Her Rebellion (The Rite Trilogy 2)

15

Mercedes

Judge’s mood is a dark, palpable thing for the entirety of the ride home. More than once, I feel his gaze on the side of my face as I stare out the window. I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response, even when his palm settles on my thigh, sliding up just beneath the hem of my dress. The warmth of his touch brands his possession into my skin, and if I wasn’t so raw from his earlier rejection, I might find it amusing.

We pull into the drive, and he helps me from the car with all the practiced elegance of a refined, well-bred man. This is how the world sees Lawson Montgomery, but beneath it all, I can’t help thinking what a hypocrite he is. He wears his finery to cover up his depravity, the same as me. Beneath those suits is a man who takes pleasure in ruining me, all while his lips spew lies about giving me away to someone else. Lurking under that veneer he presents to the world is a beast. A beast whose eyes I’ve stared into while he’s threatened to harm me, all while the echo of his promise to protect me fades away.

I wonder if he ever tires of it, these dueling personalities. I know how exhausting it is to live this way, and I’m only twenty-five. He’s been doing this for thirty-one years, and he still hasn’t chosen a side.

“Thank you for tonight.” I pull my hand from his the moment I step out. “It’s always such a pleasure to see you in your natural habitat.”

“Mercedes.” He calls after me with a growl as I walk into the house, my heels echoing off the floor.

I ignore him, but I can feel his presence behind me. His eyes burn into my back as I traverse the stairs and enter the corridor leading to his bedroom. Deftly, I reach behind me and unzip my dress before I even reach his door, clutching the fabric to my naked breasts. As soon as I step inside, I let it fall from my body, kicking it off before I bend over and strip my thong off too.

Judge’s polished shoes come to a dead halt as he enters behind me, taking in the scene. I glance over my shoulder and offer him another fake smile. The same one I reserve for everyone else. Today, when Judge made his position clear, I decided it’s time to let go of my ridiculous notions. This game between us has very real stakes, and it’s been easy to forget in the thick of it. But the battle lines have been drawn, and in the end, I’m the one who will have to face the consequences.

When I leave this house and his care, Judge will go back to the life he knows. He will spend his days at work, serving his purpose for The Society, and his nights will be spent in the comfort of a warm body that isn’t mine.

In my time here, I’ve grasped at every justification for my jealousy and the unwarranted possession I feel toward him. He was my first, but I’m not his, and I certainly won’t be his last. He wants a life free from complications, and I can’t forget that, even in the face of his temporary control. This flame of passing desire will inevitably burn out for him, and we will part ways.

I know there’s no guarantee I’ll go unscathed. Truthfully, I know I won’t. I’ve already given him more of me than I’ve ever given anyone else. I’ve made the mistake of letting him in and letting my guard down. But if I’m to survive this, I have to separate the two. I have to learn how to give him my body without giving him my heart.

“We need to talk about your little performance at the party,” he says.

I toss my thong to the floor and leave my heels on, turning to face him. His eyes burn a slow path down my naked body, the vein in his neck pulsing with the betrayal of his need. I move toward him slowly, and he eyes me with suspicion as I unbutton his suit jacket and slide my palms inside over his chest.

“Haven’t you heard?” I tip my chin up to peer into his eyes. “I’m in want of a husband.”

He stiffens, but I don’t acknowledge it as I push his coat back over his broad shoulders and divest him of it entirely.

“I figure there really shouldn’t be any wasted opportunities,” I add, my fingers moving over the buttons of his vest, slipping them through the holes. “I’m not getting any younger, and the longer this ruse goes on, the more people will start to question it.”

“You mean the way they question it when you willingly tell them it’s official.” He arches a dark brow at me.

“That was just to goad Vivien.” I shrug. “She can’t stand the idea of it.”

“Yes, and she likes to gossip.” He studies me sharply as I help him from his vest and move onto his button-down shirt.

“Don’t worry.” I stare straight at his chest, proud of how empty my voice is as I give him my assurances. “It’s always the woman’s reputation that falls into question. Yours will go unscathed, as a Sovereign Son.”

“Mercedes.” His voice is quieted as he tries to still my hand, but I shove his away and keep working to undress him.

“In all honesty, though, I really don’t think it will matter too much. As you saw tonight, Clifton Phillips had no issue with my reputation as he took me for a spin around the dance floor. I think he could be husband material. He’s a little arrogant, but I suppose everyone has their faults.”

“Are we back to this again?” Judge sighs, but it quickly turns to frustration when I look up at him deadpan.

“I’m not joking,” I tell him. “I know the whole purpose of me coming here to stay with you was to reform me, but let’s not kid ourselves. I am who I am. They may have broken the mold with me when it came to creating a perfect Society wife, but it doesn’t negate the fact I still need to wed. I have a legacy to carry on. A duty to the De La Rosa name.”

Irritation pinches his features, and I almost wish I could believe it means something. But I’m not falling into that honey pot again.

“Let’s not make this complicated.” I toss his shirt aside and reach for the zipper of his trousers. “It’s time for me to grow the fuck up, right? And don’t get me wrong, I enjoy this. I really, really enjoy this. But at some point, preferably soon, I’ll find someone else to take over the responsibility of my care and free you from the burden you’ve shouldered for far too long already.”

He reaches for my wrist, squeezing it in his palm before I can yank down his briefs. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?” I stare at him, blank.

“This.” He gestures back at me. “It’s like you’ve been reprogrammed. You’re acting as dead inside as your friends tonight.”

“It’s the bane of being a Society princess.” I lift my shoulder daintily, but he doesn’t seem amused.

We stare at each other in tense silence, unspoken truths blooming in the space between us. I could pretend to guess what his might be, but I won’t. If he wanted to say them, he would.

“I don’t like you like this,” he says finally, his tone too acidic to be mistaken for anything else.

“I’m sorry. Was that too much honesty for you?”

When he doesn’t reply, I slide my free hand down between my thighs, toying with myself while he watches.

“I didn’t intend for this to turn into a therapy session. In fact, that’s the last thing I want. So are you going to participate, or are you going to watch? Either way, I’m getting off tonight.”