Seventy
Judge’s [POV]
She turns to face me. I still don’t move, and she has to tilt her head way back, so she sets one hand against the dresser at her back to slip on her sandals, then look up at me. They add five inches, but she still has to crane her neck.
“I hope Clifton likes the dress. I’ll make sure he knows you chose it for him,” she taunts, and I don’t have to shift my gaze from hers to see how her fingers play over the exposed skin of her thigh.
I grit my teeth and force a smile.
She steps around me. “I’m keeping the necklace, by the way.”
“It’s a gift. Of course, you are. And thank you is appropriate.”
“Oh, I’m not sure I’d classify it as a gift. I think I more than earned it, don’t you?”
I close the space between us, twirling a lock of thick, soft hair around my finger, then tilt her chin up. “Thank me.”
She licks her lips and searches my face. “How would you like me to thank you, your honor? On my knees?” She reaches a hand to cup the crotch of my pants, and I grab her wrist, my breath hissing. “You’ll ruin my makeup.”
“You think a man like Clifton Phillips can handle you? You’d eat him alive.”
She grins, pleased. “Better that than him eating me, don’t you think? Although…” I feel tense. Feel the heat of possessive jealousy begin to burn inside me. I squeeze her wrist.
“Relax, Judge.” She giggles. “No one’s eating anyone tonight.” Pulling free, she turns and walks out of the bedroom, not bothering to close the door. I listen to her heels click as she steps down the stairs.
Clifton Philips arrives right on time, and Lois shows him into the living room, where I watch from my place by the fireplace, my arm resting against the stone mantel. Mercedes smiles her Society smile. That’s what I’m calling it from now on. It’s one she gives all of them. Not me, though. This one she doesn’t insult me with. And as Clifton shines in her light, I hold that thought.
This is for show. I get the real Mercedes.
But I find it hard nonetheless to greet him as he comes to shake my hand and thank me for the invitation.
Clifton Phillips is twenty-four years old. Younger than Mercedes. He’s the firstborn of three Phillips sons. He comes from a Founding Family, although their fortunes have declined over the last decade or so. They still have money, but it’s nothing to the De La Rosa or Montgomery fortunes. I wonder how much that has to do with the attention and compliments he pours over Mercedes. Her inheritance would bolster the Phillips’s. Give him a nice cushion.
I put that thought aside. Mercedes is smart. She has her agenda with Clifton, and of the two of them, I know he’s the one I should worry about. As I sip my scotch, I consider how good my invitation to Clifton will look. As Mercedes’s guardian, I have invited this man into my home to court her. I already mentioned it to my mother so I can be sure news will travel to Hildebrand and throughout The Society. It should at least dispel some of the rumors circulating about us.
The two of them share a private joke, and I catch the seductive way Mercedes has of looking at men. She casts that thick-lashed glance at me while setting her hand on Clifton’s knee. I know I am her target. I swallow a little more scotch, my hand a jealous fist around the crystal. “I believe dinner is ready,” I say, gesturing to the dining room.
“Your home is beautiful, Judge,” Clifton says as Mercedes shimmies her sweet round ass ahead of us. I catch Clifton’s too-eager gaze on it even as he speaks to me.
I wait to respond, and when he realizes I’ve caught him, he clears his throat, faces flushing with embarrassment. “Thank you, Clifton.” I set my hand on his shoulder a little too heavily. “She is lovely, isn’t she? Hard not to look. But she is a Society daughter. And I don’t want to see your eyes on her ass again, am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sir. Christ. What a fucking pussy.
“Coming?” Mercedes asks from the entrance to the dining room.
I pat Clifton’s back hard enough that he jerks forward.
Mercedes gives me a look as he passes her into the dining room.
I shrug a shoulder and take my place at the head of the table. I’ve set Mercedes to my right. Clifton is at the foot.
“You know what? I’ll move down here with you,” Mercedes tells Clifton, asking Lois to reset her place beside Clifton’s. Lois looks at me, and I reluctantly nod. Although I admit it was childish to set him there. Like putting him at the kid’s table.
The table seats a dozen, and I watch the two of them talk at the far end, only including me in bits and pieces of conversation. Clifton is uncomfortable with the attention Mercedes is bestowing upon him. Between leaning her breasts to practically rest on the table and her hand disappearing beneath it too, I’m sure, his knee and it had better only be his fucking knee, he keeps glancing my way, face flushing with a combination of too much wine and a healthy fear of me.
“So Clifton,” I say, putting my knife and fork down once I’m finished with the main course. I notice Mercedes hasn’t eaten much. Is she trying to impress him? Or did I misread her, and she’s fucking nervous around this idiot? She also hasn’t touched her wine.
“Yes, sir,” Clifton says.
“How is school going? You’re still on track to graduate this year?” Clifton is studying law, and from what I’ve learned, he’s nowhere near the top of his class, but he is very popular socially. I get it. He’s good-looking. And likes to party. I wonder if Mercedes is aware of how much.
“Yes, Judge. I’ll be joining the family firm upon graduation. Perhaps you’ll see me in your courtroom someday soon.”
Oh, joy. “Well, I’m sure your father is very proud of you.”
“He is. And now that I’m readying to enter the next phase of life.” He turns to Mercedes, and when his hand disappears beneath the table, it makes me clench. “Well, let’s just say I’m very glad to have run into Mercedes at the party.”
“You know, Judge, Clifton, and I were at a joint summer camp back when we were kids,” Mercedes says. “Remember that?” she asks Clifton, setting her elbow on the table and turning her head so her hair forms a curtain between us. It’s done to exclude me. I will remember it once he leaves.
He points at her, mouth going from an O to a wide grin as he remembers. “The canoe incident. That was you, wasn’t it? We all suspected.”
Mercedes sits back in her chair, opens her arms wide, and takes a small bow with a tilt of her head.
“That Mrs. Crotch deserved a good dunk.”
“Mrs. Crotch. I can’t even remember her real name. Can you?”This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.
They both laugh at the memory.
“Now the skinny-dipping night…” Clifton lowers his voice. “I have a feeling you organized that too.”
“It was so hot in those cabins,” Mercedes says, glancing at me. “I was just cooling off with a midnight swim, and my suit was still drying from earlier that day. How was I to know everyone would follow little ole me?”
Clifton is about to comment, but I stand and put my napkin over my plate.
“I hope you’ve enjoyed your evening,” I say to Clifton.
Clifton takes the hint and begins to rise, but Mercedes grabs his hand and holds it. “Sit, Clifton. We haven’t even had dessert. Besides, this is the most fun I’ve had in forever.”
“Well,” Clifton looks at me. “If Judge says”
“Pfft. The judge will be fine. He’s much older than us,” she says conspiratorially to him but loud enough for me to hear. “He needs to get his rest what with his important work. You go on to the bed, Judge. I’ll make sure Clifton is… entertained.”
When I take a step toward their end of the table, I’m not sure if I’m going to grab her by the hair and haul her to her feet or take him by the collar and kick him out, but I do neither as Clifton pulls his hand free.
“I’d better go anyway. I have an early day tomorrow.” Clifton stumbles over his words, nearly knocking his chair over to put distance between himself and Mercedes.
“That’s a good idea,” I say. Mercedes makes to rise, but I set a heavy hand on her shoulder to stop her. “I’ll walk you out.”
“I’ll come too,” Mercedes tries again to stand, and I squeeze, then lean down until my mouth is beside her ear.
“You’ll go upstairs and wait for me to come up. I’ll deal with you then.”