Molly O'Keefe - The Scandal and Carter O'Neill

Thank God.

She tore open the bag and pulled the dress over her head, shimmying it down around her belly and hips. She stepped sideways into the full-length mirror and squealed with delight. A little tight around the belly, but she was pregnant, what could one expect?

But the rest of it, oh the rest of it…perfect. The big collar clasped around her neck, a floppy silk rose beneath her chin. Her arms were bare, so she slid on a few silver bangles. And then a few more.

Shoes. Shoes would be an issue. Her swollen feet begged for the low sandals with the ghetto-fabulous gemstones, but she remembered how tall Carter was, how he seemed to tower over her, and she reached into the way back for her black second, secondhand Chanel stilettos.

Yes, she thought, admiring herself in the mirror. Oh. Yes. She pliéd, dipped. Tried to arabesque, but the seams wouldn’t allow it. She felt beautiful in this dress.

Lush and womanly and sophisticated.

Like a woman who owned her life.

She could do this. She could go on this date and hold hands and smile at a man who didn’t like her at all. In this dress, she could do anything.

The walls of her apartment shuddered as someone pounded on her door. It could only be one person and she clapped.

“Eat your heart out, Carter O’Neill,” she whispered and mini jetéd, as best she could, to the door.

“I’LL TRY TO BE THERE, Savannah,” Carter said into his cell phone as he brushed the rain off his jacket.

“You’re lying, Carter,” his sister said. “I can tell. I can always tell. Honestly, why do you bother trying?”

Carter smiled, staring up at the ceiling. He liked it when his little sister called him on his bullshit; it made him feel closer to her, as though it was ten years ago and she still needed him to protect her.

He remembered her a year after their mom had left them on Margot’s doorstep. Savannah had come into his room in the middle of the night, her voice a whisper, her hand against his arm a hot little puddle.

“She’s not coming back, is she?” she’d asked, moonlight turning her eyes black. “Mom’s left us here.”

“I don’t know,” he’d whispered, though he’d known. Of course he’d known. But he hadn’t wanted to hurt her. He hadn’t wanted any more injury to befall this little girl.

“You’re lying,” she’d said. “You’re always lying to me.”

Suddenly, in this hallway, Carter felt a million miles from his sister. From his family. From the man he was. And it was his own fault. Every time he tried to protect them he ended up putting more than miles between them.

“Savvy,” he sighed, “I promise I will try to get there for Christmas.”

Even as the words came out of his mouth he knew it was impossible. With Vanessa back in the picture, there was no way he could go home, not with her trailing behind like a spiked tail.

“Hey,” he said, unable to believe he was going to ask this question when he’d sworn to himself that he was going to stay out of the gem drama. “You guys haven’t found the ruby, have you?”

“Tyler hunted all over the place last month when Dad was here. He says it’s nowhere to be found.”

“What does Margot say?” he asked.

“She says there’s no way it’s in The Manor. She’d know.”

“Well, she sure as hell didn’t know about the diamond, did she?”

“I guess not,” Savannah said. “She was as surprised as the rest of us when Tyler said he found it and Dad stole it from him.”

“Is Margot there?” he asked.

“She’s in West Palm Beach with her boyfriend.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, trying to scrub the mental picture of his grandmother with a boyfriend.

“Don’t be such a prude. They’re companions.”

“Has anything strange happened at The Manor lately?”

“Not more than usual.”

There, he thought, he’d satisfied the worry his mother had planted in his brain. He could go on with his life.

“How is Katie?” he asked. It was easier in a way to stay apart from The Manor, Bonne Terre and his family. When he didn’t see them for months at a time, he couldn’t picture them at the breakfast table, going to school, getting ready for bed, couldn’t think of his niece, Katie, growing up and him not seeing it.

He didn’t have to think about all the things he was missing.

“If you really cared, Carter, you’d come see her.”

It was a direct hit, and his body stung with shame that quickly fizzed and exploded to anger. His life wasn’t that simple. Had never been that simple. From the moment Savannah came into this world he’d been protecting her, watching over her, doing everything in his goddamned power to make sure that her life was that simple.

Carter turned and hammered on Zoe’s door, using the side of his fist.

“I’ll call you soon,” he said, and hammered again. What was taking Zoe so long? he wondered. She lived in like a one-room loft.

“Think about Christmas,” Savannah said, subdued, as if she knew she’d pushed too hard.

“I will,” he said, and heard the door behind him rattle, the chain lock being lifted. “Gotta run.”

He felt the door give and he turned, dropping his phone in his pocket. “Good God, Zoe, it took you—”

The world narrowed down to one color. One hot pink blast of color that seared his eyes, harpooned his brain. There was no other color like it. Ever. In his life.

“—long enough,” he finished lamely. The color belonged to a dress, a short one and he couldn’t believe it, but Zoe the pregnant elf had legs that hit the ceiling and met the floor in a pair of heels that made his heart pound in his crotch.

“Hi,” she said, and he jerked his eyes up to hers. They were smiling, the green depths aglow with a feminine confidence that zinged through his blood stream. She knew she looked good.

The desire was a huge surprise. An unwelcome one, like being cut off at the knees.

“Hello” he answered, trying to cool himself down, pull himself away from the magnetic allure of her.

Of that damn dress.

“Ah…” She blinked, her confidence crumpling slightly. “Give me one more second.” She swirled a finger around her face.

He nodded and she trotted off to a dark corner of her loft, leaving him in the dimly lit doorway. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. She had lamps everywhere, some covered by scarves, casting a rosy glow over the wood floors and high white walls.

She was a candle person, he just knew it.

“So,” she yelled, “did you come in the back?”

“Nope,” he answered, picking up a framed photograph of a young girl in a sequined dance costume, her smile revealing two missing front teeth.

Zoe, he could tell by the eyes. The exuberance with which the girl smiled, like her whole body was required to do it right.

“Were the photographers still there?” she asked, ducking her head out a doorway. She was using some kind of contraption on her eyelids, a cage or something.

“Yes,” he said.

“They were gone when I came home tonight,” she said.

“Because they were following me,” he said, having spent the day feeling like Britney Spears.

She grimaced. “That’s no fun.”

He nearly laughed at her understatement. Nothing about this was fun, except maybe looking at her legs.

“All right,” she said, stepping into the hallway. She grabbed a tiny pea-green bag off a small table and emerged from the shadows. “I’m ready for steak.”

She was lovely, more than lovely, really. She was like a rare creature. All eyes and legs and lips. Her black hair shone like an oil slick, and her skin glowed as if there were a candle burning inside her.

If this were a real date, he’d say something now. Kiss her hand and breathe a compliment across her skin. Truthfully, if this were a real date he’d back her into those shadows and up against a wall and he’d explore the secrets of those endless legs. Thinking about it, his fingers twitched. His pulse hitched.