There Can Only Be Six Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Andrea Levesque

  All rights reserved. Published by White Willow Press INC. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system - except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper - without written permission from the publisher. For information address White Willow Press INC. 265 Sunrise Hwy. Ste. 1-275, Rockville Centre, NY 11570.

  ISBN 978-1-955208-09-3

  Summary: When Harper Fontaine is forced to leave behind her life in NYC and move into her dad’s multi-million-dollar mansion in a wealthy seaside town, she is quickly recruited into a dangerous secret society known as “The Order of the Six”.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places is wholly imaginary and are not to be construed as real.

  For my father, who first introduced me to the art of storytelling, only to be lost to life’s greatest mystery - death. In your loss, I found writing. Thank you for helping me to realize my passion.

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  Salt stung my senses as my consciousness danced somewhere between being awake and asleep. But I wasn't asleep, not really. I was drugged. And I was in a boat. I knew this, despite the weight of my body and the blissful call of darkness, beckoning me to let go. But I didn’t. Not all the way, at least. I willed myself to sense the rocking of the boat against the waves, to feel the tiny splashes of water against my face. I’d lost control of myself, my limbs lolling and eyelids heavy, but I could still hear. I would bide my time until my strength came back. And I would find out who kidnapped me.

  Male voices shouted over the sounds of the ocean. I tipped my head in their direction, determined to pick up on something that could help me find a way out of this. “Doesn’t matter if the others get out eventually.” One guy said. “She’s the one they want. Therefore, she’s the biggest threat.”

  “Won’t they come looking for her?” Another male voice said from the other end of the boat. Something was wrong with their voices. My mind pushed through the grogginess, grasping for answers. They were muffled, I realized. The men were wearing something on their faces.

  The first guy laughed, a chilling, cold sound. “Yeah, but by the time they do, it’ll be too late. That’s the point.”

  Too late? What the hell did that mean? My heart rate, which was much too slow from the sedative, skipped a beat. I attempted to roll over, suddenly overcome with desperation. I’d been hoping to get some momentum, but my endeavor was not rewarded. All it did was attract attention, drawing footsteps near me from a third man. His voice rang out above me.

  “Shouldn’t we wrap her up?” This voice was higher pitched than the others, causing something to nag at me about their voices, though I didn’t quite recognize any of them.

  My eyelids fluttered, and I felt hands lift me, then set me back down again. Thick wool was now swaddled against my body, and though it kept me from moving any further, I relished the relief it gave me from the cold. We were on a boat to God knows where in the middle of the night, and it was beyond freezing. Terror mixed with lethargy, and despite my protests, I started drifting off again. I had one final thought before blackness swallowed me whole.

  I made the wrong choice.

  ONE

  My fingers traced the metal edges of my grandfather’s old lighter, the familiar gesture taking my mind off the fact that I was sitting in an outrageously expensive SUV forcing small talk with a complete stranger. The word “FONTAINE” materialized beneath my touch as my fingers met the engraving on the cold surface. I wished once again that my grandfather was still alive to make my prompt move back to Rhode Island feel more like a homecoming.

  “So, Harper,” the boy in the driver’s seat said, looking back at me, “have you ever been to Newport in the winter, or is this your first time? Since you were a kid, I mean.”

  Well, he wasn't a boy, exactly. He was definitely my age. Objectively speaking, he probably had all the girls in this ritzy town crawling at his feet, based on his angular face and the way his shoulders turned out into a perfect V shape.

  I was quiet for a couple of minutes, working up the energy to answer this guy.

  “Um, yeah, a couple of times,” I said.

  “Oh, well, your dad said you usually spend the summers, but there’s definitely some amazing stuff to do around here during the holidays too. The Cunninghams have their annual Christmas party coming up. I hope you’re planning to attend; it’s the biggest social event of the season.” The boy smiled back at me, and I noticed an even set of well-placed teeth forming what could only be described as a heart-melting grin.

  Great. I thought. That absolutely sounds like the kind of thing I don’t want to be a part of. “Sure,” I said, flipping the lighter top up and down, making a soothing clicking sound.

  “Is that what got you into all this trouble?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

  I bit the inside of my cheek and looked down at the lighter. “There’s no lighter fluid in here,” I answered. After a moment, I continued. “This was my grandfathers’. I kind of… collect things. It’s sort of a hobby.”

  Hoping to steer the conversation away from my personal life, I slipped the ancient lighter into my coat pocket. God, this guy was chatty. Yes, he was nice, but when my dad said he’d send someone to pick me up at the airport, I figured it would be an Uber with a pleasantly silent driver. I kept forgetting that things didn’t work the same in Newport as they did in the Upper East Side.

  Where my mom and I often walked or took ride-hailing apps to get around, people like my dad had drivers and fancy cars of their own. I had recognized my father’s Cadillac immediately, the pink dice in the window his attempt at making driving lessons more appealing a few years ago. It was cute, but I’d failed regardless. I was a city girl, and city girls didn’t drive. I sighed. I’d rather my dad just come to get me, but apparently, he didn’t have the time. Not that this surprised me, of course.

  I pressed my forehead to the window and watched the light dusting of snow stretch from one end of the street to the other, filled with local shops and barren trees that would become lush and green when the weather warmed and the ice melted away. Tourist shops intermingled with local boutiques on either side of me, selling everything from wooden toys and Christmas decorations to wool coats with a hefty price tag. I was struck by the New England feel of it all. And from the looks of it, we were almost at my dad’s house. I mean, my dad’s mansion. Or, as my mom had been encouraging me to call it, home.

  I thought about the last time I’d called it that. I’d only be six years old then, and most of my memories were a distant haze. My eyes closed as I pulled at a foggy memory, sitting somewhere far away in my mind. I could see my house, sitting in the middle of six impressive mansions decorating a beachside cliff. We looked down at them across the ocean as if from the sky. The windows lit up like fireflies as the sun abandoned the horizon, making way to twilight.

  “All of this is yours.” He’d said to me,
a mischievous grin playing at his lips, hidden partially beneath a white mustache. Though the entire recollection felt more like a dream, I could still feel the pride swell inside me at his words, though they didn't make much sense to me now.

  The boy’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “I know Wellsley Prep will probably be a big change for you. It’s definitely an intense school.”

  “Fantastic,” I mumbled under my breath. His green eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, and he chuckled. Oops, I didn't mean to say that out loud.

  “I just mean, if you need any help, just let me know. Second semester junior year is an odd time to transfer. I know your dad is keen on getting you settled in since you only have a few weeks of winter break.” I tilted my head, examining him. He was obviously flirting, but he didn’t come off with the same ego as some of the boys I went to school with. The small talk had been annoying at best, but his intentions were good.

  I offered up a small smile. “Sure.” I said, “That would be nice.”

  The SUV turned into the familiar semi-circle driveway and came to a stop in front of a large, U-shaped two-story home painted a stark white. Large windows were trimmed with black metal window railings, the elegant yet totally unnecessary gate-like structure making the house appear as luxurious on the outside as it would on the inside. Grand-looking shrubs were placed strategically around the front of the mansion, no doubt picked out by the gardener whose work around here was never done. I had to crane my neck to see a few other details on the house, the porthole windows on either side and the roof’s deep gray shingles certainly befitting an oceanside home.

  Cozy, I thought sarcastically to myself, then reached for my lighter again and smoothed my hands over it. Before I could open the car door, the boy was pulling it open for me, then offered me his hand.

  “Oh,” I said, grabbing my designer backpack from the seat next to me. “Thanks.” I took his hand and let him help me out of the car, even though I didn’t need it. His touch was warm on this chilly day, and it sent little pangs of nerves up my arm. I released him and stood there awkwardly.

  The boy reached up and ran his hand through his blonde hair, contrasting somewhat with his naturally tan skin. It suddenly occurred to me how well dressed he was for a driver. His grey peacoat had to be more expensive than my winter jacket, and I was certain his shoes were Ferragamo. How well did my dad pay this guy? I glanced at my new home, the multi-million-dollar manor gleaming against the snow.

  “I guess I should give you my number, just in case you need something and your dad isn’t around.” He said. I nodded and handed him my phone.

  As he typed his number in, I stretched my fingers, pricking with the cold. Hoping to move this whole thing along, I headed towards the trunk of the car to grab my suitcase. I popped open the trunk and started pulling on the massive bag. Before I could manage to move it an inch, the boy scrambled over to me to help.

  “Oh, no, no,” he said casually. “Let me help you.” I frowned. I wasn't used to having my own staff. Sure, my mom and I lived well, but not that well. The driver pulled on the handle with one hand and, when it didn’t budge, he slipped my phone in his pocket then used both hands to drag the suitcase out and onto the ground with a thud.

  “Cool,” he said. “This is all your stuff?” He asked, and I bit my lip.

  “Yeah, my mom bought me this bag. I normally don’t need so much stuff, but I figured it would be easier than having absolutely everything shipped.” I kicked the white gravel with my combat boots, its own white leather matching the stones.

  He laughed, and my eyes shot up at him. His grin was so wide it practically hit both of his ears. “I actually meant… is that all your stuff, not, is that all your stuff?” His smile was contagious, and for the first time in the last couple of hours, I actually smiled back. “You’re not like the girls around here, are you?”

  I rolled my eyes. Oh god, not the “you’re not like other girls” speech. I laughed, then my face fell, his meaning hitting deeper than he’d intended. I’m not like the girls back home either.

  “Don’t worry, as I said, my mom is shipping stuff. A lot of stuff.” I added, not knowing if that last part was entirely true.

  “You want me to bring that in for you?” He asked, nodding to my bag.

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Still smiling, he started walking backward down the expansive driveway, his hands in his pant pockets. “Well, if you need any help unpacking, I’m not very good at it, but I’m here to help.” His hand went to his head in a salute as he turned on his heel and walked off, his own boots making crunching sounds with every step.

  I gaped. I glanced towards the giant SUV, then to him. Back home, walking everywhere was normal, but it struck me as odd he’d go anywhere on foot around here.

  Feeling kind of bad for him after he’d been so nice to me, I ran after him. I didn’t feel comfortable driving my dad’s car, but maybe I could find some way to get this guy his own ride home. Did my dad really expect him to walk? Was there a secret guest house for staff nearby I’d forgotten about?

  “Wait!” I said, stopping a few feet behind him. He turned around, eyebrows raised.

  I caught my breath and formulated my question. “Uh, where are you going?”

  “Next door?” He answered like maybe I should have known that. My gaze trailed off to the even larger villa beyond the sprawling greenery between our properties, far enough away that I often forgot about it but close enough that this guy could probably walk there.

  He must have noticed the blank look on my face despite my every attempt to conceal it because he laughed once again and offered me his hand. “Adan? Your neighbor?”

  My mouth hanging open, I clumsily shook his hand. I had the good sense to look embarrassed and tried to recall if he’d said any of this when he picked me up. To be fair, I’d been having a supremely awful day - I mean, who likes airports? - and if he had indicated to me that he was someone other than a glorified Uber driver, I’d obviously missed it.

  I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and closed my eyes. “I’m sorry.” I said, “I didn’t realize you live next door.”

  “No worries.” He said. Probably realizing how painfully awkward I felt, he was kind enough to turn back around with a final wave and head off.

  I slapped my hand to my forehead, annoyed I’d already started off here on a weird note. If I was stuck in this town for another year and a half, I really had to do better. I meandered back to the car, feet kicking up dirt as I went, and I tried not to sulk as I pulled my oversized Louis Vuitton luggage inside.

  “Dad?” I yelled as loud as I could, the sound bouncing off the shiny surfaces covering the open concept rooms. Because, here, you couldn’t get away with a normal shout if you wanted to get someone’s attention as you could at my mother’s house. Sure, our loft was large and glamorous, but compared to this, it was a shack.

  “Dad!” I yelled again, walking to the base of the mile-long staircase curving up to the second floor. I figured he wouldn’t be back yet, but I thought I’d check just in case he had the decency to greet his daughter on her first day under his custody.

  I headed into the kitchen and noticed a note placed neatly on the granite island in the center of the room. A pang of familiarity hit me, the routine of coming home to an empty house reminding me that I wasn't leaving much behind in New York. Not that I wouldn’t miss my mom. I knew she loved me, after all. But it was hard to miss someone who spent all their time engaged in the social scene for New York’s most privileged, something I’d made clear wasn't for me. And yet, here I was in Newport, a playground for the ridiculously wealthy. Ironic, wasn't it, that I’d now have an even harder time escaping all that.

  I picked up the note and held it to the light, a frown tugging at one side of my lips.

  The Chef left dinner in the fridge. It’s spaghetti, your favorite. I’ll be home after dinner, so eat without me. I hope you an
d Adan got along well. He’s a good kid. I know this is going to be a hard transition, but it’ll be good for you. Shoot me a text if you need anything.

  Love, Dad

  Seeing Adan’s name made me cringe, and I felt stupid all over again. I huffed and reached for my phone to text my dad, planning to chide him for not warning me about the driver situation. My hands dipped into empty pockets.

  “Shit.” I thought. “My phone.” The image of Adan slipping my cellphone into his own pocket popped into my mind. I groaned. “No! Why can’t anything go my way today!” I kicked the side of the kitchen counter and took a deep breath. “Nina’s going to be pissed if I don’t call her soon.”

  In the five whole minutes it took me to get to the other end of the house, I wondered if Adan would notice he still had my phone.

  I stepped out onto the balcony and soaked up the most brilliant view I’d probably ever seen. What should be our back yard was replaced with a semi-steep cliff hanging over a private beach, shared only by the five other mansions on this strip of land. I leaned over the railing and pulled my puffer jacket tighter around me, the ocean breeze dropping the temperature ten degrees lower than what I was used to in the winter.

  From this angle, I could see Adan’s house. The driveway was filled with fancy cars, and I wondered if they were all his, his parents, or if he had visitors. I would bet money the neighbors also housed a large garage somewhere with even more cars. Nope, this guy did not work for my dad.

  When the sky blossomed into a mesh of pinks and purples, and it was becoming apparent that Adan wasn't going to come back over here, I sucked it up and trekked the path to his house. By the time I made it to the front door, darkness was starting to cloud up the sky. I rang the doorbell and waited, only to be greeted a few minutes later by a middle-aged woman in khakis and a collared shirt.

  “Hi dear, how can I help you?” She said, a sweet smile falling across her cheeks.