Page 90 of Backlash

I see a silver-haired head appear below, its owner’s back to us. Adair unleashes her loudest moan yet, and I clamp my palm over her mouth in desperation. I can hardly think, and the distant, still-rational part of my brain screams that it’s a bad idea.

I don’t care.

I kick away the tile propping the door before the figure on the stairs rounds to where he will see us, and slide against the far side of it. We’re all in now.

Adair’s orgasm echoes through the grounds, mixed with the finishing strains of another carol. Mine follows just after, pulling every last bit of heat out of my body and syncing with the shivers I’ve managed to ignore so far.

A sharp rap on the door jolts us back to reality. I set Adair back on her feet and, keeping my weight against the door, furiously clasp my pants.

Another rap follows, this time accompanied with, “Adair?”

Adair’s nervous look is replaced with relief.

“Felix,” she whispers.

Thank god. If it had been her father…

We step back from the door when we hear the old butler try the knob. It opens slowly, and—although it’s stupid to even try—we pretend as if we were simply taking in the performance from above.

He scarcely bothers looking at me, although he definitely sees me. Instead, he addresses Adair. “The performance will conclude soon. You’ll be missed if you don’t return now.”

“Thank you, Felix,” Adair says, the crimson of her cheeks betraying the evenness of her tone.

Had she arranged it with him? Or is he simply so good at his job he always knows where his charges are? It’s impossible to tell by judging his expression. I suppose a good poker face is something of a job requirement for butlers.

Adair takes me by the hand and leads me down the stairs. We arrive back in the atrium half-frozen, and thankfully all eyes are on the final flourish of the choir’s performance of O Holy Night.

Adair spends the next twenty or so minutes making small talk with people, accepting their condolences for her loss, or hearing how proud of the job Adair has done on the party would make her mother. Her spirit, completely revived by our tryst on the roof, begins to dim again.

Before long, I’m sure I feel every bit as bad as she does.

“Lucky, what do you think of coming with me to New York for Christmas?” I ask suddenly. I’ve been thinking of asking her ever since the night of my last final, but I didn’t want to pressure her to do something I didn’t think she would enjoy very much. But seeing her father and brother and how they treat her—I’m sure it’s the right thing. I know how hard losing a parent is, what it feels like on Christmas morning, how it reminds you of what you can no longer have.

“You’re serious?” she says, her eyes lighting up with what I assume are visions of the tree at Rockefeller Center, or visits to F.A.O. Schwartz.

“Yeah. Why not? It sounds like you need to get out of here, and I can show you where I grew up, all my favorite stuff in the city.” A pinch of worry hits me when I consider how cheap my kind of fun is. I imagine she’s never been in a room as small as my one at Francie’s. But it’s too late now, anyway. The offer is made.

“Okay,” she says, trying on the idea a little, which leads to an adorable, nose-crinkling grin. “Let’s do it. My dad hates New York. We went once, but I was too little to remember.”

“It won’t be fancy. Our place is really small, and—”

“It will be perfect.” She quiets me by placing a finger on my lips. “I just know it.”

22

Adair

Present Day

“This is a terrible idea.” I’d been trying to talk Poppy out of going to the Barrelhouse all day. As usual, I’m losing.

“We’re going to support Kai,” she reminds me, turning the wheel of her Mercedes S-Class hard over for the hairpin turn leading out of the Eaton’s parking garage. “Plus, why would Sterling even be there?”

“Oh, he will be,” I mutter.

The night he admitted what he did, how he made his fortune, the sins he committed, I wondered if I could forgive him. I knew something shady had gone down ever since he showed up with a thick wallet, dropping thousands at charity galas and buying a stake in my family’s company. Maybe I didn’t want to think too much about it. It’s not like I don’t have my own secrets. I’ve made mistakes. But I can’t imagine trying to ruin someone’s life.

We didn’t speak that night after I asked him to take me home. We simply gathered our half-eaten picnic and drove in silence back to Nashville. I didn’t say a word when he dropped me at the Eaton. And since?