by Gemma James
With downcast eyes, she nods.
“What did she have on you?”
Monica sucks in a deep breath, and five endless seconds later, she lets it out. “She was hired to seduce you.”
My heartbeat thumps in my ears, creating a painful rhythm I can’t ignore, and I try to make sense of her words.
I come up empty.
“Why?”
“I needed leverage.”
“Leverage for what?”
“Dad wants majority share of MontBlake.” She doesn’t look at me as she confesses, and it’s a good thing because I’m in a state of shock and mounting rage, and I’m sure my expression would send her deeper into a downward spiral.
“Your father was counting on the infidelity clause.” It’s not a question, but a statement as the pieces begin to form a picture that sickens me to my soul.
Her face bathed in misery, Monica nods. “Lydia was supposed to get you into bed, but you refused to hire her, then she got greedy and wanted more.”
“So she blackmailed you for money?”
“Yes.”
“There’s just one flaw in this plan,” I point out. “You cheated on me months ago. I have the photo to prove it.”
We lock gazes, and there’s no missing the apology in her eyes. “The photo is a fake. The only one who’s committed adultery in this marriage is you.”
I get up and turn my back on her, pulling deep breaths into my lungs. “What do you mean the photo is a fake? There’s not a goddamn thing that’s fake about you screwing another man in our bed.”
I’m clinging to the edge of a cliff, desperate to believe she’s lying, but every atom in my being tells me there’s honesty in her claim. She looks too goddamn sorry not to be telling the truth.
“It was a picture of you and me, Cash. I took it right after we were married. I just had it doctored to look like I was having an affair since I remodeled the bedroom. There isn’t anyone else, but I know you can’t say the same.”
I return to my chair and sink into it before my legs give out. “You had me followed?”
“My father did. If he doesn’t have proof already, he’ll get it. I was going to tell you everything, but it was too late. I couldn’t get a hold of you, then Lydia showed up wanting more money.”
“Why would you do this? Why would he do this?”
Our families have been close for decades, and no matter which way I look at it, I can’t figure out why her father would betray us like this.
“Your father and my mother have been having an affair. Dad found out last year right before they started talking about merging the companies. He saw it as a way to get revenge.”
“Why would you go along with it?”
Lips flattening into a stubborn line, she dips her head.
“What happens if you don’t get those shares, Monica?” My tone is harsh, demanding, and the question echoes through the room.
“Nothing,” she mutters.
“Bullshit.” I fist my hands, studying every angle of her face. “You’re a damn good actress, but I’ve become an expert at detecting when you spew lies. Tell me the goddamn truth.”
She blinks, and a tear glides down her cheek. “Remember when I went to Paris for a couple of years after high school?”
“What does that have to do with this?”
“I never told you, but Kaden and I were together for a while.”
“It was more than a while.” I lean forward, catching her gaze. “I already know you were fucking him before we got married.”
Her lips part in surprise. “Did he tell you?”
“You kissed him in the parking garage the day Lydia died. The police thought it was me.” I wave a hand in her direction. “Let’s get back to Paris.”
“My parents sent me there because I was pregnant.”
I rub a hand down my face. “Does Kade know?”
She shakes her head. “I gave the baby up for adoption. But he believes I miscarried.” She pauses long enough to swallow hard. “He was devastated. Kaden wanted the baby. He wanted me.”
“And you wanted him.”
She nods. “I still do.”
The admission that she’s still in love with my brother should hurt more, but it doesn’t. My head is spinning too much, struggling to process the fountain of information Monica just dumped on me.
Finally, after all of these months, I’ve got the truth, but it’s so twisted I can hardly believe it.
“You were scared Kaden would find out.”
“Dad threatened to tell him everything.”
“He has a right to know.”
“If he finds out…he’ll never forgive me, Cash.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I couldn’t risk it.”
“So you go to these lengths instead? Are you listening to yourself?”
“I was desperate!” She grunts, fighting the straps that hold her down. “Tell them to let me go. I can’t take this anymore.”
“You took a bottle of pills and washed it down with a fifth. You’re not getting out of those restraints until they decide you’re not a threat to yourself.” I won’t even bring up the fact that she’s been arrested with one ankle cuffed to the railing of the bed.
A sob bleeds off her lips, and she veers her head, allowing the mess of her dark curls to obscure her face. Even restrained to a bed, she manages to hide from me. “I can’t tell him about the baby.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
With a sniffle, she nods. “I know.”
“So what are we going to do about your father and those shares?” Just because I was unfaithful—and she wasn’t—doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and let the Blakes take what my family has worked so hard to build. “You set me up, Monica.”
She glances at me through her curls. “I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. I don’t know what to do.”
“You’re going to grant me a divorce and fix the mess you made. That’s what you’re going to do.”
“Let me tell Kaden first,” she pleads. “He should hear it from me.”
“Agreed.” Just then someone stalls in the doorway of her room. I turn and find my brother on the cusp, hesitant to come inside.
“I tried to stay away. I realize I’m the last person you want here right now,” he tells me, “but I had to see that she was okay for myself.”
“It’s okay.” I get up, make my way to Kaden, and grip his shoulder. “She has something she needs to tell you.”
22. Through the Cracks
Jules
Les finds me sitting near the front door, feet cut up, laminate flooring smeared with my blood. I’ve been too shaken to do much else but sit here and stare at the wall since the sliver of memory from that night bled through the cracks in my armor, reminiscent of the broken mirror at my feet.
“I came as soon as I got your text. What the hell happened?”
I’m still trembling, weak with shock as my heart thunders behind my breastbone. “Chris was here.”
Her expression is pure murder as she crouches in front me. “Did that motherfucker hurt you?”
I shake my head.
“Then why are you bleeding, Jules?”
“He was drunk. He cornered me, and I-I…I shoved him. The mirror broke.” I blink, then blink again, trying to get my mind to slow down long enough to make sense of everything that just happened. I meet her dark gaze. “He got Brit pregnant.”
“Holy shit.” She lowers to her haunches next to me, back against the wall. “Seriously?”
I nod. “He says he just found out last week. I don’t understand why he came back and proposed.” I glance at Les. “Why would he do that knowing he did something so…so…?”
“Unforgivable?”
“Yeah. Even if I wanted him back, I’m not sure I could forgive something like this.” I pause with a hard swallow. “But I also feel like I shouldn’t be so hurt over it either.”
“Of course you should be! Fo
rget the fact that Chris betrayed you, but your own sister? That’s low, even for Brit.”
“He was so angry when he found out about Perry, and yet this whole time he was screwing my sister.” I close my eyes, but every time I do, I can’t help but see Perry’s face. Swallowing a sob, I let out a shudder. I’m not ready to tell Les what I suspect my former boss of doing.
Part of me is still processing—not just the bombshell Chris dropped on me, but the one he triggered as well. I’m still trying to find a way to cope and focusing on Chris’ confession is easier than examining the glimpse I had of that night.
It’s less painful, which I guess says a lot about the state of my relationship with Chris before my supposed one-night stand with Perry tore it to pieces. The confession hurts, but it’s not threatening to destroy me the way the realization that Perry might have violated me is.
“Jules?”
I startle at the sound of Les’ voice. She’s sitting next to me, but for a few seconds, caught up in the memory of Perry’s labored breaths, of the horror swimming in that slice of memory, I’d forgotten I wasn’t alone.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Her brows furrow. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m just tired.” Needing a distraction, I rise to my feet, ignoring the pain in my heels, and begin picking up the bigger pieces of glass. Les grabs my arm, and I jump so violently that the pieces from the mirror drop to the floor again.
“Let me help.” She ushers me through my bedroom and into the bathroom, and I’m thankful for the lack of carpet in the apartment, as I’m tracking blood with each step.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell her as she urges me to sit on the lid of the toilet.
“It’s no big deal. Sit tight while I clean up.” She opens my medicine cabinet in search of antiseptic and gauze before setting them on the counter next to the toilet. As she cleans up the blood and glass in the other room, I pick out the small pieces that made their way into my feet. The antiseptic stings, but it’s nothing compared to the deep ache in my gut.
It’s been at least forty minutes since Chris left my apartment, but I’m still reeling from the encounter. My head is in a fog. Tears threaten my eyes but refuse to fall. I need to talk to someone about what I remembered, and Les is my best friend. She’ll listen and cry with me and offer to hunt Perry down to tear him limb from limb. But I can’t seem to find the words. The memory of that night is stuck in my throat.
She returns several minutes later. “Did you eat dinner yet?”
I shake my head, remembering the frozen meal that’s still in the microwave, untouched.
“I’m starving,” she says, pulling me off of the toilet. “How about we get out of here for a while and grab something to eat?”
“Okay.” I head into my bedroom and change out of my work skirt and into a pair of yoga pants. Wedging my feet into a pair of casual slip-ons, I glance at Les. “I need to text Cash and let him know I’ll be gone for a while. He said he’d come back tonight.”
I expect her to say something—some remark or comment showing her disapproval—but she doesn’t. That surprises me, and I’m speechless as we leave my apartment and take off down the road toward our favorite restaurant, hurrying through the misty rain. It’s our “spot,” the place we always go to for one-on-one girl time.
“Kaden has us playing at Club Shadow every weekend now,” she says after we’ve spanned three blocks in silence.
“That’s awesome. I’m sure the guys are excited.”
“Oh, they are. Still fighting like bulls though. Garen’s been drinking a lot lately. Zan isn’t happy about it.”
“Anything happen with Zan yet?” I ask.
“No.” The firm line of her mouth hints it’s not the answer she wishes to give. “Nothing can happen. Too much is at stake.”
“Sometimes you have to take a risk for love.”
“Like you did with your boss?” She gives me the side eye. “Aren’t you worried he’ll break your heart now that his wife has been found?”
“I was at first. But he loves me, Les. He wants to move in together as soon as possible once the divorce papers are filed.” We arrive at the restaurant and end up in our favorite booth. For a Wednesday, it’s packed, yet the din of conversation flows through the room, making it difficult to decipher any one thread. It makes me feel better about discussing my personal life with Les in such a public setting.
“I think it’s time I meet this guy,” she says, ignoring her menu since she usually opts for the same thing whenever we come here.
“Maybe we can get together for lunch one of these days.”
Les arches a dark brow. “Or you could invite him to your birthday party.”
I snap my menu shut. “What are you talking about?”
She feigns confusion. “Didn’t I tell you about the private party the band is throwing you at Club Shadow?”
“You know how I feel about parties.”
“Suck it up, Jules. The band wants to thank you for helping us with this gig. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to meet some new people, and you can introduce us to your new man.” She takes a sip of her water. “I’m assuming he’ll be familiar with the location, since his brother owns the place.”
My mind goes back to Chris with my sister, and I’m struck by the similarities between Cash and me. We’ve both been betrayed by our siblings. I can only hope that Cash will feel comfortable at his brother’s club, but I’m not about to go into their family issues with Les.
“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”
“Not even a little.”
I let out a sigh of resignation though part of me is warmed to my core that Les cares enough to want to celebrate my birthday. “Name the time. I’ll let Cash know.”
A huge grin spreads across her face. “I’ll text you the details.” She signals for the waitress. “Now that it’s settled, let’s get some food coming.”
23. Cut the Strings
Cash
I’m not looking forward to this conversation, but Jules is out having dinner with her friend, so I can’t use her as an excuse to put off this visit with my father. He isn’t going to like what I have to tell him. The estate is dark and quiet. I don’t know where Mom is, but I find my father alone in the study nursing a glass of bourbon.
“How’s your wife?” he asks, looking up from the latest issue of Forbes magazine.
“She’s awake.”
“Blackwell called me about an hour ago.”
“So you know about the murder charge?”
Taking a sip of his drink, he nods. “Your wife got herself into a load of trouble. I’ve called for an emergency meeting with the Board tomorrow.”
As I settle into the leather chair next to him, I grit my teeth. “You could have left it to me.” All the phone calls and scheduling of press conferences, and now this. He launched me to CEO last year, but when it comes down to it, he doesn’t trust me to do the job.
He waves away the objection. “You were busy clearing your head, remember?”
“Don’t use my personal life as an excuse to act like I’m a damn puppet. It’s getting old.”
“Then I suppose you won’t like that I called for a press conference as well.”
“I guess it’ll be as good a time as any to announce that Monica and I are divorcing.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh. “This idea of yours is getting exhausting, Cash. There is no way in hell I’ll allow you to risk the future of MontBlake. You’d better pray Monica is willing to look past your infidelity in trade for your support through the legal mess she made.”
“She’s already agreed to grant me a divorce. She also agreed to step down as Chairperson.”
His eyes go wide. “The Blakes won’t support it.”
“They won’t have a choice. Upon the divorce, our family will gain majority share of MontBlake.”
My father isn’t speechless often, but he’s gaping at me now, lips m
oving to form words.
“Get real, Cash. Ned will never allow the transfer of those shares.”
“He will if he wants to stay out of jail for extortion.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“He blackmailed Monica into plotting a takeover of the company. She’s willing to make this right, and considering what he did was illegal, I don’t see him putting up a fight.”
He gets up, drink in hand, and paces the study. “What did he have on her?”
“Did you know she was involved with Kaden?”
He finishes off the amber liquid in his glass, and the lack of shock on his face answers my question. “What does your brother have to do with this?”
“She was pregnant when she went to Paris. She gave their child up for adoption without telling him. Ned was going to tell Kade everything if Monica didn’t agree to his scheme to coup a takeover.”
With a harsh thump, Dad drops the empty tumbler onto a side table. “I knew he wanted to get his hands on the company, but I didn’t think he’d go this far.” He pauses, and his shrewd gaze lands on me. “What else did Monica disclose?”
“You mean did she tell me about your affair with Roni?”
A grunt accompanied by a furrow between his brows is his only answer.
“She told me everything.” I rise and stand face-to-face with him. “And now you’re going to tell Mom about the affair.”
“So quick to judge,” he scoffs. “What makes you think your mother doesn’t already know?”
“She knows?”
“We’ve been sleeping in separate bedrooms for years. I’m not the only one screwing other people.” He wanders over to the crystal decanter and pours me two fingers of bourbon. “We have an understanding. Your mother and I know what’s important.” He hands me the tumbler before reclaiming his seat by the fireplace where the glow of gas-lit logs cast the room in warm tones.
“The company,” I answer with a curl of my lip. “Always the goddamn company.” I move to take a sip then think twice about it. Jules has already been confronted with one drunken asshole tonight. I’m not about to add to the tab.
“Yes, the company, but also family, Cash. Your mother and I might not have the type of marriage you approve of, but we still respect each other.”