Don't Hurt Me Again

"One order of escargot to go, please. Heavy on the garlic butter," I said, leaning against the polished mahogany counter of Le Bistro.

The hostess smiled, though her eyes held a flicker of pity. "Of course, Miss Miller. For your brother?"

"It was his favorite," I replied, my voice tighter than I intended. "Seven years today."

"I remember. We’ll have it ready in ten minutes."

I stepped back, the scent of expensive wine and roasted herbs normally comforting, but today it felt like lead in my stomach. Jackson should have been here. We should have been arguing over who got the last piece of bread to soak up the sauce. Instead, I was picking up a ghost’s dinner.

I wandered toward the back of the restaurant, seeking the restroom to splash some cold water on my face. As I passed the private VIP suites, a familiar laugh cut through the muffled jazz music.

It was Gage.

I stopped. My heart did a strange, erratic dance. He told me he was stuck in board meetings all day. He said he couldn't make it to the cemetery with me because the Brown family’s latest merger was "on the knife’s edge."

"To freedom," Gage’s voice rang out, followed by the clink of crystal.

"Freedom?" a man asked. I recognized the voice—it was Julian, one of Gage’s oldest friends. "You’re getting married in three months, Gage. That’s the opposite of freedom."

"Am I?" Gage replied. His tone was breezy, stripped of the warmth he usually reserved for me. "Do you actually think I’m going to put a gold band on the finger of a mistress’s daughter in front of a priest?"

I froze. The hallway seemed to shrink, the air turning thin and icy.

"Wait," Julian chuckled. "The engagement is still on the books. Your parents would kill you. She’s the 'Sister of the Savior,' remember? The girl who lost everything for the great Gage Brown."

"A debt," Gage snapped, his voice sharpening. "That’s all this is. A seven-year debt that I’ve paid in full by humoring her. Mia is a bore. She’s used her brother’s death to morally kidnap me since we were twenty. It’s exhausting."

I reached out, my fingers grazing the wallpaper to keep from collapsing. My legs felt like they were made of water.

"So, what happens when you marry the daughter of the Mayor next year?" Julian asked. "What happens to poor, sweet Mia?"

"The same thing that happens to all women of her... background," Gage said. I could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "I’ll buy her that villa in the suburbs she’s always looking at. I’ll keep her there. She can be my little secret on the side. She’s already used to waiting for me. She’ll stay exactly where I put her."

"You’re a cold bastard, Gage," Julian laughed.

"I’m a realist. A mistress’s daughter should be happy to stay a mistress. It’s in her blood, isn't it?"

My vision blurred. A sharp, stinging heat rushed