Beautiful Nightmare (Dark Dream 2)

“Mmm,” he hummed in the way Caroline did, in the way Dad used to do sometimes too. As if they knew better than you, as if you were as transparent as wet silk. “You know, Lane was moved by doves too. Later in his life, he had a peculiar kind of fascination with them. It seems you have a penchant for them, too?”

His gaze cut to my wrist and I was annoyed to realized I’d been rubbing my thumb over my dove tattoo.

I tugged my robe back over the mark and crossed my arms. “I’m sorry, can I help you with something? The family left for some charity breakfast half an hour ago.”

“You can actually, I was looking for you.”

I blinked at his carefully blank expression. His stillness and implacability reminded me of Tiernan, predatory and deceptively dangerous. “What could you want with me?”

He laughed, a short sharp sound like he was making fun of himself. “To explain all that, I need time and, honestly, I’d rather discuss this outside of the Compound. You know, in this house, the walls have ears.”

Instinctively, I looked around the room, which made him laugh again, softer this time.

“Why don’t you get dressed and meet me in the foyer in ten minutes. I’d love to take you somewhere.”

“I don’t get in cars with strangers,” I quipped.

Another ghost of a smile. “It’s a good thing I’ve known you since you were born then, Bianca Laney Belcante. Get dressed, if you aren’t down in fifteen minutes, I’ll leave without you.”

He turned on his heel in a magnificently dramatic fashion, black overcoat billowing out behind him, and disappeared down the hall.

15

BIANCA

Beckett Fairchild drove a silver Aston Martin the exact same model as the one Tiernan had used to take us to Lane’s Memorial Gala at The Met. I was surprised he didn’t use a driver the way it seemed most residents of Bishop’s Landing did, and that he handled the car with finesse as he drove too quickly around the looping curves of the city on our way onto the interstate highway.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I tugged my cashmere skirt farther down my tight-clad thighs.

He glanced at me and I realized for the first time that he had beautiful, deeply green eyes. “I’m curious, you don’t seem to remember me.”

I frowned at his non-squitter, but decided I’d know soon enough. “You were at my mom’s funeral.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His jaw clenched, a muscle spasming there. “I knew Lane all my life. Our fathers were distant cousins who worked together closely over the years and when they had sons a few months apart, it seemed obvious to throw us together. We were so different, but I think growing up together wore down our sharp edges and we fit together well.”

I didn’t say anything because the air in the car was ballooning with pressure, pushing on my body like a trash compactor.

“We were brothers by choice,” he continued, almost to himself. “I would have and did do anything for him. Including keeping the secret of his mistress Aida Belcante and then, later, his beloved Bianca and Brando.”

“Does Caroline know?” I asked, unable to mask the terror in my voice.

“It’s good to hear you have the sense to fear her,” he said. “I couldn’t quite know if you were as utterly brave and stubborn as Lane could be or just silly and naïve in accepting an invitation to stay at the compound.”

“I’m going to be honest and say it was probably a combination of the two,” I admitted.

Another of those whisper-smiles. “It seems so obvious to me that you’re his daughter. I’ve wondered how Caroline could be so blind, but then again, love makes fools of us all and Caroline loved Lane very much.”

I winced slightly, rubbing my thumb over my tattoo in a gesture I’d taken up to comfort myself. Growing up, I’d believed in fairy tales, in princes on white steads, damsels in high towers and villains with nothing but evil intentions, but coming to Bishop’s Landing had taught me that no one was just hero or a villain. My prince charming was most women’s nightmares, my villain one of society’s most lauded matriarchs. And I might had started out a naïve damsel in distress, but that wasn’t how I was going to end up.

No one was going to save Brando and me, but myself.

“Do you know why she took me in?”

“I’ve got my own speculations, but Caroline is a complicated woman. I’ve known her since she was enamoured with Lane, long before he even noticed her yet, your guess is probably as good as mine.”

Beckett maneuvered the car in and out of traffic easily, well over the speed limit. It was obvious we were heading into Manhattan, and I was curious where we would end up.

“Is it true?” I asked, taking a chance in trusting him because at this point, it seemed like he had been keeping my secrets even longer than I had. “Did Lane leave Brando and I something in his will?”