Betrayal (Infidelity Book 1) - Aleatha Romig

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The Infidelity series contains adult content and is intended for mature audiences. While the use of overly descriptive language is infrequent, the subject matter is targeted at readers over the age of eighteen.

Infidelity is a five-book series. The series is a dark romance. Each individual book will end in a way that will hopefully make you want more.

The Infidelity series does not advocate or glorify cheating. This series is about the inner struggle of compromising your beliefs for your heart. It is about cheating on yourself, not someone else.

I hope you enjoy the epic tale of INFIDELITY!

To every one of you who has purchased my books and given me the even more valuable commodity of your time, thank you! You have allowed me to share the make-believe people who wake me at night and talk to me during the day. To each one of you, I’m grateful.

I hope you enjoy the new world of Infidelity!

To my agent, Danielle Egan-Miller, my publicist, Danielle Sanchez with Inkslinger, my editor Lisa Aurello, my formatter Angela McLaurin, and my cover artist Kelly Dennis, thank you for your patience and constant encouragement and support. If it were not for each of you, the world of Nox and Charli wouldn’t have come to life.

To my wonderful family, Mr. Jeff and our children, thank you for indulging my passion. I love you more than life itself.

To my author friends, I learn from you every day. Your support and encouragement is a daily blessing. This community is amazing and I’m honored to be a part of it.

To the wonderful bloggers who found me either through Tony, Victoria, or Nox, I thank each of you for every mention. I know that if it were not for you, no one would know my name.

I hope you all enjoy!

THE GIANT OAK trees parted, giving way to the flood of sunlight. If it weren’t for my sunglasses and the tinted windows, the saturation would be blinding. The effect was undoubtedly the intention of the designers and architects when they mapped out the plantation centuries ago. The shadowed lane—quiet, secluded, and draped in Spanish moss—was a prelude to the crescendo of Georgia blue sky spotlighting the splendor of the manor. Each inch up the cobblestone drive tightened the muscles in my neck and back, reminding me of the appropriate posture for a Montague.

No matter how many times I told myself that I was no longer the child trapped within the iron gates or that I was a competent woman who’d recently graduated summa cum laude, the little girl’s voice inside of me repeated the mantra I’ve known since the beginning of time: some things never change. The closer we got to the giant house, the more I tensed, my years of separation slipping away as my confidence threatened to dissolve.

The original structure had burnt in the late 1800’s. According to family lore, though it was considered stately in its heyday, by current standards the original home would barely suffice for a guesthouse. The current Montague Manor was now one of the most admired mansions in the Deep South. Where others saw beauty, I saw a prison and loss of innocence.

Willing my jaw to unclench, I reminded myself again that this was only a visit—temporary at that. It had been almost four years since I’d graced Montague Manor with my presence, and if it hadn’t been for my mother’s invitation—correction, summons—I wouldn’t be here now.

“Miss Collins?”

Lost in my own thoughts and memories, I’d missed the stopping of the car and the opening of the door. Turning toward the sound of my name, I saw, framed in sunlight with his hand extended, my stepfather’s driver, Brantley Peterson. The older gentleman had worked for my family for as long as I could remember. Though I barely recalled a time before my mother married Alton, I knew from stories that Brantley had been here then too. He’d worked for my father just as his father had worked for my grandfather, Charles Montague II.

“Miss Alexandria?” he said. “Your parents are