Prologue…
His life changed at ten. And it happened gradually. Ten years old and he was faced with the unnerving truth of the kind of parents he had.
His life wasn't perfect after all. It was rotten to the core. His mother and father weren't in love, they couldn't be. His mother wasn't an angel as he originally thought of her. It was easy to think of her as such. With her lustrous thick waist-length blonde hair and vivid blue eyes, he always considered her an angel from heaven.
That was when he believed in God and heaven.
The image was shattered that fateful night, and he had to grow up real quick.
He knew they were fabulously wealthy and he was spoiled. Much more than his older sister Irene. She had always resented him for that fact. She was three years older and looked more like their dad with sable brown hair and gray eyes. She considered herself plain and complained all the time about not looking like him and his mom. And the fact that she was flat chested. He had no idea what that meant or at the time did not give a whit. Irene was a complainer and that was all there was to it.
She had also warned him that one day he was going to learn that their lives weren't so perfect.
Well, that time had come suddenly and slammed him in the gut. He literally felt his tummy aching.
He often wondered if he had not decided to sneak downstairs and grab an icicle — the raspberry flavor he could not get enough of! He wondered if he had stayed in bed, if he would have gone on being oblivious to the happenings in the opulent household. He would never know.
He was making his way towards the kitchen, trying to be quiet in case that mean Mrs. Tubbs, their housekeeper happened to pop out of her rooms and caught him in the act of being out of bed on a school night at the 'ungodly' hour of eleven! If he was caught, he would be marched straight back upstairs and reprimanded in that prim and proper tone of hers and denied dessert the next day at supper. He had made it past the blue and green powder room, the yellow salon which was his mother's favorite place and thought he was home free. He just had to pass the library which curiously had the door slightly ajar and light spilling out. Someone was in there. He just knew. Mrs. Tubbs was the only staff member living at the manor and she was diligent about turning out all the lights.
His heart started beating erratically. It could be a burglar. They had a very good security system as he had often overheard his parents saying, but a clever burglar could find his way in.Clutching his stuffed dinosaur that he had named Tyran, he stopped in the long hallway and wondered if he should race upstairs and try and wake his parents. It could be a burglar with guns. They could be killed. His cerulean blue eyes widened at the horrified thought.
He should try and wake Mrs. Tubbs; she would know what to do. He was about to sprint away quietly when he heard the sounds. Odd sounds, not ones a burglar would be making.
Clutching his stuffed toy closer, he inched forward, breath coming fast. Careful to keep out of sight, he edged towards the door. Just a peek, he thought. He would find out what was happening and then decide what to do.
The little boy in his dinosaur PJs and his dinosaur stuffed toy, blonde hair tumbling over his forehead, peered inside and had to stifle the shocked cry from coming out. There were two people and they were completely naked. At first, he felt embarrassment at having caught his parents doing it and was about to scuttle away, when his father eased back. The woman sprawled on the lovely oak desk had raven black hair. He knew her. Dean knew who she was of course. It was his mother's best friend and his godmother, Cynthia Blagrove, and she was married to his dad's best friend.
How could they — what — he shrank back into the shadows when she rose and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"That was very good." She whispered huskily, slender body molded to his dad's. "I wonder if Isobel and Jonathon are having as much fun as we are."
His father — CEO of Collier Bank and Trust, with holdings all over the world — patted her naked butt and chuckled. "I'm sure my wife and your husband are having as much fun as we are. They're upstairs in her bedroom."
"I was so happy you suggested we stay the night."
"So am I. How about a drink and then we retire upstairs. Wouldn't want the staff or God forbid, the children to see us like this."
That was when Dean fled. His craving for an icicle had dissolved along with his innocence. But first, he had to find out if his father was telling the truth. His mother was upstairs in bed with another man.
Heart racing, he crept along the carpeted hallway, towards the heavy ornately etched double doors that led to his mother's suite. The significance of his parents not sharing a bedroom suite had been lost on him before. Easing the door open, he made his way past the elegant pink and gray sitting room and into the bedroom. With the lights spilling in from the moon, he was able to clearly see the man and woman.
His mother was naked and purring like a steam engine. And she was sitting on top of the man in the wide ocean of bed. Her white skin was gleaming from the light of the moon, blonde hair flowing down her back. From where he stood, he could see her breasts and the hands cupping them.
And he saw the man's face looking all weird.
"Christ Isobel, I cannot get enough of you." His voice was harsh.
"We have all night darling." His mother whispered hoarsely. "Now stop talking and make me come."
Dean fled a second time and made it to his room just in time to be sick. He brought up the pineapple chicken he had for supper into the toilet bowl, his thin body shaking. His parents were having sex with other people, in the same house. In their house. It was a nightmare. Surely, he was fast asleep and any minute now, he was going to wake up and discover to his relief that the entire thing was not real.
But he knew it was. And looking back, he had seen the signs. People spending the night. His parents having these intimate dinner parties. His father going out alone and coming back at all hours of the night.
And oh God! His assistant, Eloise Trundle. She had come over one night for work and had stayed. Stumbling towards the sink, he rinsed his mouth out and got a good look at his face. His eyes were red-rimmed, his complexion pasty. He looked like a zombie, he thought bitterly.
His sister had tried to warn him. His sister! He jerked upright. Did she know?
Racing from the bathroom, he grabbed his robe and made his way down the hall towards her door. Pushing it open, he ran past her pink and white sitting room until he was inside her matching bedroom. Jumping in the princess-type bed with its gauzy shades and heaps of pillows, he shook her awake.