GHOST OF HONOR

  by

  Pandora Pine

  Ghost of Honor

  Copyright © Pandora Pine 2023

  All Rights Reserved

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Digital Edition: April 2023

  PROLOGUE

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  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  Aramis

  Wilder Estate, Salem, Massachusetts, 1986…

  It was a dark and stormy night. Not that Aramis Wilder, heiress to the Wilder Candies fortune, gave two damns. Her parents were in Cannes, soaking up the sun on the French Riviera, leaving their twenty-year-old daughter to fend for herself with a measly allowance of five thousand dollars per month. What’s a Boston society girl to do with such a paltry sum?

  Why, throw a bitchin’ roaring twenties party, of course. Aramis had always loved flapper dresses adorned with crystals, sequins, or willowy ostrich feathers. She was dressed to the nines in a flashy silver gown, guaranteed to turn heads. Her headpiece was fashioned from the same material as her dress and was set off with ostrich plumes and a silver brooch. She looked like a million dollars, and that was before she added the sparkle. Around her neck was the Wilder Diamond, her mother’s most prized possession.

  The jewel was an absolute stunner. It was square cut, weighed over one hundred carats, and was yellow in color. It was placed in a simple platinum setting, but the chain that held it was almost as spectacular, studded with another fifty carats of white diamonds. Laura Wilder said the gem was priceless, but Aramis figured it was worth a million dollars at least, but who was counting?

  It had been passed down through five generations of Wilder wives and daughters. Aramis was the next in line to inherit the stone unless her older sister, Minerva, was somehow welcomed back into the family. In that unlikely case, the stone would pass to her sister.

  Minerva Wilder had been a notorious party girl. Blonde and blue-eyed like Aramis, she caught the attention of nearly every man she encountered. Her wild days of drinking and promiscuous sex caught up with her when Minerva got pregnant at the end of her senior year of high school. She’d finished the year and earned her diploma before Sebastian and Laura Wilder had sent their wayward daughter to live with an aunt in Maine during her pregnancy, but when Minerva refused to give the child up for adoption, the Wilders disinherited her, sending only a small monthly allowance that wasn’t nearly enough to cover rent and utilities, never mind baby supplies and insurance co-pays.

  Aramis was smart enough to know she could have walked in her sister’s shoes if not for a lucky break with her undercover lover. She’d been extra careful with her birth control pills and made sure Finn suited up when they got down. He hated wearing a condom, but Aramis insisted. She wasn’t going to lose out on her inheritance thanks to an accidental pregnancy.

  Robert Finnegan, Finn to his friends, was from the wrong side of the tracks. He’d graduated from Salem High School two years ago and had gone to work on the Wilder Estate with his father, Joe, who was the head landscaper and groundskeeper. This was as good as it was going to get for Finn, which was why Aramis took extra care to make sure she didn’t end up pregnant. She didn’t mind boning the gardener in secret, but her sights were set much higher where a potential husband was concerned.

  Landing a wealthy husband was top among her concerns now that Aramis had completed her junior year at Boston College. She was majoring in communications, not that she’d ever put that degree to use. She would spend her married days lounging by the pool in some far-off locale, possibly Cannes, like her parents. She’d spend her husband’s money like a sailor on shore leave and pop out a child or two so his family would continue for another generation. Nannies would, of course, care for the children. Life as a wealthy wife would be far too busy for her to worry about raising kids.

  The guest list for this evening’s party had been carefully curated. Young men from the finest families in Boston had been invited. Their Lamborghinis, Porches, and BMWs filled the wide drive in front of the mansion. All Aramis had to do now was choose which one she’d seduce this evening.

  Her two best friends, Aubrey Silas and Sterling Archer, had arrived an hour ago. They’d been more interested in the booze and boys in the ballroom than in sitting with Aramis while she finished getting dressed and applying her makeup. She’d been upset at first, being left alone, but in her friends’ shoes, she would have done the same thing, picking dicks over chicks, as it were.

  Aramis glided down the grand staircase, the beaded tassels clicking together as she moved. Approaching the ballroom, she heard loud music—Def Leppard—and raucous laughter. Before making her grand entrance, she peered through the partially open door where her best friends were the center of attention.

  Aubrey Silas was dressed in black, which complemented her dark auburn hair. Her flashy dress fell several inches short of her knees. The gown fit her like a glove, leading Aramis to think it had been created just for Aubrey. Her friend looked as good as she could, what with the thirty extra pounds she was carrying. Aubrey had never met a cupcake she didn’t like, and it showed. No one seemed to care about her weight once the booze started flowing. Aramis was a perfect size four. So what if she stuck her finger down her throat several times a week to maintain her size.

  Aramis turned her attention to her other friend, Sterling Archer, who she’d known since kindergarten. Sterling wore a stunning lavender dress, which, truth be told, Aramis wished she’d chosen for herself. Sterling was a knockout, with her long, slim legs and perfect perky tits, a graduation gift from her parents.

  Seeing her friends with a crowd of handsome and rich men around her ignited an inferno of envy in Aramis. This was her party. If she had a magic mirror, like the Wicked Queen, there was no doubt it would proclaim Sterling as the fairest in the land. Fuck that—she was the most gorgeous woman in the room. Now it was time to prove it. “The life of the party has arrived!” she announced with a flourish, throwing an arm high in the air.

  No one noticed her. The crowd of young men didn’t move from Sterling’s side, and no one offered her a drink. It was a world gone fucking mad. Aramis lowered her arm and stalked over to the boom box, angrily snapping it off.

  “Hey, what the fuck?” Ingram Welliver wailed, sounding like a toddler who’d just had his cookie stolen. His blue eyes lit on Aramis, casually sliding from her legs upward to her tits, where they stayed as the man licked his lips. “Sorry, Aramis. The dorm mothers at Brown do the same thing. Buncha washed-up battleaxes, if you ask me.” He left the group of friends and sidled up to Aramis, putting his arm around her waist, which quickly slid down to her ass.

  Ingram wasn’t the man she’d set her sights on for the evening, although she could do a damn sight worse than the son of infamous Boston defense attorney Titan Welliver. Ingram was in his first year of law school at Brown. He wanted to follow in his father’s famous footsteps freeing murderers, rapists, and other unjustly charged clients. Aramis didn’t care how Ingram planned to spend his days, so long as his billable hours resulted in baubles like the one she wore around her neck.

  “Took you long enough to even notice me.” Aramis turned up her nose and made to walk away from Ingram. It was a move she’d copied from Vivien Leigh’s Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind.

  “Don’t be like that.” Ingram planted a line of kisses down her throat. “I always give you what you want, don’t I?”

  Aramis moaned slightly. Ingram had magical fingers and an even more talented tongue. A tongue she hoped would soon be put to good use.

  “I thought I was your one and only?” Julian Folsom asked, his blue eyes filled with anger-fueled jealousy.

  Ingram was quick to slip back to Sterling and Aubrey.

  “You were sniffing after Sterling, so I figured you’d forgotten all about me.” Aramis pouted, knowing she had him wrapped around her little finger. Aramis ran a hand down the side of Julian’s left cheek. His scruff tickled her finger.

  Julian’s father owned a string of high-end sports car dealerships. His red Lamborghini had been a graduation present from his father. He’d spent the last three years living on his allowance under his father’s roof. He’d take over the dealerships in time, but for now, he’d been content to live the high life on his father’s dime.

  Not that Aramis would bring that to Julian’s attention. He had a quick temper that flashed red-hot. She’d heard rumors that he’d been physically abusive to past girlfriends, but Aramis didn’t put much stock in those tales. Dumped girls could be jealous, vindictive bitches. She should know. Aramis was the queen of vindictive bitches.

  “What do you say we make this a private party?” Julian asked, nibbling at the spot behind Aramis’s ear that drove her crazy.

  “Maybe later,” she cooed. “I need a couple drinks first.” Pressing a light k iss to his cheek, she headed toward the bar, which, thanks to her parents, was always well stocked. Aramis reached for the bottle of Malibu. She unscrewed the cap and breathed in the coconut scent, which always reminded her of trips to Cabo. She went to get a glass when a nondescript white envelope caught her attention. Her name was written in block print across the front. Turning around to see if any of her friends were paying attention, she took the envelope and flipped it open. Inside was a single sheet of heavy white writing paper. Pulling it out, Aramis noticed there was no maker’s mark or letterhead. The message was written in blue ink and in the same printing as the envelope. “Meet me by the statue of Zeus and I’ll make all your wildest dreams come true.” Aramis read the message a second time, her heart pounding and her breath coming in small gasps.

  “Make my wildest dreams come true,” she muttered under her breath. Aramis surveyed her group of friends. Ingram had turned the music back up and was dancing with Aubrey. His hands were glued to her chubby ass while his lips were buried in her ample cleavage. He could hardly have been the one who sent the note if he was so intent on seducing Aubrey. Julian was away from the group, chatting with Kingsley Worth, the man Aramis had chosen for herself. Both men laughed at something King said. His eyes met hers from across the room, sending her heart beating faster. He had to be the author.

  King’s father was the CEO of Worth Steel. The company had been in operation for nearly a century, all of which were helmed by various Worth men. King would continue the tradition when his father passed the mantle to him. He was about to start an MBA program at Yale after having spent his undergrad years at Harvard, just as all the other Worth men had done. King’s dark eyes glittered with need as he dropped Aramis a wink.

  She smiled back before pouring herself a stiff drink. She needed to loosen up a bit before she met King in the gardens. Aramis tossed the first shot back effortlessly; the same was true for the second. The third shot splashed against her lips and cheek. She managed to swallow what she could and wiped the rest away with the back of her hand. The smell of coconut mixed with her expensive perfume. Looking past the bottles stacked on the bar, Aramis caught a look at herself in the mirror. She was gorgeous. Her bright eyes were lined perfectly, her cheeks were pinkened, thanks to the rum, and her gown was snug, the swell of her breasts filling the front of her dress to perfection.

  Tucking the note back into its envelope, Aramis slid it into the bodice of her dress and headed for the ballroom door. She would sneak out to the garden through the kitchen door so no one would follow and ruin her rendezvous.

  “Where are you going?” Sterling called out.

  “To powder my nose!” Aramis shouted back, her voice carrying over the music. She didn’t wait for Sterling’s response. The last thing she needed was for her friend to follow along behind her like a lost puppy.

  Running down the hall, Aramis was breathless when she burst into the kitchen, where Finn sat munching on grapes. “Still here?” she asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

  “None of those rich bitch college boys can give you what you really need. I’m just waiting around for you to realize that.” Finn raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to challenge him.

  “What is it you think I really need?” Aramis didn’t have time to go around and around with Finn again. Yes, he had a big dick. Yes, he knew how to use it. None of it mattered since he’d never be anything more than the gardener. She would never marry him.

  “You need someone who really sees you, Aramis. The real you. Not this overprimped party girl wearing too much makeup and not enough underwear.” Finn got up from his seat and sauntered toward Aramis.

  Aramis felt herself blush. She had gone commando under her dress for easy access. She was braless too, thanks to her formfitting dress. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Finn that her underwear was none of his business, but she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to prolong this conversation. She had a sexy man to meet and fuck. “Maybe so, but…”

  Finn kissed her hard, his rough hands cupping Aramis’s face. His tongue rubbed against her own, making her moan in pleasure.

  “No, Finn.” Aramis sighed, reluctantly pushing away from him. She’d never been able to resist Finn with his broad shoulders and six-pack abs. “I’ve got to meet someone,” She pulled the note free and waved it through the air. “Maybe I’ll see you later.” She moved quickly to the door, pleased to see it had stopped raining.

  She practically ran through the garden paths to the centerpiece of the garden, her father’s prized statue of Zeus. The Greek god stood gloriously naked, muscles rippling, thunderbolt in hand, ready to hurl. Zeus, however, was alone. There was no sign of the mysterious note-sender.

  Aramis took a minute to catch her breath. It wouldn’t do for her suitor to see her out of breath. Finn’s words replayed in her mind. He did see her. Aramis knew that. He didn’t mind her little temper tantrums and had somehow managed to get to know the real girl behind all the makeup and fancy clothes.

  All thoughts of Finn vanished when she heard footsteps hurrying down the garden path. Her heart pounded with anticipation.

  “You came,” a familiar voice whispered from behind.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Aramis asked, turning around. This couldn’t possibly be the person who’d sent the note.

  “I’m here to make your dreams come true,” the note-sender said with a malicious smile, taking a step forward and raising a hand. One of the garden lights flashed bright on the blade of a knife.

  “No!” Aramis screamed. Pain, sharp and hot, flared to life in her chest. She looked down to see the hilt of the knife sticking out of her before it was ripped free, sending a torrent of blood gushing from the wound, soaking her dress. She stumbled forward and fell to the garden path. This couldn’t be how her life ended, here on the ground at the foot of Zeus.

  “Die, bitch,” Aramis’s would-be killer whispered, taking a step back as her blood pooled beneath her body.

  The last thing Aramis heard before her eyes shut for the last time was laughter. Dark. Rich. Deep. Satisfied.

  1

  Jude

  August, present day…

  “Come on, Lizbet, I just changed you!” Jude Byrne groaned when the aroma of fresh baby shit reached his nose. “What did you eat?” Jude held his nose, making his voice squeaky, which the baby loved.

  Lizbet’s face turned a deeper shade of red, telling Jude she wasn’t finished filling her diaper. The baby smiled brightly as if she were proud of her handiwork.

  “Ew! Lizbet! Your butt stinks!” Jude’s son, Wolf, exclaimed as he walked into the kitchen. He gagged dramatically before dropping to the floor, which delighted his little sister.

  “What’s all the racket?” Copeland Forbes, Jude’s husband, asked. His shirt was unbuttoned and untucked.

  “Lizbet left you a gift, Daddy Cope!” Jude exclaimed. He was all in with the care of their two kids, but this was the second load the baby had dropped this morning. He’d done his duty to God and country. It was Cope’s turn to jump in.

  “Gee, thanks.” Cope grimaced, plucking the baby from her seat. “Come on, cutie.”

  Lizbet gurgled happily, reaching for Cope’s face with her chubby hand.

  “Wolf, do you want breakfast, or are you still dead?” Jude asked with a grin.

  “Still dead!” Wolf crowed from the floor. “Sissy stinks. Peee! Youuu!” The little boy held his nose.

  “Spoiler alert, pal. You did, too, when you were a baby.” Jude had plenty of practice changing diapers, thanks to Everly, Ronan and Tennyson’s daughter. She’d been born several months before he and Cope adopted Wolf.

  “Oh, my God!” Cope howled from the other room. “What the hell did Daddy feed you?”

  “Beans and beer! The breakfast of champions.” Jude laughed as he walked into the living room.

  Cope raised an eyebrow. “Don’t just stand there, help me.”

  “I’d like to help, but I need to feed Wolfie.” Jude snickered.

  “Wolf wants Nana Kaye’s oatmeal. Now, pitch in, or you’re sleeping on the couch for the next month.” Cope’s top lip curled in a grimace.

  “Rude,” Jude grumped.

 

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