Free StrokeofMidnight by Naima Simone

lips thinned into an
angry slash. “What an inconsiderate, conniving asshole.”
    “Inconsiderate, yes. But not conniving,” Rowyn contradicted
and earned a glare for the effort.
    “You’re defending him?” The other woman’s voice dropped to
an ominous level and Rowyn smiled. To be championed was a rare occurrence and
her friend’s rage on her behalf felt…well…good.
    “No.” She shook her head. “I’m not defending him. But to
call him conniving suggests he actually contemplated how I would feel and made
a decision to be sneaky. Daniel didn’t even consider me in his decision.
I was a nonfactor.”
    “That’s worse.” Wanda inhaled, held it, and released the
breath in a slow, deliberate exhalation. “No,” she growled, “what’s worse is
your bitchy sister making the rounds, spreading rumors that you slept with the
businessman your father is courting for the merger. According to her vicious
gossip, you’re trying to land this deal on your back.”
    “What?” The word exploded from Rowyn’s lips on a hard gust
of breath. Fingers of ice clawed at her, freezing the blood in her veins.
“Darius?”
    “Darius?” Wanda repeated. Confusion wrinkled her brow
seconds before surprise swept it away. “Do you mean the Darius you met in
Seattle last year?”
    Rowyn nodded and uttered a faint, “Yes.” She skimmed the
room, the ice in her belly and chest reaching for her throat. For the first
time, she noticed the sly glances or careful avoidance of eye contact.
    No. Why would Cindy…? Rowyn closed her eyes. Her
stepsister’s voice drifted past her ears as if the younger woman stood right
next to her.
    It seems I do understand after all…
    Oh God. Cindy—sweet, butter-won’t-melt-in-her-mouth,
Cindy—had fucked her.
    “Rowyn.”
    As her heart executed a swan dive toward her feet, she
turned around to face her mother’s pinched, thin-lipped face.
    “In the study,” she snapped, her black eyes glinting with
fury. “Now.”
    * * * * *
    By the time Rowyn closed the study door, she couldn’t shake
the illusion she’d just survived a gantlet of stares and whispers. Each pointed
look and hushed comment slapped and punched at her, leaving invisible but very
real bruises to her pride.
    And it isn’t over yet. She drew back her shoulders,
fixed her I-don’t-give-a-fuck mask firmly in place and faced the family that stood
across the room as one unit—against her.
    “Rowyn,” Pamela began, “I have never been more ashamed of
you than I am at this moment.” Contempt dripped from her voice and it wounded
Rowyn more than she cared to admit. Not the words or even the scorn—those she
was used to. Her mother’s quick acceptance of Rowyn’s alleged crime, though…it
most likely never occurred to Pamela to give her daughter the benefit of the
doubt. Or even defend her character.
    “Convicted without a trial, I see,” she murmured.
    Pamela slashed a hand through the air, cutting through
Rowyn’s protest. “Do you deny that you slept with Darius Fiore?” she asked,
eyes narrowed. “And before you lie, consider that we would not confront you if
we didn’t have a reliable source about your actions.”
    Inside, Rowyn snorted. Like hell. The validity of the source
or the information didn’t matter one damn to them. It was the embarrassment of
being whispered about that had tried, convicted and hanged Rowyn. And the
source—she studied Cindy—wasn’t that reliable.
    Her stepsister wore the appropriate
concerned-and-disappointed expression. Yet beneath the slightly troubled frown,
her eyes gleamed with a satisfaction and malice Rowyn had always known existed
beneath her sweet exterior. From the time Rowyn had entered Daniel and Cindy’s
home, the younger girl had perfected her innocent persona while all along
playing cruel games.
    Daniel, so besotted with the child by his beloved first
wife, didn’t perceive how Cindy monopolized his affection, gently demanding his
attention so he wouldn’t give