Promise: The Deception Trilogy, Book 3

by Fallon Hart

  I wanted her to admit that she was mine.

  However, if the look she was giving me were anything to go by that wouldn't be happening any time soon.

  “I’ve made mistakes. I know that.” I sighed, realizing too much had happened to her today to have the conversation I wanted to have. “But you need time. I will endeavor to be patient.”

  “Are we done here then?”

  A chill ran through me at the lack of spark, heat, tenderness in her gaze. I didn't realize how much I coveted her affection until it was gone. Fuck, but it was torture to have her this close and yet have her hate me. I shook off the feeling. "One last thing before I leave you to settle in. We discovered some information on Pete."

  She tensed at the mention of my ex-factotum. “Oh?”

  Uncomfortable with the idea of Pete and his strange fixation with me, I choked out, “It appears he has become rather obsessed with me. We found photographs on a secret laptop that date back for years.”

  “Photographs?”

  “Of me.”

  Her lips rounded into an ‘o' and I had to restrain myself from staring at them. "So Pete's problem with me was that he wanted you for himself?"

  "I have no idea." I inwardly shuddered at Pete's obsession. He'd violated my privacy countless times, and I'd had no idea he had an unhealthy interest in my life. It was disconcerting, to say the least. "I hired a PI to track him down, but we're having difficulty finding him. He also blackmailed some members to join the club. It seems he was only interested in using people's sexual kinks against them. Only two of the files warranted concern and those have been passed onto the authorities, and the memberships have been suspended pending an investigation. The other members received their blackmail files, and I offered to refund them their membership costs. None of them wanted to, which is good… considering."

  “What a slimy little bastard. I knew it from the moment I met him.”

  “Yes.” Guilt pricked me. “I should have listened more closely.”

  She shrugged, turning her back on me. “What’s done is done.”

  Fuck, but I wanted to cross the distance between us and pull her back into my arms. Part of me resented her for making me want her so much. Part of me was terrified she was changed for good. "Don't let what happened change who you are, Scarlett. You're a good person. Warm, perceptive and caring. Quentin said you tried to push Amelia away. That's not like you."

  Scarlett turned back around, her expression empty. “When can we get a divorce?”

  A knife.

  The question felt like a goddamn knife through my gut.

  The urge to rail against the request lodged like a lump in my throat. It hurt and part of me wanted to roar at her to expel the hurt. Instead, I cleared my throat and calmly answered, "We can discuss that later." I turned, now desperate to leave before I said or did something I'd regret. My eyes fell on her nightstand, and I stopped.

  Beside the photo of her parents she’d always kept there, was now a framed photograph of her with a young man I knew from my research was her ex-husband Eric.

  I cut her a look.

  She stared at the photo and then back at me. Something flickered in her expression, something like uneasiness, and then suddenly she threw her shoulders back and looked at me as if she was daring me to say something about the photo.

  Eric was a sore point for me. I was sympathetic to the tragic end of his life, but he'd also had something I coveted more than I coveted anything or ever had. He'd had, and apparently still did, the love of the woman I wanted. I knew it made me a selfish prick, but I wanted her to let him go.

  To lose herself solely in me.

  Like I was losing myself in her.

  The photograph pricked my pride as I suspect she intended.

  Cutting her a dark look, I marched out of the room before I started an argument with her on her first day home.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Scarlett

  Exhausted I'd laid down on my bed when Griffin left, and despite how wired I'd been I fell asleep. It was a shock to the system to be shaken awake by Xavier, momentarily disoriented to be back at the club.

  “Mrs. Mandeville, the police are here and asking to see you.”

  Oh crap. Angela did call the cops. I nodded and got out of bed.

  “Mr. Mandeville asked me to return these to you.” He held out my wedding rings.

  My stomach flipped uneasily as I stared at the white gold and diamond engagement ring and wedding band. I knew it made sense to put them on if I wanted to convince the cops I hadn't been kidnapped and was in fact married to Griffin, but that didn't mean my hands didn't shake as I took them from Xavier.

  The damn things were coming off as soon as the cops were gone.

  Sleepily following Xavier through the apartment to the elevator, my left hand seemed to weigh a ton.

  I'd assumed Griffin had taken the cops to his private apartment to avoid his club members seeing them, but Xavier led me out onto the third floor where Griffin's office was.

  Griffin stood from his chair as I entered. A female and male police officer stood in front of his desk and turned to appraise me as I walked in.

  “Miss Jennings?” the female cop strode toward me.

  I nodded. “But it’s Mrs. Mandeville.”

  She studied me carefully, and I shot Griffin a look, shrugging on my acting skills. "Everything okay?"

  “Miss Jennings—”

  “Mrs. Mandeville,” I corrected her again, holding up my left hand. “It’s been Mrs. Mandeville for a few months now.”

  “Very well. Mrs. Mandeville, I’m Sergeant Deller and this,” she gestured to her male counterpart, “Is Officer Adams. We received a report that you were kidnapped from your place of work at the South Boston branch of the public library today.”

  I smirked. “Kidnapped? By whom?”

  The sergeant looked less than pleased by my dry tone. “By a Mr. Griffin Mandeville.”

  “I’ve already told them that it’s preposterous,” Griffin said.

  “Is it?” Sergeant Deller asked me. “I can’t help you, Mrs. Mandeville, if you don’t tell me the truth.”

  I sighed, pretending to look embarrassed. “The truth is that my husband and I are still getting to grips with being married. We had a falling out that neither of us handled very maturely. Griffin came to my workplace to ask me to come back and work things out. I agreed.”

  The sergeant frowned. "Your boss Angela Brown reported that your husband was in a confrontation with a known member of the Irish Mob and that you were shoved into a Range Rover with plates that match the vehicle that belongs to Mr. Mandeville."

  Shit. I threw Griffin a look, but his expression gave nothing away. He rounded the desk and answered for me. "I'm sure you know that Hale O'Connor runs most of the casinos in Boston."

  The male officer nodded. “We’re aware of that.”

  "Well, Mr. O'Connor has been persistent on and off for some years in trying to form a partnership with me. A partnership I've avoided for obvious reasons."

  The cops nodded.

  Griffin continued, “It appears Mr. O’Connor felt he could approach my wife to open another discussion about it. I made it clear this afternoon that it wouldn’t be happening.”

  “Do either of you feel threatened by Mr. O’Connor?” the Sergeant asked, the mood of the whole interview changing.

  Griffin shook his head. “No. His efforts are benign and merely misguided.”

  “You corroborate your husband’s story?” Sergeant Deller asked.

  “I do. I’m here of my own free will.”

  "Well, I guess there's nothing else for us to do here." She gestured to the other officer, and Griffin offered to walk them out. I said goodbye and stood by the railing, watching Griffin lead them downstairs. They passed club members, and it surprised me that he didn't seem all that bothered about how the presence of police might disconcert them.

  I wanted to ask him about it, but I thought it better not to st
ick around.

  ◆◆◆

  The next day I called Mrs. Donovan and explained everything. To my utter shock, she took Griffin's side because she'd heard of O'Connor and told me he wasn't a man you crossed. That did make me feel uneasy, and the thoughts I'd been harboring about running away were quelled. At least momentarily.

  Mrs. Donovan kindly packed up my stuff, and one of Griffin's many minions delivered it to the club. Xavier brought it to my room. When I asked after Wells, Xavier surprised me by saying he had replaced Pete and was learning the ropes as the new Club Factotum. It was more than a relief to no longer have to worry about bumping into slimy Pete Svenson.

  For the next several days I managed to avoid Griffin. Between the hours of six-thirty and two-thirty, the club was mine to roam. I made sure to stay out of Griffin's way and fell into a kind of routine. I got up early every morning, and I went for an hour long swim. Sometimes time got away from me, and I didn't get out of the pool until my skin was prune-like. It was a luxury to have such a big pool to myself. And with the way Chef Depardieu was trying so hard to fatten me up, I needed the exercise.

  After my swim, I'd shower and then eat breakfast. I'd then read or write in my room, and then I'd call up to the spa to book a free treatment. I might as well get the most out of my imprisonment and Griffin's pocketbook, right?

  Making sure the coast was clear I'd head down to the spa after my lunch, walking the halls like a ninja, so I didn't accidentally bump into Griffin. And then I'd get a massage or a facial or anything that would help me relax even just a little.

  However, as soon as three o' clock hit I was back in my room, hiding away from the masses.

  Four days and I was getting cabin fever.

  I just didn’t know how to the face the members. I knew they’d all be speculating.

  Plus… I might bump into her.

  Evangeline Pierce.

  On the fifth day, a Saturday, a knock sounded at my door while I was eating breakfast. Assuming it was Xavier because Griffin had at least done me the courtesy of staying away, I called for the butler to come in.

  Except it wasn’t Xavier.

  It was Griffin.

  I swallowed a bite of croissant and wiped the flakes off my lips. “What do you want?”

  He ignored my question and walked across the room to take the seat at the window. “Did you enjoy your swim this morning?”

  Scowling at the insinuation he knew about my schedule, I huffed, “That’s really why you came in here?”

  “I was merely offering an opportunity to observe social niceties.”

  “Well merely don’t.” I pushed the breakfast tray away. “Now I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “How long am I to put up with this surly, childish behavior? Because quite frankly, Scarlett, I’m at the point where I’m ready to put you over my knee.”

  I gaped at him. “You do remember you’re the one in the wrong here, right?”

  "Yes. I am aware. But the Scarlett I knew was able to put the past behind her, be a grown-up, and move the fuck on."

  I laughed, a bitter, ugly sound. "I was almost raped in your home by one of your club members, and you not only abandoned me after the fact, but you also tried to sweep me away like a dirty little secret."

  Our gazes held and locked. His burned until eventually, he couldn't look at me anymore. Griffin ran a hand across the thick stubble covering his cheeks and stared outside for a what felt like forever. Finally, his voice gruff, he said, "I want to explain. I do." He turned back to me. "But you're not ready to hear it."

  “You said that last time.”

  "And nothing has changed since last time. I haven't seen you in four fucking days. I know you swim in the morning and take breakfast not long after. Then you hide in this room for hours until you send down for lunch. And then you visit the spa until the club opens at which point you return to your suite never to be seen again until morning."

  He was aware of my every move.

  “It’s time for that to end. We need to be seen in public. Unified. I need to remind Hale O’Connor that you’re the wife of a powerful man who can and will destroy him if he fucks with you.”

  I swallowed hard at the idea of going out in public with Griffin. “Isn’t this O’Connor guy powerful?”

  "In his way. He has some connections, but mostly he's feared among the general masses. If you go through this club membership roll, you'll find district attorneys, supreme court judges, senators, billionaires, men and women who own empires. Many people who walk these halls are not people you fuck with and some of them just happen to be people I'm in business with or share a genuine affinity with. I could crush O'Connor, and he knows it."

  “Then why does he think he can use me?”

  Griffin shook his head. “I told you. You’re not ready to hear about that.”

  I scowled at him. “It’s not like you to sound like a goddamn fortune teller at a carnival.”

  He gave a bark of laughter, looking and sounding so attractive, so appealing, I had to look away.

  “We’re going to the Wellington’s again. It’s their annual Thanksgiving charity dinner and dance tonight. I accepted our invitations.”

  What? He expected me to go outside with him? “No way.”

  “Amelia and Quentin will be there.”

  My brows knit together when I thought about my friend. I'd actually expected to see or hear from Amelia since being unwillingly dragged back the club, but there had been nothing but silence on her part.

  As if he read my mind, Griffin explained, “I asked her to give you some time to adjust to being back.”

  “That wasn’t your right.”

  He shrugged. “You’ll see her tonight anyway.”

  "I'm not going. You can't just drop a formal event on me and expect me to be okay with that."

  "I've not only hired bodyguards, but the girls at the spa will also do your hair and makeup as usual."

  Ugh, he was so obtuse sometimes. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the fact that I’ll have to pretend to like you and I’m just not there yet.”

  “You did fine with the police.”

  "Because I realized you were right. Involving the police would have been a problem eventually. I'm not ready to forgive Mel, but I also don't want the police hounding her."

  Griffin’s expression suddenly softened. “That gives me more hope than you can know.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it means the Scarlett I married is still in there.” He pointed to my heart.

  I shifted uncomfortably. “I still can’t go to this ball tonight.”

  He stood up, expression hard again. “You can and you will.”

  Hating that he was pushing me to say it because I didn’t want him to know that he’d hurt me I schooled my own expression into one of blank calmness. I hoped. “And what about your woman. Won’t she be pissed you’re out and about playing my husband again?”

  He immediately scowled and walked across the bed toward me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I wanted to punch him. I really… I just wanted to wallop him. "Your little Broadway star."

  Realization dawned, and he bit out a curse. "That fucking magazine." He glared at me. "And you believed the story then? I take it you didn't see the retraction Miss Pierce's people made Elite print?"

  No, I hadn't, but he had to know either way I could care less. "I don't care if you're seeing someone. Nothing you do surprises me anymore."

  Suddenly he bent down, his hands on either side of my hips as he shoved his face in mine. I pulled back a little, but I found myself caught in his dark gaze. He was too close. Too warm.

  Too many memories.

  “She was on the waiting list for membership and wanted to discuss her membership over dinner. You know I’ve wined and dined people before to get them to sign up for membership. You’ve come to the dinners with me.”

  I did know that.

  Shit.


  “I never cheated on you.”

  “I know that,” I answered immediately. “I do know that.”

  His dark eyes warmed slightly. “I haven’t touched a woman since I met you and I’m not dating anyone. I’m married to you.”

  My chest all of a sudden felt too tight, and I was so overwhelmed by him I had the absurd desire to burst into tears. I stifled the feeling. "It doesn't matter."

  “It matters to me.”

  Finally, somehow, I managed to wrench my gaze from his. “Our marriage is a sham. We both know that. Pretending used to be easier but not now… too much has happened. How can you expect me to walk into that house tonight and deal with all the speculation and gossip?”

  He pulled back and stood up, giving me room to breathe again. “Because you have to. I’ll be there. Amelia and Quentin will be there.”

  Suspicion niggled at me. “Tell me something. Did your father’s lawyers ever get in touch after I left?”

  Griffin tensed, and my stomach plummeted.

  “Well?”

  “Yes,” he admitted stiffly. “But my lawyers assure me that it will be near impossible for them to win my mother’s estates back for Sebastian if he contests it.”

  “But they asked about our separation?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you need to me to put in a public appearance to kill their questions?”

  He glared at me. “This isn’t about that. It’s about O’Connor.”

  I glared back. “I don’t trust you.”

  We found ourselves in an angry staring contest, the tension between us thickening and swelling until the room was stifled by it. There was a part of me that wanted to throw myself at him. Rip and bite and lick and fuck all my rage out. It was a part of me I didn’t recognize. He always did have a way of bringing my extreme passions to the fore.

  As if he felt it too, that unbearable heat that was suddenly confusing, he practically growled, “Be ready to leave at seven. No excuses.” And then he stormed out of the room, my door slamming shut and shuddering in his wake.

  I exhaled the breath I’d been holding and fell back against my pillows.

  My whole body trembled and ached.