Moriah hadn’t known Jaci was due to arrive that weekend. She had been hiding, suffering, and while Jaci had been there, they had found a bond in their hatred of the Robertses. That, and a plan.

The Brockheims were old money, old morals, and old grudges. They were in their seventies, considered themselves hip and modern, and enjoyed their social lives to the utmost.

How Courtney had managed to acquire an invitation for Jaci to this party, Jaci wouldn’t know; but as she caught sight of her friends across the ballroom, Jaci had to admit it didn’t surprise her.

Courtney was dressed in figure-hugging sapphire silk. Her hair was piled atop her head, long strands falling from the top to flow over one shoulder.

Beside her, Ian and Chase were dressed in tuxedos, looking powerful and decidedly handsome, while Khalid—standing nearby—conversed with another guest.

As Jaci made her way across the ballroom, the dark red evening gown she wore swished over the toes of the expensive shoes that had been delivered with it. She had to admit, Cam had excellent taste in women’s clothes. Even the lacy panties and thigh-highs were silk, and fit perfectly. She felt like a carefully banked flame, and she knew that was the impression the evening gown gave.

“Oh, you are in so much trouble.” Courtney laughed as Jaci grew close, her brown eyes both wickedly amused and chiding. “Cam has called twice from the hotel. He swears you’re hiding in your room.”

She was aware of Chase drawing his cell phone from his pocket and putting it to his ear.

“Traitor,” she accused him lightly.

He was calling Cam, and she knew he was. Brotherly loyalty, no doubt. As he informed Cam she was now at the party, she had a feeling Chase was eagerly anticipating the fireworks.

“You are a dangerous woman,” he told her, his lips quirking at her daring, while he pushed the cell phone back into the inner pocket of his jacket. “He’s not happy with you right now.”

“I’ve not been happy with him all day.” She shrugged her bare shoulders, aware of Chase’s gaze slipping over the rounded tops of her breasts, revealed by the snug design of the dress.

Her back was bare to the top of her hips, where the skirt smoothed over her curves, snug and almost revealing. It was one of the most exquisite dresses she had ever worn. It was definitely one of the most expensive.

“Would you like to dance before he arrives?” Chase invited, glancing to the dance floor where the band had drawn several couples out to enjoy the slow, haunting music.

She smiled as she shook her head. “I think I’ll wait.”

“You might not get the chance to dance later.” Courtney laughed lightly. “Cam is going to be all about asserting that wonderful male dominance I’m certain he possesses.”

She kept her voice low enough that her words carried no farther than Jaci, but her laughter drew several admiring male gazes.

“Then I’ll just have to be all about asserting my own dominance,” Jaci informed her.

She was brave. She was courageous. She could stand against the Robertses and she could stand against Cam. It was all in the proper illusion of strength, she decided. She was all about illusion. She had carried the illusion of unconcern and restraint for almost seven years. Five years definitely, ever since the night the Robertses had nearly destroyed her.

Speaking of the devils—she caught a glimpse of Annalee Roberts from the corner of her eye. The woman’s falsely concerned expression as she talked to Margaret Brockheim was a warning in and of itself.

She knew the routine. She’d been asked to leave more than one party because of the Robertses. It was one of the reasons she had resisted attending this party.

“The rest of us should be taking notes,” Chase teased, distracting her. “I don’t think anyone has ever so blatantly defied Cam. He could be going into shock.”

Jaci rolled her eyes. “I think Cam is a bit more resilient than that.”

“I don’t know,” he mused. “That boy’s sense of humor hasn’t been right for a while now, but it was coming around. You could have caused a setback.”

Jaci’s lips pursed as she fought a smile. She glanced toward Margaret Brockheim, saw the frown that threatened her brow as Annalee moved away to join another of her cronies. The older woman’s expression was troubled now, her lined face heavy as she turned to her husband and daughter.

“Excuse me a moment,” Jaci said to Chase as she turned and moved the short distance to the Brockheims.

She had expected this. She had known Annalee would be quick to attempt to force the Brockheims to ask her to leave. And Annalee had complete confidence in her ability to frighten Moriah and force her to take her side in doing so. Oh, how the mighty would fall soon, Jaci thought.

“Moriah. Mr. and Mrs. Brockheim. I hope you’re still enjoying the cabin.” She extended her hand, seeing the surprise on their faces, the flicker of indecision before Margaret Brockheim took her hand, albeit weakly.

Mr. Brockheim’s handshake was firmer, and Moriah’s held an edge of anger. Her hazel eyes were blazing with ire, though her features, her expression, was perfectly composed.

“We’re glad you could make it, Ms. Wright.” Harold Brockheim nodded stiffly, his gaze flicking over her head. “And the cabin is wonderful, as always. We were just there last month.”

“Daddy loves the deck,” Moriah injected softly, her composure perfect. “Especially the hidden ashtray you incorporated for his cigars. Mother doesn’t fuss at him nearly as much now.”

Harold Brockheim’s enjoyment of his cigars on the back deck, his daughter had told Jaci, had been the cause of several disagreements between the couple. Incorporating the hidden smoker’s niche had been easy enough.

“The cabin is lovely, Ms. Wright.” Margaret smiled stiffly.

“You’re close friends with the Sinclairs, then? And the Falladay twins?” Moriah stepped around her parents, the soft, gold material of her evening gown swishing around her.

Her parents watched her worriedly, meeting each other’s gazes, as indecision seemed to shadow their eyes. They didn’t want their daughter’s perfect reputation smeared. Moriah was their only child, their pride and joy, from what Jaci understood.

“Courtney and I have been friends for years, and I’ve known Chase and Cam most of my life,” Jaci revealed.

Moriah’s gaze appeared curious now, her head tilting to the side, as the soft fall of sable hair slid over her pale shoulder. But Jaci could see the anger inside her—a hatred, a gleam of desperation that she knew was caused by the Robertses.

“Chase and Cam are good men,” Harold stated, as though daring anyone to refute the statement.

“They’re very good men.” Jaci smiled in return. “And they were quite determined that I attend your ball. I hope the last-minute invitation didn’t cause any problems.”

“Oh dear, of course not,” Margaret twittered nervously. “Courtney is a lovely young woman, and, why, Ian is almost family. I knew his parents quite well. We were so pleased you could attend.”

The social lie was smooth and gracious, but Margaret’s gaze was concerned. This was her ball, a social event that could turn around and slap her, if the wrong people were offended.

“Ms. Wright, I was just going to the buffet table for a small snack when you arrived.” Moriah smiled. “Would you like to walk over with me?” A graceful wave of her hand toward the connecting buffet room was followed by a nervous smile.

“Of course,” Jaci said. “I’d love to.”

She could feel Chase’s eyes boring into her as they moved off together. But it was the Brockheims who bothered her the most. They didn’t want their daughter in her company. They wanted her by their side, not making nice with the problem of the week, where gossip was concerned.

Unfortunately for them, Moriah had her own agenda. Especially where the Robertses were concerned.

“Richard is becoming more frightened, and spreading gossip about you more than ever.” Moriah lowered her head as she spoke, pretending to check her purse for a second as they moved through the crowd. “They’ll strike soon, Jaci.”

“And when they do, we’ll be ready for them.” Jaci shrugged.

“Annalee tried to order mother to make you leave.” A flare of anger lit the brown depths of Moriah’s gaze. “As though anyone can order my mother to do anything. But she upset her, and father isn’t pleased over that.”

“I’m sorry about that, Moriah,” Jaci said softly as they entered the buffet room. “I hate to be the cause of any problems for your family.”

“As though my parents haven’t dealt with their kind before.” Moriah’s voice took a decided snap as she led Jaci to a deserted corner of the room. “And I’m tired of waiting. We should make the first move. This has to end.”

“Enough, Moriah.” Jaci glanced around, making certain no one could overhear their conversation. “We have to have the evidence first. Until we acquire that, then we have nothing to back us up.”

Moriah’s lips thinned in anger, and she turned her back to the room to ensure no one could see the emotion on her face.

Moriah Brockheim was a completely different woman when there were no social rules in effect. She laughed and played practical jokes, she was prone to drink a little too much wine when with friends, and she knew how to keep their secrets, because she had a few of her own.

“They aren’t as careful, nor are they as smart as they used to be,” Moriah said as she turned and led Jaci from the buffet room. “Come on, let’s find Daddy’s office. He has a marvelous brandy in there. I think I could use a shot of it.”

The office was secluded, private. Moriah coded in the lock, then opened the door and ushered Jaci inside before locking it behind them.

“I hate these parties,” Moriah said, as she turned on a lamp and moved across the room, her dress brushing with a soft sigh against the hardwood floor. “Father always gets worried when I refuse to attend.”

She moved to the bar, poured the brandy, and then handed Jaci a glass.

“Annalee’s stories have been changing over the years,” she said then. “The woman is obviously losing it. Father became enraged tonight while she was demanding that you be ordered from the party. It seems, in addition to attempting to steal the money and seducing her husband, that you attempted to seduce her as well.” Moriah’s grimace of enraged distaste was painful to see. “As though that slut would need to be seduced.”

Moriah was a secret friend, one Jaci had made certain no one suspected she possessed. Moriah’s experience with the Robertses went back further than Jaci’s, and the scars from it went deeper. Neither of them could risk the Robertses knowing how close their association truly was.

“Moriah, you should have told your parents by now,” Jaci said.

Moriah sniffed at that. “Father would kill them. Mother would cry for months, and the scandal would be horrifying. But I want to see them destroyed, Jaci. I want it with a hunger that keeps me awake at night.” Her fist clenched at her side before she lifted the brandy glass and choked back the liquor in it.

She coughed after it went down, her face flushed, and a second later she seemed to gain the control she needed to breath out wearily.

“Have you told Cameron what happened?” Moriah asked.

Jaci shook her head. “You’ll know when Cam knows—everyone will know.”

“You’re going to have to do something about that bitch soon,” Moriah said. “She won’t stop.”

“I told you, it ends here.”

She and Moriah had talked several times after she had come to Alexandria, though they didn’t dare to meet outside the social arena that would bring them together.