Til Debt Do Us Part (Married At Midnight #4)

Chapter 6

Six

Talia

L ooking around the gala at the Morgan estate, I am immediately certain that I don’t fit in. My clothes are too shabby. My hair is quite tousled. My smile hasn’t been straightened by orthodontics, as I am sure that the smiles of everyone here in their gowns and tuxedos certainly have. I feel downright dowdy, up until the point when the security guard calls out to me.

I turn, clutching my glass of red wine, my heartbeat soaring. All my attention is on the guard behind me, and as I begin to run, I barely look at the people before me. They are surely too elegant and refined to even deal with an intruder like me.

My run is short lived, because I soon crash into a wall of a man. I peer up at him as I spill red wine across his tuxedo shirt, my eyes widening as I take him in. He is very tall, with dark, slicked back hair and insanely carved cheekbones. An aristocratic nose and a set of lips seemingly made for the sneering expression they currently wear which complete his visage.

I crumple into him and look up into his piercing blue-green eyes. He is none other than Burn, whom I never thought to see again. Especially not here, when I am sneaking into a party. I brush my messy hair out of my face and look up at him with wide eyes.

"Oh. It’s you." The comment slips from my mouth before I have a chance to think about it.

Burn’s eyes narrow on my face, and I have the strangest feeling that I am suddenly in a much more dangerous situation than just running from the security guards. He looks down at the wine dripping down his shirt and scowls at me.

"So it is," he says. His expression is as dark as a thunderclap.

I raise my hands to his chest, uncertain. The visions are dancing before my eyes, memories of the last time I saw him. Quiet sighs, the feel of his burning hot lips, the exquisite way he tastes, the way he touched me, the sounds of our exultation.

A flush creeps across my cheeks. Because we both know each other rather intimately, I expect that he will look at me with surprise or possibly even happiness. But instead, he is looking at me with this cold, calculating glare.

Does he not remember that we spent a night together?

I start to open my mouth to ask him that question, but the security guard catches up with us, drawing a sleek black weapon out of his coat pocket.

Burn looks up at the security guard, and I see a flash of fury on his face. He pushes me roughly and moves to stand in front of me. And he raises an arm, pointing a finger at the security guard.

"Fuck off," he commands. "She’s with me."

My heart warms just a tiny bit. My stomach is still flip-flopping, as I feel unsettled. But Burn doesn’t ask me anything about what I am feeling at this moment.

Instead, he grabs the top of my arms just below the shoulders and marches me toward the front of the house and away from the sea of people at this party. I feel the weight of a thousand gazes on my small frame, but Burn is the one in charge right now. He’s made a decision, and I can only barely keep up with his long strides.

Burn continues our roughneck pace, pushing and pulling me in turns down the length of the back of the huge house.

We take a right turn into a less crowded garden; this one is a pretty ornamental affair, with pairs of people holding hands and whispering to each other as they wander through it. There is an elaborate set of sculpted hedges at the far end, and nearer to me is one of many broad, shallow pools with water features that gently ripple. There are roses everywhere, growing on trellises and in bushes. Burn pushes me forward and points toward the far edge of the garden.

I try to look at his face to get an idea of what he is feeling. I remember him being as open as a book and laughing a lot when we met before, but now he is closed off and his expression is set in a grimace.

I start to wonder, looking at his fancy tuxedo and the ease with which he wears it, who is this man? I only know him from our one meeting at the Raven’s Head Club. Now I am wondering what else I should know about him. I am starting to feel more than a little intimidated by his attitude toward me.

"Burn!" I begin. There is no plan for my words, exactly. But my words seem to cause him some kind of torment, because he curls his lips.

"Not here," he growls. He pushes me down a pebble lined path, as neatly manicured as everything I have seen tonight. When he clamps my arm and takes a sharp right into the hedge maze, I start to think that maybe he knows this garden a little too well.

I blame my panicky brain for the ideas it’s producing. Because it’s not as if Burn is one of the Morgan family or anything. Believe me, I would know if I had fucked one of the members of the ultra-elite. Yuck .

I shiver to myself and force my attention back to the present moment.

Burn surprises me by clamping his fingers around my arm and pulling me into the hedge maze. On the other side, there is a large pond with an explosion of multicolored tulips framing it. A gorgeous Grecian statue stands sentinel in the corner, flanked by two white marble benches. He calls me over to the statue, ignoring my struggle. Then he abruptly turns me loose, rounding on me with a snarl.

"Do you even know who I am?" He demands to know. His face is furious for some reason.

I swallow and step backward, feeling the brush of leaves from the hedge at my back. I look up, licking my lips. He has no right to look as attractive as he is, with the spots of vivid pink color in his cheeks and his haughty expression as he peers down at me. I draw my arms across my body, hugging myself and frown.

"I know your first name. Burn. I was under the impression that you didn’t think that knowing each other’s names was necessary. Actually, I think you said that it wasn’t very sexy when I asked you for your last name."

"Then why in the hell are you here, then?"

He prowls around me, first one way, then the other. I swallow and try to figure out just what is going on.

"I’m here to confront Remy Morgan. He owes my bookstore a lot of money. triste I came to talk to him and try to get him to cough up what he owes us. It’s not like he’ll even notice the cost. Have you seen this place?” I snort and stand back, motioning to the whole Morgan estate. “Talk about decadence."

His jaw tenses. "You came to talk to Remy Morgan? Really?"

I draw myself up, dropping my hands to the side, and lifting my chin. "Yes. I came to collect the debt that is owed. It may only be a few thousand dollars, but it’s a lot to me."

Burn looks at me speculatively, poking his cheek out with the tip of his tongue. "You don’t just talk to my grandfather like that. You have to have an appointment. You have to know people. He is a fucking billionaire, not a busybody philanthropist."

My eyes widen. "Wait, your grandfather? So… You’re…"

He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. "That’s right. I’m a Morgan. Now who the fuck are you?"

My cheeks stain with blood. "I… I’m Talia Chance. Don’t you remember? We met at the Raven’s Head Club not that long ago."

"Oh? When was it? What day?"

I scrunch my brow in confusion at his questions. Tilting my head, I find myself at a loss. "What do you mean? You were there just like I was."

I definitely remember him. His intensity, the grace with which he moved, and his astoundingly good looks. When I laid eyes on him tonight, I remembered his name. I’m not the crazy one , I try to remind myself.

Burn gives me a smirk, stopping dead in front of me. He looks me over, assessing me. I don’t think I come up as very highly valued, but I’m still trying to put Burn together with this whole lavish estate. The two don’t seem to intrinsically fit.

He makes the gesture, flicking his hand. "Fine. You got me. I was very drunk when we met. I was on a lot of mushrooms, too. So I don’t remember ever meeting you, although you are telling me that we know each other. I’m assuming that we fucked, though?"

I swallow, my eyes going wide. Hearing him say that is somehow dirtier than the vivid imagery that runs through my mind.

"Well… I had a lot to drink too."

Burn zooms in, lurching toward me, and grabs my arm hard. I struggle against him, trying to buck his touch. But it’s no use.

He snarls through his teeth. "You’re going to tell me right now if we fucked or not. So did we?"

He insists with a little shake of my arm, causing me to wonder whether or not I should just wait for a moment when his back is turned and then run. He gets his face close to mine, practically oozing anger at me that I don’t understand.

Why would he be angry at me?

"Yes!" I practically shout at him. "Now let me go, please! You’re scaring me."

With another snarl, he lets go of me. I start to move, perhaps indicating that I am about to flee. But he throws up his hands, holding them wide.

"Hold on. Don’t run away from me."

I don’t look at him. Instead I keep my eyes trained on the gap between the hedges, licking my lips.

"Talia," he says, his tone quieter. "That’s your name, right?"

The sound of my name on his lips is more appealing than I thought it could be. Pausing, I dart a glance at his face.

I toss my hair and jut my chin out. "Yeah?"

"I can listen to your complaints and pass them on to Remy himself. My grandfather doesn’t meet many strangers. But for me, he’ll listen." He pauses, his eyes narrowing. "But you would have to tell me exactly what happened the night we fucked. And I mean that I want details. I want to know where it happened, when it happened, and exactly what I said."

A sick feeling washes through me. There’s something wrong here, I can tell. Something is definitely not right. But I’ll be damned if I know what it is.

"So you’ll plead my case for me? You’ll tell your grandfather that he owes me for the books he already ordered and make him cut me a break on the mortgage?"

Burn seems as though he is barely listening. I feel like I’m a ghost somehow, here, in front of him. I reach out and grab his arm, giving him a tiny shake. "Burn?"

He pushes me off, stepping backward. He still looks angry, but when he speaks, his tone of voice is very blasé. "Listen, I know that you’re only talking to me because you need something from me. I get it, okay? What I need to know is that you will give me the details. Preferably right now."

My mouth pulls to the side. "There’s something off about you and your requests. I can’t figure out what is bothering me about it so much."

"Do we have a deal, though?"

I size him up, indecisive. "Maybe. You just need to know the details, I can probably tell you that, although I have to say that it’s very weird being asked for this kind of thing."

He sneers at me. Before he can say anything, I hold up a hand.

"I’ll do it for you if you can get me an audience with Remy Morgan."

Burn actually laughs in surprise. "No. No way. There is absolutely no way in hell that he will agree to meet you.”

I cross my arms and give him a tiny glare. "I thought that you had a good relationship with him."

"You inferred that incorrectly. Remy Morgan has a good relationship with his money. That’s about the end of that story right there."

My lips bunch up.

He waves a hand in the air, silencing me before I say a word. "When it comes down to making a decision, I have to ask, what’s in it for me? So if I tell Remy your tale of woe, what’s in it for me?"

Before he can get out another word, a woman screams a word across the gardens.

"Dare? Dare, where are you?"

He goes rigid at the sound of her voice. Whipping his body around, he looks toward the back of the house, where the voice came from.

"Shit. Just… Just give me a minute. I have to deal with this. Don’t move."

He doesn’t actually look back at me, though. I have the feeling that I am once again like a ghost to him, an idea more than a person. As Burn hurries out of the enclosure and ducks through the hedges, I already know what I have to do.

Leaving is the only reasonable solution. Especially since I doubt Burn intends to reveal anything to his grandfather. If I am not going to meet him, there is no way to know whether Burn will live up to his promise.

Ducking through the gap in the hedge, I flee toward the front of the house. I find my friend Olivia in her beat up blue Honda, parked along the driveway not very far from the large front turnabout. Glancing back at the mansion, I have the feeling that I am leaving behind centuries of criminality and angst. It has the semblance of a mobster’s mansion, for sure.

When Olivia finally looks up, I am already pulling open the door to her car. "Let’s go!"

She pales and starts the engine hurriedly, looking at me with wide eyes. "Well? Did you find Remy Morgan?"

I give a little laugh, shaking my head. "Definitely not. I have no idea what is going on with that family, but my best bet is to retreat and try some other tactic."

Olivia pulls out of the driveway, heading down the sloped driveway toward Harwicke. She glances at me, barely able to contain her curiosity. I wave her off though; I'm not ready to talk about it just yet. There is so much that I am still trying to come to terms with.

"Just take me back to the bookstore. Then I can tell you what happened."

"You got it." Olivia puts her foot on the gas.

I lower the visor on my side, looking at the receding house behind me. I glimpse a lone silhouette standing and waving an arm, trying to catch my attention. But I press my lips together and flip the advisor back up, not saying another word.