I’ll Always Be With You (Lancaster Prep Book 4)

“WEST IS HERE?” I practically gasp, panic clawing at my throat. I don’t mean to have such a strong reaction, but that was the last thing I expected to hear. My heart is hammering in my chest and my skin grows hot, and I do my best not to swivel my head around in search of him.

How did he get invited to my brother’s wedding and I didn’t know? Who did this?

“He was invited,” Mother says, and realization hits.

She did this. I don’t know how exactly, but she made sure West would be here and she is the biggest bitch in the world to spring it on me by using his girlfriend or whatever she is as some sort of torture tool.

“Who invited him?” I ask through barely clenched teeth. My head feels like it might explode, I’m so angry at her.

“Why, I did. We’ve always moved in the same social circles with his parents, and it was such a shame when his father died. I spoke to his mother upon her return to New York, and next thing I know, we’re meeting for lunch dates on a regular basis. His mother is here tonight too,” Mother explains with an excited lilt in her voice.

I stare at her in disbelief, trying to process everything she just said, but I’m stuck on one thing.

West.

He’s here. Right now.

I need to keep it together before my mother tries to make it worse.

“How nice.” My gaze goes to Madison, who’s watching me with laser focus. “You’ll have to tell West I say hello.”

“I will. There are so many people here, I’m sure you won’t bump into him.” Her laughter is overly false and I know she absolutely does not want me to run into West.

“I should go. I’m so thirsty. I need another glass of champagne. I did notice it was Fontaine.” I reach out and rest my hand lightly on Madison’s arm, offering her a faint smile. “Only the best at a Lancaster event, don’t you know.”

“Yes, of course,” Madison murmurs. “Lovely to meet you.”

“You too.” I send a scathing glare in my mother’s direction before I turn and push my way through the crowd, headed for a bar, so I can actually grab another glass of champagne. I need to drench my fury in alcohol. I’m so mad I’m practically fuming.

I scan every face I pass by, annoyance flitting through my veins when people try to stop me and make conversation. I act as if I have no time, keeping my pace hurried, the bar finally in sight and when I approach it, resting my arms on the ledge as I make my request for a glass of champagne, I hear a familiar voice come from behind me.

“I was hoping I’d see you.”

Closing my eyes for the briefest moment, I mentally ask for strength before I pop them open and turn to face Weston.

In the flesh.

Oh, and what beautiful flesh he is, clad in a light gray suit and white shirt that’s open at the collar, no tie in sight. His neck and that tantalizing glimpse of chest are smooth and tanned, and he looks so much older, yet just the same.

“Really? I figured you would be hiding from me. You’re really good at that.”

He grins, the bastard. “You hate me.”

I incline my head toward him. “Yes.”

“Miss, your champagne.”

I turn to the bartender and take the proffered glass, flashing him my best, sweetest smile. “Thank you.”

He smiles in return, dazzled. “You’re welcome, Miss Lancaster.”

“Slaying everyone in your path still I see,” West drawls when I return my focus to him.

I take a sip of the champagne. Cool and crisp, the bubbles pleasant on my tongue. “Why are you here, West?”

He rests his hand against his chest as if I offended him, my gaze settling on those long fingers, remembering what they could do to me. I shake my head once and take another fortifying swallow from my glass, needing the alcohol for courage.

“I was invited,” he says.

“By my mother.”

His smile fades, his expression turning sincere. “I know you two have your issues, but she’s been very kind to my mother since we returned to New York.”

I want to ask him when he returned and why didn’t he call. I want to tell him my mother is using his mother for whatever sick and twisted game she’s concocted, and I want to know when he looks at Madison, is he reminded of me.

Because it hits me right then that’s who she reminds me of. Not someone I know, but of my own self.

And that’s seriously fucked up.

“That’s wonderful. I’m so glad our mothers can become friends and that my mother approves so heartily of your girlfriend.” I offer him a demure smile and sip from my glass before I say something that I might regret.

His expression doesn’t even falter. “Did you meet Madison?”

I raise the glass toward him in a toast. “She’s lovely.”

He leans back on his heels, shoving his open jacket aside so he can rest his hands on his lean hips and damn him, he’s never looked finer. “This is fucking awkward.”

“It’s fine. You ghosted me when we were teenagers and now here we are, having to be polite adults interacting at my brother’s wedding as if we’re old, dear friends while you bring the woman you fuck as your date. It’s wonderful. The perfect reunion.” I down the rest of the glass, hating that I lost my cool and referred to Madison as the woman he fucks.

“Carolina …”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” I say, interrupting him. “It’s fine. We were young and stupid and you did enough damage while we were together at school. How much worse could you make it if you simply didn’t contact me anymore? I understand. I left Lancaster Prep not too soon after you did.”

“I saw that,” he says quietly, his deep voice making every hair on my body stand on end.

“Keeping tabs? I see your girlfriend likes to do that too.” I glance into my empty glass, whirling in frustration and offering it to the bartender, who takes it despite helping someone else. “Another one please?”

“Coming right up,” he says with a nod.

“Can we go somewhere more private and talk about this?” West asks.

I turn toward the boy who broke my heart yet again, trying to study him with objective eyes, but it’s no use. I’m angry at him. Hurt by him. What he did …

Is hard to recover from. Still.

“There’s nowhere private I can take you.” Lies. This house is full of unoccupied rooms. “And I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

Another lie. I’m dying to know what he has to say. How he can explain what he did and make it all right—which he can’t. But I will never know.

Because I’m not about to subject myself to that story.

He rears back a little, surprised? Please. “Really.”

I slowly shake my head, taking the fresh champagne glass from the bartender before I step away from the bar itself, West following me, damn it. “Go back to your girlfriend and enjoy having your continued conversations about me.”

“Conversations about you?” He frowns, which is a good look for him. And now I want to smack his handsome face. “What are you talking about?”

“She mentioned she’s followed my career. She’s seen me perform.” My expression turns snotty, I can feel it. “That’s fan behavior if you ask me.”

The asshole actually starts to laugh. “Oh, Carolina. Never change.”

I’m so infuriated by his reaction, I give him the finger.

Just before I turn and walk away.

I’m headed for the stairwell that leads to our bedrooms when I hear my mother’s voice call out my name. I come to a stop, waiting for her, ready to unleash.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from here,” I snap, shaking off her hold when she tries to touch my arm. “How dare you invite him.”

“Invite who?” The innocent expression on her face is so aggravating because it’s so goddamn phony.

“Stop playing games. I’m not your puppet like Sylvie. You can’t manipulate me,” I practically hiss.

She already did though. I don’t understand why she gets off on putting her children through horribly uncomfortable situations, but here we are. She’s done this to every single one of us time and again, but especially Sylvie.

“I wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone. It’s smart to have West Fontaine on our side. He’s rather powerful, and being so young, it’s even more tantalizing than usual.” Her smile is sly, and I hate that she used the word tantalizing when describing West. She’s old enough to be his mother. She better keep away from him or I’ll—

Inhaling deeply, I mentally tell myself to calm down. This is what she wants. What she gets off on.

A reaction.

“What West and I shared is over,” I tell her with a finality I don’t quite mean. “We were kids.”

“Who were together.”

“You never approved.”

“I never said that. I wasn’t thrilled that the two of you were suspended for your … antics, but I didn’t disapprove of Weston Fontaine. On the contrary, I believe he’d be perfect for you.” She pauses, letting her words sink in. “You saw Madison, did you not? She resembles you.”

“It’s weird.”

“Men have a type, and you’re his type. Sometimes that old, young love feeling never fades. You’d be smart to chase after him.”

“I’m returning to London in two days. I’m busy.”

“You should never be too busy to set up your future, Carolina. And that man could be your future if you play your cards right.”

“Why do you care?” I ask, baffled as ever by her motives. “What does it matter who I end up with?”

“We have an image to maintain, darling. You and Weston are a proper match. You both move in the same social circles and his family’s wealth is vast. Word on the street is he’s preparing to sell Fontaine.” She makes a tsking noise. “That will be a very … interesting move for him to make. It’ll draw a lot of attention.”

It will also make him an absolute load of money.

“And once he does that, the possibilities are endless. You would be smart to set your sights on him. Why do you think I befriended dear old Mads?” She lifts her brows.

Oh, she looks so pleased with herself. My mother is devious. So is my sister and brother.

So am I.

“I’m not going to sabotage his relationship.” I refuse to play by my mother’s tactics. Her children may be devious like she is, but she takes it to a whole other level.

“It would take nothing to sabotage it. Their relationship is so brand new, and Madison is extremely insecure. She knows about your history with West. It would take nothing to decimate them—and her.” Mother smiles and grabs hold of my shoulders, giving me a gentle shove toward the stairs. It happens so quickly I don’t have time to react to her touching me, which she very rarely does. “Think about it.”

Thanks to what she told me, it’s all I can think about for the rest of the evening.