Torn In Two: The Manor Series, #2

By Anya Summers

The masked man revealed himself to me.

Now I have two weeks to decide.

Two weeks until he shatters my heart into tiny pieces.

 

Because he was not alone in his desire to claim me.

There was another.

Another who touched me.

Gave me pleasure.

Demanded surrender.

 

Now both demand I choose between them.

I would rather be torn in two.

 

Publisher's Note: Please read book 1 in the series, The Man In The Mask, before reading this title.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S & G Books, LLC
• Release date: Jan 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781735639833

Book preview

1

Brittle did not even begin to describe the state I was in.

Two men.

Over the last week, I had been screwing two men with relish. Looking forward to the next time they touched me, whether it was Max in his office, or Cameron as my masked lover. What this entire situation made me was a great big ho.

My dead parents would be so disappointed. I had spent my life attempting to walk the straight and narrow, to be successful in a manner I hoped would have made them proud of me, had they lived.

That was probably why the illicit temptation each man had presented had reeled me in. The dangerous passion, the unmitigated pleasure, had overwhelmed me, leading me to err in my judgement.

I was curled up in bed, my eyes puffy from crying. If there was one status I never thought I would accomplish in my life, it was that of a ho. An esteemed Doctor of American History, absolutely. The title of Distinguished Professor with an asterisk by my name for some as yet unwritten historical work that would revolutionize the field of history and grant me prominence among my peers, was without a doubt within my life goals. But great big ho had not been anywhere on the list.

It was a pity that I hadn’t thought to include it, because I excelled at it. For the last week, I had been like a cat in heat, lifting my skirt whenever either man appeared. Me, the woman who had no room in her life for dating or a guy, had been banging two of them—blissfully, with unrepentant glee.

Granted, I hadn’t realized they were two different men. But in the cold light of day, my ignorance didn’t matter. After the debacle in the library yesterday, I had sequestered myself in the bedroom.

What must they both think of me?

What did I think of me?

The revelation that they weren’t the same man devastated me. Looking back, I could see it all so clearly now—the little inconsistencies that I had written off as part of the mental illness I’d convinced myself was part of Max’s affliction. But the unvarnished truth was, I hadn’t wanted to see what was really happening in front of me. I had been too enamored by the way each man made me feel. There was no way I could pretend the last week hadn’t happened. Go on as if I hadn’t been touched by them both, loved by them. That one lover had not walked in on me mid-coitus with the other.

What the hell was I going to do about them? About my feelings for each man?

My heart, the most unused organ in my body, had gotten one hell of a workout. And it was breaking into two halves, with each side telling me to pick one. Because I did have feelings for them both. Great, big, scary feelings that left me reeling. What could I do but attempt to stitch the fabric of my heart back together? Beg forgiveness? Leave Bremly Manor?

The growling in my stomach reached a fervent pitch, overshadowing the ache in my chest, and reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. I should call down to the kitchen, order breakfast, and have the meal delivered to my room. It was cowardly, I realized, but I wasn’t ready to face Max, or Cameron. Perhaps, for the time being, working in the bedroom was the best course of action until I knew what to do about my two lovers. All the notes I would need were on my laptop, the same one I had left in the library.

Sherwood would help me. When he delivered breakfast, I could ask him to retrieve the computer for me. Hiding here would at least give me time to figure out what to do about my two guys.

That solved the most immediate problem and, with my decision made, I called the kitchen.

Hi Patricia, it’s Prue. I’m not feeling well. I was wondering if you could have a breakfast tray delivered to my bedroom?

Absolutely, my dear. Do you want the egg casserole I have prepared, or would you like something heartier, like oatmeal?

The egg casserole will be fine.

I’ll add some blueberry muffins and fruit. And I’ll send along some orange juice to get some vitamins into you.

That would be lovely.

Sherwood will be up with your tray in fifteen minutes or so. Also, I will plan on having your lunch and dinner delivered to your room, just call down when you’re ready for them. This way, you can rest and recover.

You’re amazing, Patricia. Thank you. The woman was a national treasure.

We’ll get you feeling better in no time. Call me if there’s anything else you need.

I will, I said, and hung up.

Well, that was one hurdle cleared. Still in my pajamas, I donned my robe and headed over to the vanity. If I moved my things off the top, it would be the perfect place to eat my meals. And then I could prop myself up in bed with a few pillows against the headboard, and work on my dissertation.

That equaled a win-win in my book.

It also provided me with a buffer of time. Time to decide the next steps to take with Max and Cameron. Time for my heart to stop bleeding.

Sherwood arrived a few moments later with a slight knock and his raspy voice. Miss Malone.

Opening the door, I gave the elderly gentleman in his black and white butler’s suit a tremulous smile. Morning Sherwood, thank you for bringing the tray up for me.

Where would you like me to set it, miss? he asked, the white tufts of what was left of his hair sticking out at odd angles. He sort of brought to mind an older Einstein, with his wild hairdo.

On the vanity should be fine. Thank you.

Sherwood nodded and strode past me with the tray. On his way back out, he stopped and asked, Is there anything else I can get for you, miss?

Actually, there is. I forgot my computer in the library. Is there any way you could retrieve it for me? That way I can still work while I’m under the weather.

Certainly, miss. I’m at your disposal. Eat your breakfast, and I will be back momentarily.

Sherwood scooted out the door before I could reply. For an old guy, he moved with pep. The aroma of my breakfast drew me over to the vanity. On the tray was a note, in a thick envelope with my name scrawled on the back.

My hands shook as I opened it and drew the card out.

Prue –

Thinking of you.

Max

There was a single red rose in a vase on the tray. I assumed that was from Max as well. Cameron, with his late night sojourns into my bedroom, didn’t seem like the flower giving type. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pressed the card against my chest. Max was always thoughtful, even when he was being stubborn and stodgy.

My heart trembled.

I still wanted Max. The world altering revelation yesterday hadn’t changed my feelings toward him. His dominance, his discipline, thrilled me. And I adored the way he would lose control, the fury of the sexual heat between us overriding his need to dominate me. A single touch or simmering glance from Max, and I could think of nothing but feeling him inside me once again.

But that still left Cameron.

At the knock on the door, I jolted. In the vanity mirror, I saw my hazel eyes were haunted, with dark smudges underneath. My face looked drawn and pale.

Miss, I have your computer, Sherwood said from the other side of the door.

With the notecard gripped in my hand, I headed over and opened the door for him. He held the laptop out to me with a cheery smile on his wizened face.

Thank you so much, Sherwood.

It’s my pleasure, miss. When you are finished with your meal, just set the tray outside the door, and I will pick it up later. Just call down to the kitchen when you are ready for lunch and dinner, and I will bring those trays up to you as well.

I will. Thank you.

You’re welcome. He bowed with a slight nod, and walked away.

Shutting the door, I flicked the lock against unwanted intruders—or really, against unwanted lovers, when what I needed was time.

And that was what I gave myself: time to decompress and figure out the direction in which I should proceed. I buried myself in my work for a while so that I wouldn’t have to think of Max or Cameron, or the blisteringly hot sex I had experienced at their skilled hands.

It wasn’t until I rested in a bubble bath late that night that my thoughts turned back to them. Who should I choose?

The whole time, I had believed it was Max I was having sex with. Didn’t that mean that he was the one I had fallen for, and not his best friend? It was a good theory, but there were holes in it. Some of my favorite parts of the last week were the nights I fell asleep with Cameron’s strong arms holding me tight.

You weren’t in the library today.

My gaze snapped open. As if thinking of him had conjured him up in my bathroom, Cameron was glowering at me with his hands on his lean hips, his face still shielded. And his gaze smoldered as it raked my form, barely hidden in the bathwater.

I shivered. Goosebumps appeared on my skin. Frothy, peach-scented bubbles clung to my shoulders. Naked, without any defense against him, I pulled my knees up to my chest and did my best to cover my body.

Stop that. Your body belongs to me, he snarled, his lip curled derisively.

No, it doesn’t. It belongs to me. What are you doing here, Cameron? And how did you get in my room? Did you pick the lock?

I have my ways. He knelt and reached for me.

I backed away from his outstretched hand. The corners of his mouth turned down. Why do you recoil from me?

Because you’re angry with me. And if he touched me, I feared my response.

Do you think me a monster? That I would strike you in anger? he snapped.

You didn’t even tell me who you really were. You let me believe that you and Max were the same man.

I did no such thing.

Didn’t you? I blasted him. "Did you ever once say to me, Hey Prue, while I want you to call me Master, my name’s Cameron? You’ve never shown your face. You blindfolded me and made it so that I never could make that determination.