Page 50 of Worth Risking It

He slid into the pool and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pressing my face to the crook of his neck. His in my wet hair, he held me tightly. “Then I have everything I need to live.”

That wasn’t entirely true, or else there would be no problems letting go of his mistresses. However, part of me no longer wanted that, for as long as he was distracted, I could have Wyatt.

And so, I set the course of my life, resigning myself to a wandering husband so I could keep my own secret lover on the side. I was facing a future of two separate lives; one I was going to live happily ever after as Milo’s wife, the other, as Wyatt’s girlfriend.

Somehow, I needed to make this work.

Chapter 20

Wyatt Shaw

Strolling around the wine cellar, running my fingers along the bottles, I paused at a 1961 Haut-Brion. Carefully tugging on the neck to pull it out the slot, I cupped the dark green bottle in a palm, eyeing the discolored label with the drawing of a French chateau. Taking a quick inhale through my nose, I coughed, lifted my chin in the air, and strutted out the room, slamming the door behind me.

I made my way to the stairwell that curved to make a u-turn, or sorts, to the main level. Tucking the wine under my jacket, I crossed the wide hallway at the front of the house. The chatter in the living room grew louder, filling my ears and my head with noise. When I rounded the corner, my steps faltered for a moment, seeing so many people gathered to remember my brother.

Anger bubbling in my gut, I turned around, stomped back toward the stairs, and passed them, kicking open the door to take the butler’s hall to the kitchen. There were still people to pass, but not nearly as many in the living room.

My chin on my chest, I avoided eye contact with everyone as I wove down the length of the house, ignoring attempts to talk to me. Opening the door in the large, rounded breakfast nook, I stepped out into the cold, brisk air, a shudder rolling down my spine. The tiny gravel crunched under my heavy steps, picking up speed when I heard the door reopen and someone calling out my name.

Grumbling under my breath, I ducked into the row of trees and followed the path along the tennis court and past the pool. I slowed down, withdrawing the bottle to rip off the label, tossing the pieces to the ground as I continued to the back of the property. Taking the moss covered, stone stairwell that circled down to the beach below, I dug at the cork with my nail, cursing that I’d forgotten an opener.

At the bottom, I pushed open the white, wooden gate that had dead vines wrapped around the spokes. A few more steps, and the trees broke away for an unobstructed view of Lake Michigan. Slowly approaching the shore, I dropped to the ground with a huff, my elbows on my knees. My sight skimmed over the horizon of blue water meeting a murky, gray sky.

It was fitting the day was so goddamn dismal.

Still, in a few hours, when the sun went down, the sky would be alit with fireworks, people around the lake celebrating the end of 2015, while we all brought in a brand new year without my brother.

Tapping the bottle to my shin, my throat tightened, my chest constricting with my emotions. I was so ready for this fucking day to end.

Footsteps crunched behind me, and I groaned, throwing my head back and closing my eyes. Someone followed me. Why wouldn’t people just leave me the hell alone? Not everyone wanted to hug or reminisce at funerals. Some people wanted to brood with rage and loathing.

Then again, only a handful of people in that huge, modern styled, slate house knew Meyers had been murdered.

I pressed the heel of my palm to my forehead, my fingers tangling in my hair. Me, Jonas, Amanda, Jack, and whomever he hired to kill Meyers were the only people who knew. Of course, Jack and his lovely wife had no idea me and Jonas were aware of the truth.

“You might need this.”

Tilting my head, I peeked out the corner of my eye at a bottle opener hovering beside me. Squinting against the sun peeking through the clouds, I saw my brother standing beside me, staring at the water.

“Thanks,” I grumbled, taking it. Setting the bottle on the gravelly sand, I punched the screw in the cork and twisted it downward.

“That’s a thousand dollar bottle of wine. You think that’s wise?”

Pushing the handles down to force the cork up, I yanked, sighing at the loud pop. “You think I care right now? Jackie boy doesn’t even know what he has in that cellar. He buys liquor blindly and sends his butler to fetch when he’s thirsty.”

I chugged a good amount of the woody, yet fruity red liquid, the booze burning my empty stomach. Clucking my teeth, I took a deep breath and grunted, shaking my head.

“That dumbass doesn’t have a fucking clue what’s good and not good in that cellar.” Tilting my head again, I waved my arm up the hill behind me. “You know he has a bottle of Sutter Home White Zinfandel next to Chateau le Pin Pomerol?”

He snickered, tugged on the thighs of his slacks, and dropped next to me, reaching for the bottle. “From six bucks to four grand. Interesting.”

Taking a gulp, he sighed, handing it back to me. I downed some more and then rubbed the back of my wrist to my nose. It was freezing, the wind biting at my face. A little bit more wine and I would start to warm up.

“Have you seen Amanda?”

Snorting, I brought the bottle to my mouth. “I guess we don’t need to wonder if that’s our nephew she’s carrying.”

“Nope,” he muttered, draping his elbows on his knees to clasp his wrist. His head bowed low, a heavy sigh pushing through his nostrils. “He’s gonna get rid of that baby, you know that, right?”