Love-in-Idleness Read online

“I understand what the money can do for us, but we would survive without it. There has to be more to it.”

  “I need to keep what I have.”

  “You’re talking about Gianni, aren’t you?”

  “She’s happy here.”

  “Are you?”

  “Grace, I love her. Don’t make it hard for me to hold on to her. I’ve already lost enough.”

  Grace wanted to yell. She wanted to shout to the rooftops that his girlfriend was a gold-digging whore, but she held it in, for once in her life. Instead, she walked to her father and gave him a tight hug, the way she used to when she was little. When she pulled back, she held onto one of his hands.

  “I’m going to spend a couple of nights at Ryder’s house. His folks have an extra room and they won’t mind if I crash there. I need some perspective, and you need some time to plan your wedding without me insulting your bride every five minutes.”

  There was no reason for Theo to object. He had known Ryder and his parents for years. They were practically family, which would have been awkward if Grace and Ryder weren’t such good kids. Ryder stayed in the guest bedroom of their Brooklyn apartment on a couple of occasions, and Grace was smart enough to stay in her own bed when adults were in the house.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I was really hoping you could spend some time with Gia, maybe give her another chance. If you tried to understand her just a little, you might learn to like her.”

  “You too, with the Gia business? I don’t care what kind of pearls you put on that sow, she’ll always be a Jersey girl to me.” Grace turned to leave. “So, yeah, I’m sure. Gianni and I aren’t going to magically bond before the wedding. And if you want me to make it through the ceremony without objecting publicly, I should probably take a few days to chill.”

  Theo smiled at this, as Grace knew he would. Despite everything they had been through lately, he still knew her better than anyone. She was stubborn and judgmental, but in a quiet way. She had no desire to explore her feelings. She spoke her mind and then she was done with it. This evening, in the park with Cam, was the first time she could remember doubting herself, maybe ever, but she wasn’t about to discuss that with anyone.

  Before she walked out of the apartment, she turned back to her father and smiled. “I love you, Dad,” she said quietly, and with absolute sincerity. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

  Theo smiled and waved good-bye to his daughter. “I love you, too, Gracie.”

  And with that, Grace grabbed her overpriced purse and left.

  After the debacle of a dinner, Puck Oberon was more than ready for a real drink. After Miles disappeared into his office, Puck went straight to the largest of the three living spaces in the penthouse. This was the most casual, with chocolate brown velvet furniture and heavy drapes that were currently pulled back to reveal a meticulously groomed rooftop garden, lit by electric lanterns that were fashioned after antique streetlamps. Because this room was the most comfortable space in the penthouse, the boys had long ago claimed it. As long as they didn’t make too much of a ruckus, the other members of the household generally left them alone.

  Since Puck and Cam’s mother died fourteen years ago, they had essentially been raised by servants who were paid to stay out of their business. One of Miles’ wives made a half-hearted attempt to parent the boys, but Miles quickly put a stop to that. In the Oberon household, there was only one person who was allowed to parent Puck and Cam. Miles made no secret of his right to absolute authority over the boys. Now that Miles had a new son, India, with his current wife, Titania, he showed a desire to maintain control over that child as well. As far as Puck could tell, this was most of the reason that Miles was divorcing her.

  Puck located a bottle of Lagavulin single malt scotch on a back tier of the bar and focused his attention on it, picturing it landing in his waiting hand. The bottle slowly began to tremble and then stopped. A moment later, it smoothly lifted itself straight up and out of the row of liquor bottles and soared to Puck. As Puck amused himself by mentally causing the cork to wiggle itself out of the neck of the bottle, he could hear the phone in his pocket ringing. Specifically, it was the twittering tone that Puck had assigned to Nick Bottom. It seemed to fit Nick, whose frequent monologues had little substance and, in Puck’s mind, always faded to white noise after a few minutes, in the same way that one might tune out the constant chirping of a pet bird.

  On his father’s request, Puck had arranged to meet his usual gang of compatriots about twenty minutes ago, but he wasn’t worried about making them wait. They would wait as long as they had to if it meant maintaining a friendship with Miles Oberon’s son.

  Miles had a specific task that he was hoping the boys would undertake. On this, of all nights, Puck was eager to comply with any wish his father might have. The fact that his brother had recently come into favor with their father, based on the paltry ability to be charming with girls, infuriated Puck. He had always assumed that his place as his father’s favorite was secured by his inheritance of the family’s magical abilities. This gift had bypassed Cam. As a result, Cam was usually left to his own devices. Puck was the one who spent hours in seclusion with Miles, being carefully trained in the ways of magic. If his father needed someone to deal with Grace, why would he choose Cam, who didn’t possess even a speck of magical ability? Puck could have wrapped up the entire situation by the end of the evening. Cam was good-looking, but he was kind of a pansy. Puck could easily imagine his little brother becoming friends with Grace and giving her a shoulder to cry on, instead of seducing her like he was supposed to.

  For hundreds of years, the Oberon family had passed the gift of magic from one generation to the next. While the specific powers of each successive inheritor varied, most of the Oberon children had at least an inkling of supernatural ability. Since toddlerhood, Puck displayed an ability to move inanimate objects simply by envisioning the end result of the movement. He could also influence the will of others, causing them to give in to impulses they might have otherwise resisted.

  He was born with a playfully sardonic nature and, as a child, would amuse himself by causing misfortune for others. The preschool classroom that he and Cameron attended seemed to be unusually stricken by ill luck. Paint cups tipped into the laps of the prissiest girls, and sand buckets became mysteriously stuck on tiny noggins whenever the teacher glanced away for a moment. Cameron was as likely as the other children to fall prey to Puck’s mischief. He would often pick up a toy, only to have it propel itself out of his hands and across the room. At the end of the day, handsome little Cam would be covered in the remains of his lunch and traces of whatever art supplies that had mysteriously disintegrated and gooped onto his skin and clothes. Puck, however, would remain clean and in excellent humor amidst the chaos. His teachers criticized Cam for being fumble-fingered and praised Puck for his fastidious nature. It didn’t take Puck long to learn that he could benefit by comparison.

  For years, Puck had been granted greater access than Cam to their father’s attention. Without training, his abilities would not develop to their full potential. Cam’s greatest abilities were being attractive and socially adept. Those talents could be nurtured elsewhere.

  However, when Theo and Grace appeared a few weeks ago, it was suddenly Cam who was called into Miles’ office for extended periods. Despite the fact that Miles shared with both boys that there was some undisclosed relationship between Theo’s family and their own, he refused to share the entire story. They only knew that Grace was the focus of his efforts. She was the reason that Gia had been sent into Theo’s life.

  Even in light of these details, Puck couldn’t understand how Cam had become the chosen one in regards to this project. He was assigned the job of forming a relationship with Grace. The only favor that Miles asked of Puck required no magic whatsoever. Instead, he was beset with the task of coercing his friends to be the entertainment at the wedding. This seemed to Puck like a task for which Cam would be better suited. Nonetheless,
as trivial as it seemed, Puck was willing to use this task as a chance to prove his worth.

  Besides, tonight seemed like a good night to get out of the penthouse for a while. Titania’s maid arrived earlier to prepare one of the guest rooms. Having been advised by her lawyer not to vacate the penthouse, Titania had abandoned her suite at the Plaza and would return tonight to face her crumbling marriage head-on. Until she had a chance to get settled and move out of the common areas of the penthouse, the entire household would be walking on eggshells.

  Puck didn’t like to get involved in his father’s ongoing attempts to rid himself of his current wife. There had been a time when Puck believed that Miles might come clean with Titania and share the story of the Oberon family legacy. After all, Titania came from a wealthy Spanish family whose roots could be traced back to a time when magic flourished in Spain. However, when Miles’ and Titania’s son, India, had been born, any question of Titania’s longevity in the family disappeared from Puck’s mind. Within a year or two, India began to show signs of telekinesis. In private, Miles told Puck that he needed sole custody of India in order to properly train him without Titania’s knowledge. Even though she might not see any actual instruction taking place, toddlers aren’t known for their discretion. Puck could remember many times in his own life that he caused a book to screech through the air toward Cam’s little head, right in front of a nanny. The Oberon family’s servants were paid handsomely in exchange for their discretion. India’s own mother would probably not be so easily dissuaded from demanding an explanation for any such slip-ups.

  Carrying his glass of scotch, Puck walked down the wide marble-tiled hallway toward his bedroom to change into casual clothes. However, before he made it, Titania’s Portuguese maid, Ana, emerged from the largest of the guest bedrooms. Puck loved having Ana in the penthouse. He loved the way her maid’s uniform fit her so snugly that the outline of her body was accentuated. He enjoyed the sound of her accent when she spoke. Mostly, though, he was crazy for the ease with which she could be coerced into joining him in his bed.

  As she began to move down the hall, she was so immersed in her duties that she didn’t see Puck for a second and almost ran into him. Startled, she looked up at him, her round, deep brown eyes peeking out from under the hair that had fallen over her face.

  “Hello, Ana,” he purred, reaching a hand out to brush the hair from her eyes. “I’m so pleased to see you here tonight.” Perhaps later, she could prove to be the one part of his day that wasn’t completely discouraging.

  She blushed deeply and smiled up at him. “Titania and her son will be sleeping here tonight. She sent me to make up the room.”

  “What could she possibly need that our regular staff didn’t provide?”

  “Your staff cleans,” Ana chided. “I put things right. Titania has certain requirements. She needs the good linens and her bath already drawn when she arrives. Tonight, she wants a bed in her room for India. She would rather have him with her than in the nursery.”

  Puck couldn’t resist the temptation to reach out and run his finger slowly from her chin, down her jaw line and to her slender neck, where he let it linger. “You should warn Titania. My father is home, and he is in a foul mood.” He let his finger slide slightly lower, toward her décolletage. “He’s already got a bee in his bonnet about Theo’s daughter. I don’t think he would do well, being bothered by another woman today.”

  “What do you suggest I do?”Ana asked, catching her breath slightly as Puck allowed his hand to complete its path to the slightly exposed cleavage that peeked above her uniform. He calmly allowed his entire hand to rest there, comfortably, warmly placed on her bosom. “Titania’s lawyer advised her against moving out of the penthouse. He says she must stay here or she will concede power to Mr. Oberon.”

  Puck leaned in close to her, searching her eyes for a sign that he might not be alone in his room tonight. “Perhaps it would be helpful if the boy were sent for a visit with my father. The way she keeps them apart, I worry that they won’t bond properly.”

  “Oh, no. I am forbidden to take the child to Mr. Oberon.” For moment, it seemed to Puck that Ana resisted the controlling signals he was sending. She pulled back from him slightly. “I especially don’t want that sweet boy to be near you.”

  “Ana, I’m hurt. After all of our time together, you wouldn’t trust me with my own little brother?”

  “Trust you? After all of the mornings I have woken up in your room, wondering how I got there? Every time it happens, I say I will never surrender again, yet there I am. There is something strange about you, Puck. I watch what happens in this house, and I see things... things that aren’t natural.”

  Puck was fully aware that Ana had seen an occasional spoon or glass fly across the room on its own. He couldn’t be expected to stand up and fetch every little thing he needed. Was it his fault if Ana happened to walk in on him summoning objects from time to time? He could specifically recall a time when he hurled a tennis ball toward Cam’s head just to test his own telekinetic aim, only to realize that Anne had come into the room when he wasn’t looking. He wondered if Ana shared what she’d seen with Titania, but he was pretty sure that Ana would speak of him as little as possible. Titania wouldn’t approve of her maid sleeping with Miles’s son, so Ana would surely want to give the appearance of being completely indifferent toward Puck. “What can I say?” He moved closer until his body was pressing her against the wall. “Boys will be boys.” Puck could tell that she was not going to give in to him easily tonight, so he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping it back so that he could look directly into her eyes. Mentally, he pictured the thing that he wanted from her and concentrated until his temples began to feel hot.

  She pushed his chest hard with the flat of her hand. “I know what boys do. They flirt with their stepmother’s maid, and they pick fights with their brothers. They don’t make the sugar dish fly across the room.”

  “You weren’t supposed to see that.” Puck smirked, trying to maintain eye contact, but failing.

  “You should be more careful.” Ana threw up her hands and walked away, muttering something in Portuguese. Puck was confused. How had she not succumbed to his manipulation? It must be the stress dulling his powers. He would need to talk to his father about this later.

  9:30 PM

  Several blocks away, in a small tavern on Lexington Avenue, Puck Oberon approached a table full of loud teenagers. Each bore the unmistakable marks of wealth. Their clothes were new, their hair and nails were perfect, and each one of them held themselves with the upright posture born of a lifetime of being observed. They were all princes within their private school world, but Puck was far and away the leader of this haughty little pack. His minions came and went over the years, falling in and out of favor as he inevitably grew tired of them. He felt little genuine affection for them. They all attached themselves to him for the same reason. He was the son of Miles Oberon. Everyone knew that fortune had a way of smiling on those who ingratiated themselves with the Oberon clan.

  This crew, in particular, was full of shameless sycophants. Puck’s mood in recent months required a certain amount of admiration from his friends, and these boys were selected largely based on their willingness to fawn on him.

  One by one, as the boys noticed that Puck had arrived, the banter at the table came to a stop. A slight, whiskerless boy named Francis jumped out of his seat and ran to the bar to get a drink for Puck. While the bartender knew that not one member of the group was of legal age, Puck had long ago convinced him that there was no need to check the identification of his friends. Puck waited patiently for Francis to return before he spoke.

  “So,” Puck began as he took a seat. “Is everyone here?”

  “I printed your e-mail and checked off everyone’s names when they came in,” Nick Bottom offered enthusiastically. Nick wasn’t a real New Yorker. His family came from Texas oil money. Besides being quite large and very loud, most of his family was
rather thick-headed. Nick was no exception.

  Puck laughed out loud at Nick’s show of leadership. There had only been five names on the list.

  Peter Quince held his hand up as if to symbolically push Nick back into his place. “I think everyone who should be here is,” he insisted.

  “So,” Puck began. “I need all of you here for a reason. My father wants a favor of us.” The word favor had its desired effect. Every boy at the table leaned forward in a show of keen interest. To do a favor for the Oberon family could mean that they might later be owed a favor by the Oberons. “Miles has a new business partner who is getting married. My father has hired the wedding planner and is coordinating the event.”

  Nick leaned forward eagerly. “I know who they are. That Jersey woman with the boobs.You think those are real?”

  “Honestly,” Puck stated calmly, “I never really looked.”

  “Well, you should,” Nick said.

  “You’re an idiot,” Francis snipped, taking a sip of his drink.

  Peter spoke up, in an apparent effort to return to the matter at hand. “What’s the favor?”

  Puck waited for silence before he spoke. “As you know, my father has been to a few weddings-“

  “Oh yeah, he has!” Nick howled in laughter at his own joke. “He’s been married to every hot MILF in town.”

  A silence came over the table.

  “What?” Nick asked, looking around and shrugging.

  “One of those MILFs was my mother, you horse’s ass.” Puck wasn’t really angry. He just loved messing with Nick, so he tried to look stern.

  “His dead mother,” Francis hissed in a high-pitched whisper, as if everyone couldn’t hear him.

  “As I was saying.” Puck sighed. This just shouldn’t be this hard, he thought. I have to get smarter friends. “My father has instructed the wedding planner to create a Shakespearean theme for the reception. Dinner will be a feast of meat, ale, and wine. There will also be professional jugglers and acrobats, all dressed in Elizabethan garb. In order to include some of us in the fun, he also decided that we will present a play at the reception.”