JoAnn Ross - Legacy of Lies

Now she realized that deep down inside, where it really counted, she was just a country bumpkin who’d come to the big city and lost her heart. The trick was to escape before she also lost her soul.

Although every muscle in her body was screaming, she managed to push herself to her feet. Her nose was running. Wiping it, she saw the bright blood on her hand.

“Speaking of timing, I think it’s past time that I went home.” She managed, with effort, to push the words past the sob that was lodged in her throat.

She looked frantically around the room, searching for her wispy panties and stockings. When she couldn’t spot them, she reminded herself that the important thing was to escape this nightmare.

“Surely you do not intend to leave now?” Debord questioned with an arched, mocking brow. “Not when the celebration is just getting started?”

Vomit rose in Alex’s throat. She swallowed it back down again. “If you think I’m going to—” her voice was muffled by the dress she was pulling over her head “—play musical beds with you and Morticia here, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Alexandra.” Debord caught her arm and shook his head in mock chagrin. “I have spent these past weeks patiently introducing you to a world of erotic pleasures. I’ve taught you passion. I’ve taught you to set free your darkest, most innermost emotions.”

That much was true. Some of the things he’d asked Alex to do in the name of love had made her grateful that her bedroom was usually so dark he couldn’t see her blush. Many of them she hadn’t enjoyed. But he obviously had. And at the time, to her, making Debord happy had been the important thing.

“A ménage à trois with Marie Hélène is simply the next step in your education.”

Her blood was like ice in her veins; it pounded behind her eyes like a jackhammer. “You’re both disgusting.” What the hell had happened to her shoes?

“I warned you about Americans,” Marie Hélène sniffed, slanting a knowing glance at her brother.

“I thought you were turning into a sophisticate,” Debord told Alex. His fingers tightened painfully on her upper arm. “But non, my sister was right about you. You are merely a silly schoolgirl with dreams of Prince Charming on a white charger.”

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