by Lilah Pace
Instead, Jonah tilts his head, his expression disbelieving. “You’d do that?”
“Come with you to Chicago? Of course I would. I mean, you came here with me. ”
“It’s not the same thing. This is going to be—so much worse. ”
I try to envision what my life would’ve been like if Anthony had controlled my entire childhood. If he now possessed enough money and power to essentially hold my entire family hostage. Carter Hale has done that, has targeted Jonah and his siblings their whole lives. When I show up in Chicago by Jonah’s side, I’ll essentially be joining him in the center of the bull’s-eye.
“That doesn’t matter,” I say. “Your battles are my battles, Jonah. I go where you go. ”
He pulls me close, a swift desperate movement, as if I were about to be torn away from him instead of sitting beside him in the front seat of the car. Rain has begun to patter down on the windshield. Christmas is being washed away.
“Thank you. ” That’s all Jonah says. Just from the way he speaks the words, I know people haven’t come through for him very often. I doubt he’s given them the chance as an adult. He grew up being betrayed by the people who were supposed to love him the most, time after time, night after night.
Jonah doesn’t yet believe someone could stand by him no matter what. I’d say that was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen—if I hadn’t felt that way too, before Jonah.
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Maybe we can make each other believe.
Twelve
Holy crap, Chicago is cold.
It’s not as if I didn’t know it would be. Like everyone else, I’ve seen countless Weather Channel updates on the city being buried knee-deep in snow. Flying at Christmastime has taught me that if O’Hare gets closed for winter storms, the entire nation’s air traffic becomes paralyzed. Yesterday we drove to the Canal Place mall, where I fought my way through postholiday bargain hunters in order to nab a long white puffy coat, lined snow boots and red leather gloves, all items of clothing rarely required in Texas or Louisiana. So I thought I was prepared.
Nope.
The chill bites into your flesh, gnaws your bones. Even after Jonah and I dash from the taxi into the sumptuous lobby of the Drake Hotel, I continue shivering until we’re in our room. Immediately I grab the ornamental half blanket on the bottom of the bed and wrap it around my shoulders as a makeshift shawl. Jonah cracks a smile for the first time today. “Hothouse flower. ”
“Okay, buddy, come to New Orleans in July, and we’ll see how fast you wilt. ”
“I’ve survived Texas in summer. I think I can handle New Orleans. ”
“Maybe. ” They all say that until they discover the humidity never goes below eighty-five percent.
The smile fades from his face almost instantly. “I only have an hour and a half until the meeting. We should get settled in. ”
“Meeting? Today?” He hasn’t said a word about it.
Jonah doesn’t look up as he begins unpacking with near-military efficiency. I wonder if this is a habit he’s picked up through years of traveling for work, or whether this is just his way. “I e-mailed the lawyer I spoke to and told him I intended to have a conference with him today at four P. M. , regarding his duty of confidentiality to me as a client. He knows he fucked up; more than that, he knows he could get sued or disbarred. So when he said he could make the meeting, I wasn’t surprised. ”
I wonder if the lawyer had to cancel a ski trip or something because of this. It would be the least he deserved for betraying Jonah.
“Is that all there is to it?” I ask. When Jonah looks up from his suitcase, I say, “You’re tense. Way more tense than you would be if you were just going to take this guy down. ”
“That might be all there is to it—but it could get more complicated. ”
Before I can even ask how, I know the answer. “Carter’s going to be there. ”
“Possibly. Probably. This lawyer could’ve tipped him off. Or if the leak was someone else within the firm, they might have told Carter instead. And at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if my son of a bitch stepfather were having me followed. ” Jonah’s jaw tenses, his frustration and anger boiling just beneath the surface. “I give him a seventy-five percent chance of showing up. ”
“What about your mother?”
“She’s currently ‘regaining her mental stability. ’ Which for most people would mean actually obtaining psychological help. In this case? It means Carter sweet-talked her into another reconciliation and packed her off to a spa in Arizona. ” He sighs heavily. “We don’t have to worry about her, at least. Just Carter. But that’s enough. ”
I take a deep breath. “Okay. We’ll be ready. ”
“You don’t have to come to this meeting. ”
“Do you think I flew all the way up here to sit in this hotel room? No way. I told you—where you go, I go. ”
Jonah takes a step toward me, and I see how concerned he is. As if I were the one about to face my worst enemy. “It’s going to get rough. ”
“I can handle rough. You should know. ”
• • •
Chicago isn’t a city you often hear described as beautiful—but it is, with a downtown as spectacular as any I’ve ever seen. With the river winding its way through the heart of the city, you get an astonishing view of the skyscrapers that line every one of the broad streets. And each building seems to be more awe-inspiring than the last, whether they’re century-old structures made of white stone or asymmetrical buildings of metal and glass that look more like something from a sci-fi novel.
“When you’re a kid growing up and you hear about the big city, this is what you imagine it looking like,” I say to Jonah in the back of the cab. “Not like New York, where everything’s piled up on top of you so you can hardly see. Like this. ”
Jonah shakes his head, but fondly. “Chicago has its moments. ”
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Snow continues to come down, endless fat flakes that show no sign of stopping. Piles a couple feet deep line the sidewalks. Yet the streets are totally clear, no doubt thanks to salt trucks like the one I saw rattle by a few minutes ago. People trundle along the streets bundled in their thick coats and mufflers like the Michelin Man. The surface of the river has a dull quality—not frozen over, but slushy, threatening to turn. Yet it remains beautiful in its stark way.
The building we walk into is as imposing inside as out. Black granite lines the floors and walls; large silver letters on the wall spell out the name of the law firm . . . and the Hale Hotels Group LLC, and Oceanic Airlines. All of this belongs to Carter Hale and the Marks family. Every story, every stone.
On duty is a tired security guard, who perks up considerably when she sees Jonah’s ID. We pass through a sleek metal turnstile before finding the walls of elevator banks, each one handling twenty stories. At first I’m slightly disappointed we’re headed to a lower floor: Looking at a view would help me maintain my calm during the confrontation to come. Seeing a whole city splayed beneath you gives you perspective. Then I realize that of course the lawyers have to take the bottom of the building. They’re only here to serve the more important businesses above. And I’d bet anything Carter Hale has nabbed himself an office on the top floor.
Jonah remains silent. But if the lawyers think that means he’s unsure, they’re in for a shock. I know this expression; it’s the dark sky before the storm.
It doesn’t upset me that he seems to have withdrawn. He needs to focus on his enemies, and I’m here because he can take my support for granted. As the red letters above the elevator doors go higher, however, Jonah takes my hand. I squeeze his fingers tightly, a reminder to stay calm—not to let Carter get to him too much.
We’re met at the elevators by a secretary in a suit sleeker than any I’ve ever owned. Jonah and I are only in sweaters and jeans. She takes our bulky coats with the same care she’d use with a floor-length mink, then ushers us down a long corridor and into a m
eeting room, where four people await us.
Three are anonymous lawyers. One is Carter Maddox Hale.
“No dramatic entrance this time?” Jonah says. “You’re losing your touch, Carter. ”
“We can discuss my losses some other time,” Carter replies smoothly. “Today we’re discussing yours. ”
Carter’s face is familiar to me from CNN and the occasional Web page. His hair has mostly turned gray, but is still shot through with blond. The man’s brilliant blue eyes are so arresting they disguise the wrinkles on his face, at least at first glimpse. If I didn’t know what kind of monster he really is, I might think he’d been handsome when he was younger. Instead he turns my stomach.
Jonah takes the chair at the other end of the table, a full seven feet away from the others. I remain at his side.
Carter notices. “I’m going to assume you haven’t hired outside counsel. This must be your . . . assistant. ” He pronounces the word as if it were a euphemism for personal escort.
“My name is Vivienne Charles,” I say. “I’m a witness. ”
Witness to what, I don’t know, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. Weirdly enough, that proves effective; a couple of the lawyers straighten, apparently convinced Jonah’s about to deploy some legal gambit they hadn’t anticipated.
Jonah gives me a look; he was ready to defend me. But he doesn’t need to waste any emotional energy on my account. If he lets Carter begin baiting him this early, this confrontation will go downhill fast. Besides, I don’t give a shit what Carter Hale thinks of me.
Maybe Jonah understands this. He turns his attention back to Carter, his tone as hard as steel. “You want to meet with the board of trustees and argue that I should be removed as a beneficiary. It’s not going to work. ”
“You’re committing a string of felonies,” Carter shoots back. “That’s more than enough to trigger the morality clause—”
“First, I haven’t been convicted of any crime. Second, I haven’t even been arrested. If your legal eagles are worth the thousands they’re charging you each hour, they’ve told you that both of those things have to happen before you’ve got a chance in hell. ” Jonah smiles, thin and joyless. “Third, if you think I’m going to listen to any lectures on morality from you, think again. ”
Carter isn’t fazed. “You haven’t been convicted or arrested. But you’ve been questioned, haven’t you?”
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“Which you only know because somebody at this law firm committed a serious breach of professional ethics,” Jonah says, briefly turning his attention to the suit-and-tie brigade at the table. “Hope you guys are getting paid enough to retire on. Because a lot of you are about to get disbarred. ”
One of the lawyers hurriedly adds, “The associate responsible has already been fired. ”
Happy holidays, scapegoat.
“But you’re acting on his information, and you think that’s acceptable?” Jonah laughs. “I doubt the bar association will see it that way. ”
Carter leans forward, folding his hands on the table. His confidence is all too clear. “You can’t file a complaint without detailing the violation. Which means you’d publicly declare yourself a suspect in a series of rapes. I wouldn’t be in such a hurry, if I were you. ”
“I never said I was in a hurry,” Jonah shoots back. “I’m innocent. The police will clear me sooner or later, probably sooner. But it doesn’t matter. I can wait. ”
Carter sighs, his expression mock sympathetic. “Innocent until proven guilty. Of course. ”
“Innocent,” I say. “I’m not only the witness; I’m also the alibi. ”
A couple of the lawyers exchange glances; they’re evaluating my trustworthiness, the strength or weakness of the case against Jonah they’d been told to build. Their doubt doesn’t affect Carter in the slightest. His smile only broadens.
“Vivienne seems like a good woman,” Carter says to Jonah, like I’m not even in the room. “Good women are loyal to their men. They’ll stand behind them forever. Lie if they’re told to lie. We both know that, don’t we?”
My gut drops. The son of a bitch is throwing it in Jonah’s face—the knowledge that he’s raped Jonah’s mother literally hundreds of time and will never get called on it.
Jonah sits up straighter in his chair; he’s gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles are white. I put one hand on his arm, half comfort, half warning. Because if he loses his shit completely in front of the lawyers, they’re going to start thinking of him as guilty for sure and this nightmare will only worsen.
“I’m not lying,” I interject, before Jonah can speak. “The evidence will prove that. ”
Once again, Carter ignores me.
His laser-intense focus remains only on Jonah. This guy knows all the buttons to push. “I’m not judging you as harshly as you might think. Men have certain instincts, don’t they? But that’s why we have to learn self-control. A mature man waits for the right time. For his own wife. ”
Jonah’s eyes blaze, and he gets to his feet. Oh, fuck, I think. I tighten my grip on his arm. It’s not to hold him back, just to remind him of who he really is: his own man, his own creation, not Carter Hale’s. Maybe it works, because Jonah pauses before saying . . .
Whatever it is he would’ve said. I never find out, because Carter finally looks at me and smiles. He speaks to Jonah again: “They’ll say anything once you have them in line, won’t they?”
Shame flushes through me so fast and paralyzing that it’s like venom injected into my veins. Carter knows. He knows what Jonah and I do together, though in his mind he must have twisted it into a grotesque mockery of our mutual games. This man doesn’t believe in consent. He thinks I’m Jonah’s plaything, his servant. Nothing more.
“You son of a bitch,” Jonah growls, and I brace myself for what’s to come.
But the door bangs open, startling everyone. I turn to see a man a couple of years older than me, as impeccably dressed as any of the lawyers, snow still dusting his camel hair coat and wavy blond hair. My first strange thought is, Where have I seen him before? Behind him, panting, is the secretary who showed us in; her calm is blown. “I tried to stop him—”
“It’s not your fault, Yvonne,” the newcomer says. His broad, seemingly carefree smile is at odds with his undeniable intensity. “Nobody was going to keep me away if Jonah’s in trouble. ”
Which is when it hits me that I’ve seen the shadow of this man in Carter’s face. This meeting just got crashed by Maddox Hale—Jonah’s stepbrother, and Carter’s son.
Thirteen
“Mad. ” Jonah’s voice is heavy. “I’m not in trouble. ”
“Nor are you, Maddox,” Carter cuts in. The sharpness in his voice could cut new facets in a diamond. “I realize you felt a . . . sentimental need to inform your stepbrother of this. I won’t hold it against you. But this is no longer your concern. ”
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Maddox pays no attention to either of them. “If you’re trying to rob my brother and pretending it’s on my behalf? It’s my concern. ”
Carter must have thought he could buy Maddox’s silence by promising him Oceanic Airlines as his inheritance. But it looks like he doesn’t know his own son. Although it would be good to see the shock and anger on Carter’s face, I can’t bring myself to look at him. My cheeks are still flushed hot with the revelation that Carter thinks he has figured out something of what Jonah and I are to each other.
That knowledge appears so ugly when I see it through his eyes.
One of the lawyers wants to earn his exorbitant fee, because he clears his throat. “Gentlemen. If we could get back to business—business which I believe does not directly concern the younger Mr. Hale—”
“There’s no business here,” Maddox says. “What, are you planning on shaking Jonah down for something he didn’t do? Or threatening to expose him? Because the last time I checked, that was extortion. ” His smile broadens. “Extortion carries jai
l time, doesn’t it? Please, I’d love to hear legal opinions on the subject. ”
I thought Jonah was nearly as stubborn as a man could get, but it looks like his stepbrother can hold his own. In this family, he’d have to.
The most nervous lawyer says, “No one here has committed or threatened extortion. ”
“Far from it. ” Carter has regained his aplomb. I can tell that he’s angry with his son, just like I can tell Maddox doesn’t give a shit whether his dad’s angry or not. But the man remains focused on his target: Jonah, or everything Jonah owns that Carter desires. “In fact, I hope to make Jonah a very generous offer. One he should consider carefully. ”
“An offer?” Jonah has regained some measure of calm—enough, anyway. He’s pulling strength from me and from Maddox; we’ve got his back. “You don’t have anything I want. Nothing you’re going to give me, at any rate. ”
Carter actually seems surprised. Yet he continues, “If you’re forced out of the Marks trust, Jonah, you’ll get nothing. Not one dime. ”
Like Jonah cares about money. Today, however, I’m realizing Jonah does care about his pride—at least, when it comes to his wicked stepfather—and that’s one of the weak spots Carter’s going after, like a shark scenting blood.
“But I have an alternative for you, Jonah. A buyout offer. ” Carter looks pleased with himself. “You can accept a buyout with the executor’s approval, and I think we both know your mother would sign on the dotted line as soon as we asked her. ”
One of the lawyers slides a deal memo across the broad table toward us. Jonah makes no move for it, so I pick it up. Maddox leans over my shoulder as we look at the sums offered, and the long string of zeroes involved.
Maddox says, “This isn’t one-quarter of what Jonah’s share is worth, and you know it. ”
“It’s more than nothing, which is what he’ll get if he’s thrown out. ” Carter smiles, and it’s the exact same expression I’ve seen on the cover of Forbes magazine. It’s his mask, the one he wears to conceal the vicious snake within. “This is a sum of money that would support anyone very comfortably for the rest of his life, given a few prudent investments. Given the inevitable conclusion of this sordid affair, I think my offer is probably far beyond Jonah’s expectations. And for all your protestations, you were expecting this, weren’t you, Jonah? Otherwise, why would you be here in the first place?”