.

“What wasn’t?”

“Felix.”

“How do you know about him?” Melanie wasn’t sure his face revealed anything but passing interest, but it piqued her curiosity how a stranger knew.

“Your father.” He took a step closer than Melanie wanted, but she stayed her ground. Barely speaking, his chest rumbled as his words cast over her like an elixir. “He said you were in need of male companionship, that Felix had been your…confidante, and that he had killed himself.”

Melanie looked down at her feet. She didn’t want to show him her tears. She wasn’t sure if they were for Felix or for the fact that she felt very alone in her own family.

“Do you”—Peter took in a deep breath and exhaled over the top of her head—“need male companionship?” It was as if he was motioning with his forefinger, begging her to follow him down a dark garden path. The tingling on her skin from the touch of his breath was delightful and somewhat exciting, but she was confused as to whether or not it could be counted on to be long lasting.

“I’m not looking for anyone to fix me. Time heals.” She felt warmth coming from her face. The spontaneous heat traveled down her spine. Something physical was emanating from her face.

“Melanie.”

She heard a voice. She looked up to see Peter’s dark features illuminated. The light seemed to throw him a bit off guard. Did she have some power over him? Where was this light coming from? For an instant his smile disappeared, then was replaced with something more dangerous.
Anger?

She remembered the other dark man she had met the day before yesterday—Josh. It was his voice she heard calling her name. The touch of his skin on hers had been pleasant. In Josh’s presence, she’d felt none of the repulsion and loathing she felt for Peter. She had smelled the roses, felt the cool petals brush against her skin. She’d felt his fingers on her flesh, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, or stuck between the wet line of her lips. She felt those lips touch hers and pray in an erotic kiss.

If that other man were in front of her right now, she’d ask him to tuck her under his arm and take her home as fast as his car could go. Or perhaps drive her all the way to New York at a hundred miles an hour, without stopping. Away from this home, from this family. Away from this man now standing before her.

“You are the second person recently to tell me it wasn’t my fault.” Melanie watched as dullness came to Peter’s dangerous obsidian eyes.

As if struggling to regain his composure, he righted himself, then answered, “Obviously, my dear, you didn’t listen to the first person. Perhaps now you’ll listen to me. You shouldn’t trouble yourself with things beyond your knowledge.”

“And you have that knowledge?”

“Perhaps your friend was just giving you a line. Trying to get you to some place with him.” Peter gave a practiced smile.

“No. I’m talking about it not being my fault,” she said.

“But it isn’t.” He bowed to within an inch of her face. “And I’m offering you a better place.” Peter’s steady gaze chilled her again.

“As if death was a better place,” she said. The pit of her stomach felt packed with cold tar. She saw a dank and sad place, and knew Felix was looking back at her from there.

Chapter 9

Melanie thought her mother, Georgia Worthington, was good at anything she wanted to be. She knew her mother as the more talented of her two parents, the smarter one, and the one who should have been the success in the business world. She had the gift of looking soft while being as ruthless and cutthroat as any person could be.
After you’re left bleeding on the floor, dying, that’s when you realize you’ve underestimated her.

Her mother’s palatial house was in order except for her rogue daughter. Mel almost thought her mother would have been happier if Mel had actually succeeded in killing herself along with Felix. Now Mrs. Worthington had to live with the taint of a daughter who’d consorted with a disturbed boy. The story was going round that Melanie had tried to make him change his mind. But obviously Felix’s parents weren’t buying it.

Her mother was efficient and expert with social calculus. Melanie knew there were two reasons she’d been invited to dinner. One was to meet an eligible bachelor, completing some diabolical plan of her mother’s. The other was to clean up the mess Felix’s suicide had made. She wanted to be sure there was no resulting taint on her household. She needed to speak to Felix’s parents, and she couldn’t do it without Mel. They had to be brought “in line.” Had to get their stories straight.

The burning hatred Melanie carried for her mother was eating a hole in her stomach.

Although she had no appetite, Melanie obediently sat next to her mother’s right at the table, the place of honor. Perhaps it was the place a quick right hand could catch a gun or knife as it was brought out to do a dark deed. Across and one over from her sat the ever-confident Peter, next to her father. The placement afforded Mrs. Worthington additional moments to touch her daughter’s forearm and give her a smile carved out of granite with a jackhammer—her version of motherly love. The effect this false smile had on Melanie couldn’t have been greater had her mother clutched her with claws and drawn blood for all to see.

Melanie was sure Peter understood, for while he looked on her with lust, he had a thoroughly devoted expression on his face as he fluttered his eyes discretely towards Melanie’s mother, without looking at her directly. Mel found this to be curious.

Another male with mother issues.
It did take her mind off the boring non-events at dinner.

Even if she found Peter attractive in a strange sort of way, the fact that he could tolerate her mother was such a huge black mark in Melanie’s book, he wouldn’t ever be under consideration accepting a ride home from him. Even her fingers felt dirty where he had kissed them. No amount of rubbing them on the expensive linen napkin that matched the tablecloth would make her feel clean. The soil of his touch seemed to reach far deeper than just mere skin alone.

Rescue was out of the question. She wanted to escape.

Melanie wondered why her father didn’t seem to notice the way Peter looked at his wife. Every time Peter cast his attention her mother’s way, her mother would titter and blush.  

Mrs. Barstow had been placed on Peter’s other side, so Melanie had to sit next to Mr. Barstow.

Throughout the meal, her father conducted numerous private conversations with Peter. As the wine flowed and the evening’s candles melted down to half their size, everyone grew quite loose and chatty. Although Peter had not looked directly at her mother much during the whole dinner, Mrs. Worthington was so charged with sexual energy, Melanie could almost smell it. No doubt about who Georgia wished she could go home with.

Peter played along with her mother. He blushed when Mrs. Worthington slipped by him to pour wine or bring something to the table. She almost couldn’t keep her hands off him, yet he didn’t seem to find it embarrassing as Melanie did. Melanie’s father seemed not to notice.

If she were truly wicked, Melanie could flirt with Peter in front of her mother. Her evil twin could get drunk and hang all over him, throw herself at him in front of her father. After all, she’d already paid the price. Even though her hatred was long and deep, she was done abusing herself, done with allowing herself to be a victim of her mother’s schemes. And her father was clueless. Melanie decided she would just outlast them, since changing the family dynamics would be impossible. And it wasn’t really worth it, after all.

The Barstows left early, immediately following dinner. Mr. Barstow had become overwhelmed with sadness. Mel braced herself for the part of the evening when the gloves were going to come off.

But even with Melanie’s best intentions, circumstances changed the end of the evening. Her taxi didn’t arrive, although everyone waited nearly forty-five minutes for it. Melanie thought it was silly that everyone kept pretending the call her mother made to the taxi company had actually gone out. She had to concede defeat, as she was getting tired. She accepted Peter’s gracious offer to drive her home.

With Peter’s hands clutching the tops of her shoulders, almost causing pain, Melanie gave her mother a good night kiss and thanked her curtly. Her mother’s warm peck on Peter’s cheek was punctuated with a slight moan and sigh. They shared a knowing glance that sent her father into a frown. Melanie finally understood that her father was employed by her mother in a business of marriage and was responsible for providing all things pleasurable, as long as he could. And when he was no longer useful…well, there would be a grave somewhere no one would visit. Ever. Perhaps her mother was already looking for a younger man to satisfy certain appetites she no doubt still had.