by Fallon Hart
Whatever my boss heard in my voice, for once in her life, she decided not to pry.
◆◆◆
Griffin
It had been weeks. Weeks since I’d allowed myself to go anywhere near the white and blue guest suite Scarlett had kept her things in. I had no idea what Xavier had done with all the clothes and jewelry my wife had returned to me until now as I stood in the doorway to the room.
He’d put everything back in here. As though one day she might return.
Her jewelry and perfume were on the dresser. Clothes hung up in the walk-in closet. Traces of her scent still lingered in the air. It was like the room belonged to a ghost.
The phone call I’d just taken had for some reason propelled me along the hallway to this room. I could see her everywhere in it. Smiling up at me from a tangle of bedsheets, eyes filled with laughter and heat.
I shuddered.
I hadn’t seen my wife in four weeks, two days and eight hours. But who the fuck was counting?
“Why don’t you admit you’ve made a mistake?” Quentin’s voice made me jolt in surprise.
“Fuck.” I spun around and found my friend standing in the hallway staring at me in pity.
Damm his pity! And his condescension. I scowled. “This is the last time I tell you that I’m not talking about her.”
He huffed and gestured to the room behind me. “She’s haunting you, Griff. And it’s not going away, is it?”
"I'm fine." I pulled the door shut and let it slam. "I just took an annoying phone call that's all. My father's lawyers found out about the separation. I told them it's merely a tiff, and it will be resolved soon, but they don't seem convinced."
“I thought your lawyer said there was little they could do now that the estate has passed into your hands.”
“They won’t win it back.” I nodded, assured of that fact. “But if Sebastian makes a fuss it could turn into a lengthy and expensive legal battle.”
Quentin followed me into my office. “There is a solution to all of it.”
“Oh?”
“You’re miserable. Scarlett’s…”
My heart pounded at the mere mention of her name. Had Amelia seen her lately? “Scarlett’s what?”
“Between what you and her sister have done to her… Amelia said she’s changed.”
I frowned. It was a repeat of what Amelia had said weeks ago. I didn’t want to hear it.
“Amelia gave her a few weeks, thinking she just needed some time, but she’s rebuffed Amelia’s attempt to reconnect. She’s not herself.”
Agitation squirmed in my blood. “It’s not my problem.”
"Liar. You've been moping around for weeks, and I know it's not just to do with this mess with Pete Svenson. You haven't looked at, let alone touched, another woman. When are you going to admit that you're in love with your wife?"
Panic suffused me at the thought, and my chest grew tight. "It's not love. It's an obsession. And I won't become my fucking father."
Quentin gave me another pitying look. “Love is obsession, Griff. It's just learning how to not stifle the person you love with those feelings. I'm going to tell you something that I've only ever told Amelia, and it goes no further than this room. And the only reason I'm talking about this shit is in the hope that I get my friend back. I'm obsessed with my wife. I obsess over her happiness. If she's out without me, I worry about her. I worry about other men looking at her. I worry that what happened to Scarlett with Bryce will happen to Amelia. The very thought sets my teeth on edge. What you did to Bryce? If he'd done that to Amelia, he'd be dead right now, Griff. Even if I'd been pulled off him, I'd have hunted him down, and fucking killed him. And Pete Svenson would be dead too. But you didn't do that. You controlled those urges. When Scarlett was here, and she was wearing something you hated her wearing because other men looked at her in it… did you make her change her clothes?"
I frowned, remembering all the times my father tried to do that to my mother even though they were divorced. “Of course not.”
“Did you tell her who to be friends with? Did you tell her she couldn’t work anymore so you could keep an eye on her?”
Like my father tried to do. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. “No.”
"Exactly. Your father was about obsession and control. The way you feel right now? Like you're coming out of your fucking skin. Like all you can think about is her, what's she doing, what she's thinking, wondering when will be the next time you get to touch her… that's called ‘what every man feels when he's so fucking in love he can't think straight.' It's how I feel about Amelia. Love is obsession, my friend." He repeated. "But when you love a woman more than you love yourself, you'll do anything to make her happy, including not getting in the way of her being who she wants to be."
I slumped into my chair, winded my Quentin’s words. My pulse raced at the mere thought of finding Scarlett and convincing her to come back to me. An itch tinkled the tips of my fingers as I imagined her eating breakfast with me, accompanying me to dinner, seeking her out just to talk about our day… lying in bed, waiting for me. The ache in my chest sharpened into something un-fucking-bearable. Still… “I’m not an easy man to live with, Quentin. Leaving her was what was best for her, not me.”
“Really? You really think pushing her away was what was best for her? She’s in love with you, Griff. She told Amelia. And being fucked over by her sister and then by you has fundamentally changed who she is. How is that what’s best for her?”
“Why didn’t you say all this sooner?”
Quentin didn’t even flinch at the snarl in my words. “You wouldn’t have listened. You needed time to realize that missing her will probably never go away.”
“You’re a coward. And I’ll never forgive you for this. Not just for this…But for leaving me when I needed you most.” Her words from all those weeks ago haunted me for the hundredth millionth time since she’d said them. The inkling of hope I’d felt was quickly quelled. “She hates me. She thinks I threw her away when she needed me.”
“Then find a way to win her back.”
“How?”
But before Quentin could offer me any more advice a knock on my office door sounded. "Come in."
Xavier stepped inside. He looked surprisingly flustered. “Sir, a woman bearing a remarkable resemblance to Mrs. Mandeville is at the front door claiming to be her twin sister. A Miss Melanie Jennings. And she’s insistent upon seeing you. She said that Mrs. Mandeville’s life depended upon it.”
Suspicion, worry, anger coalesced inside of me, and I looked at Quentin.
My friend smirked. “I think ‘how’ just landed on your doorstep.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Griffin
The breath left my body when Melanie Jennings stepped into my office.
“Jesus,” I heard Quentin mutter beside me.
I stood up from my desk, my eyes narrowed on Scarlett’s twin sister. She was dressed so similarly to Scarlett for a moment I was almost mistaken it was my wife.
But then those eyes met mine.
The sisters shared the same exotic-shaped eyes. Bedroom eyes. The color of Tahitian waters. Beautiful eyes. However, Mel's were hard, calculating. Scarlett's were always filled with warmth and kindness. And when she was turned on, they glittered like the ocean under the hot South Pacific sun.
Fuck.
The woman was turning me into a lovesick poet.
“Why are you dressed like that?” I asked in suspicion.
She smirked. “Funny, that’s the first thing Scarlett asked me. Am I really so different?”
"According to Scarlett, this isn't how you normally dress."
Mel dropped her bag on the floor and sat down on the seat opposite my desk. Her eyes flicked to Quentin. “Could we get some privacy?”
“I’m a good friend of Scarlett’s,” Quentin said. “If she’s in trouble I want to know about it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “What is it about my sister that gets men all
torn up about her? Men always want to fuck me. But my sister, they want to keep.”
“Maybe because Scarlett can be trusted.”
“Most men,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “After all, you threw her away. Bored you, did she?”
Jesus, how could two people who looked so alike be so different. “Do you even care that you broke your sister’s heart?”
Mel leaned forward, studying me. “Do you care you broke it too? Because it doesn’t look like it from here.”
“If you think I don’t care, why did you come?”
Suddenly I was treated to her death glare. “My sister’s lost weight. At least fifteen pounds. And she’s dead behind the eyes.” She wiped a hand over her face. “Fucking nothing. Now I’ll hold my hands up and say I’ve got a part to play in that. But I’m guessing you do too.”
Anger burned in my gullet, and it wasn't just all directed at Melanie. A lot of it was self-directed.
“I thought she was stronger than that,” she continued to muse. “Got through the death of our parents, her dead husband, a piece of shit sister like me, and still she managed to be annoyingly sweet and loving. I thought for the longest time I wanted her to break. I wanted her to be like me so that no one could hurt her.” she curled her lip. “Turns out I prefer her the old way. I’m kind of pissed she broke. Especially now.”
"You have ten seconds to get to the point, or I throw you out."
Mel grinned. “I think you rubbed off on her.”
“Ten—”
"Okay, okay." she straightened in her seat, her gaze darting between Quentin and me. "Look, after what happened… Scar finding out the truth, I lost my shit a little. Octavius and I broke up temporarily, and I started taking on clients again to piss him off, and he sat back and let me to piss me off in return. Thing is one of those clients is Hale O'Connor."
Quentin stiffened beside me. “Irish Mob Hale O’Connor?”
Uneasiness trickled through me. I didn't have dealings with O'Connor. If you were smart, you didn't. But I knew of him. I'd even met him. After all, we were both in the gambling business. Hale's crew ran all the casinos in Boston. Once upon a time, he wanted a piece of The Patrician, and it was only my money and connections that stopped him from fucking with me. "Why the hell does Hale need to pay for sex?"
She gave me a look as if I was naïve. "He has very particular interests in that department, and a lot of women aren't into that shit. Sometimes he pays."
“And he paid you?”
Suddenly all of Mel's cockiness disappeared. "I was upset that night. He'd had a meeting in the other room before coming to me. I left him passed out in the bed, and as I was passing through the suite, I saw them."
“Saw what?”
“Diamonds. A lot of diamonds.”
“Oh Christ,” I muttered, turning away from her. Could this woman be any more bloody stupid?
“What?” Quentin asked. “No. You didn’t take them. No one’s that stupid.”
"Well, I was upset, okay. I do stupid shit when I'm upset." She threw up her hands in defense. "I gave them back. I told Octavius, and he set up a meet and gave Hale the diamonds back. Said I was high on shit and didn't know what I was doing."
And that’s when I saw it.
Real, undiluted fear in her eyes.
Was she that good of an actress?
"It wasn't enough. You don't mess with them. They want to send a message. Octavius wouldn't hand me over, so he's in the shit with them too. He's hiding, waiting on me. He sold the escort business to some guy called Lewis Grantham. Tavius wants me to leave the country with him, and I was all ready to… but I can't leave until I know Scarlett is safe." She got up out of the chair and approached my desk, pleading. "Word got to Tavius that they know who Scarlett is. That she's married to you too. I think they might use her to not only get to me but to get to you. Word is they're planning a visit to the library."
Fear gripped every part of my being at the thought of Hale O’Connor touching Scarlett. “If you’re lying to me… if this is another fucking con… I will end you.”
"I'm not lying. I just got back from the library. I tried to warn my sister, but she wouldn't give me the time of day. She threatened to call the cops. That's why I came here. I need your help to convince her. If you give even a little shit about her, you'll protect her until Tavius and I can fix this."
"Why didn't you just let her call the police? That would have put O'Connor off." My heart was pounding, but there was a part of me that still didn't want to believe her.
She blanched. “Shit. Never thought of that.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. And then I glared at her. “You’ll wait right there,” I ordered her as I pulled out my phone.
“What are you doing?”
"Calling someone for verification." I knew Lewis Grantham. He was just as much of a criminal as the Irish Mob but had a reputation for fair play. He picked up on the fifth ring.
“Grantham, this is Griffin Mandeville.”
Mel's lips made an ‘o' of surprise. Yes, if the little witch was lying to me, she was about to be caught in it.
"Mandeville, long time no speak. What's the deal?" Lewis Grantham was Southie born and bred, and despite his hard-earned wealth, he'd never lost the accent.
“Word reached me you’ve bought Rock’s stable from him. True?”
"Very. Man drives a hard bargain, but with his client list it'll be worth it."
“What happened? Why did he sell?”
"Seems he hooked up with one of his escorts and she tried to rip off Hale O'Connor if you can believe it. Rock gave him back what she stole, but you know O'Connor. He feels like his rep is at stake. So word on the street is that Rock and his girl are in deep shit. As far as I know, they left the country. I'm sure O'Connor will leave it that as long as they don't come back. Why you interested?"
“Curiosity.” I didn’t explain further. “I have to go.” I hung up before Grantham could speak and tried to grapple with the urge to fucking run all the way to South Boston. I shared a worried look with Quentin. “She’s telling the truth.”
“Shit.”
I turned to Mel. Part of me wished I'd never set eyes on her, but I knew if I hadn't I wouldn't have met Scarlett. "In the interest of not alienating Scarlett any further, I'm not going to kill you." I leaned over the desk, so my nose almost touched hers. "But if anything happens to my wife… you're the first person I'm coming after."
Mel swallowed and threw me a shaky but cocky grin. “Good to know you do actually give a shit about her.”
I yanked out the drawer on my desk, pressed the button on the secret drawer inside it, and my Glock 19 appeared. There was silence in the room as I loaded it and lifted the back of my suit jacket so I could conceal the gun in my waistband. Then I grabbed the keys to my Range Rover. I rarely drove it, but it was armor plated and equipped for more passengers than my Vantage.
“You’re both coming with me,” I ordered, rounding the desk.
“Do you have another?” Quentin gestured to my back where the gun was hidden.
“I’m hoping that won’t be necessary. The gun is just a precaution.”
“Still, I’d feel better walking into a possible mob situation if I was armed.”
I bit out a curse. I hated wasting time. Instead, I grabbed up my phone and used it to page Xavier. He appeared in my office a minute later.
It felt like ten fucking hours.
“Xavier, retrieve my Glock from the penthouse and bring it to the garage. We’ll be waiting in the Range Rover.”
Although my butler's expression didn't change, he did grow more alert. "Is there trouble, sir?"
“Yes. I’ll explain later.”
“Do you need some assistance, sir? Perhaps one of the hazard room security guards?”
I kept security all over the hazard room and at the hazard bank. They worked as waiters and croupiers to blend in, so my guests never felt their weighty presence. Extra men wouldn't be a bad thing.
In fact, once Scarlett was safe and ensconced back in the club, I'd have two of the men permanently assigned to her. "Are Ross and Diaz here?"
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell them to meet us at the car.”
“And the gun, sir.”
I looked at Quentin.
“I’d still feel better armed,” he said.
I nodded at Xavier.
My heart was pounding as I gestured at Mel and my friend to follow me. I threw out tense smiles to staff members I passed, but the air of intensity around us gave us away. Concerned gazes followed us as we made our way through the kitchens and down to the basement. From there we entered the small underground garage where my cars and Xavier's vehicle was kept.
“She’ll be okay,” Quentin said.
"We hope." Mel snapped. "Hey, I have a guy waiting outside for me. He's one of Tavius' enforcers. We could use him."
“He can stay waiting outside for you.” I clipped. “I’d rather rely on my own men.”
Adrenaline rushed through me, making it hard to stand still. I needed Scarlett with me. Now. Protected. Safe. The thought of anything happening to her…
Fuck, I couldn’t even bear it.
Once I had her with me, I’d be able to think clearly. I’d be able to come up with a plan to keep her safe. And then convince her to stay with me. To forgive me.
Right then, I didn’t care if she forgave me or not. All I cared about was protecting her.
◆◆◆
Scarlett
Agitated, I could barely sit still in the staff room. As for eating the sandwich in front of me… not possible. My sister's appearance that morning had thrown me completely, and all I wanted to do was run out of the library and just keep on moving. If Mel was determined to bug the hell out of me, to play more games with me, I didn't want to be where she could easily find me.
It was time.
Angela needed to find a new temp.
“Girl, you need to eat. You are looking way too skinny these days.”
I frowned at Angela as she wandered into the staff room. "I'm not underweight." A few too many comments from Mrs. Donovan about my weight had gotten me worried, so I'd checked. I'd lost thirteen pounds, but I was a curvy girl to begin with, so the weight loss wasn't detrimental to my health. And it wasn’t like I was deliberately not eating. Food used to hold anticipation and joy for me. I loved food.