And I was devil enough to do that. To take her along with all the poison she felt. To drag her into my schemes with me.
“I didn’t want to believe it. I knew it was a possibility, but I didn’t want to be responsible.” She put her hands together and propped her elbows on her lap.
“You aren’t. It’s not your fault.” I leaned up to kiss her forehead. “You tried to tell.”
“I didn’t try hard enough.”
I tilted her chin up forcefully. “Stop. I won’t hear that from you.” My eyes darted between both of hers. “We’re doing this now. You got that? We’ll stop him now.”
She nodded. Then, after thinking about it for another few seconds, she shook her head. “I just don’t understand. How could he be involved in something this big for so long and not have been stopped?”
“Powerful men with lots of money,” Camilla said, reminding us of her presence. “They’re above the law.”
If Celia realized I was included in that group, she didn’t acknowledge it. “Can’t your FBI friend just show up at one of Ron’s events and catch him in the act? Why does it have to be the two of you?”
It had to be me because of her. How could she not realize that? I had to be the one to do this for her because it was my job. Because I was her husband. Because, when I’d said I would love and care for her, I’d made those vows with utmost sincerity.
“The parties are all kept very hush hush,” I said instead. “Only people on the invite list know the time and location. Also, the authorities can’t go in without a warrant, and they don’t have enough reason to get one, legally. They need an undercover operation for something like this, and going after Ron Werner is not on the priority list.”
“Wasn’t on my father’s either.”
And that was why Warren Werner was still on my vengeance list as well.
But I wasn’t about to get ahead of myself.
I pulled the handkerchief from my front pocket and handed it to her. “He might have someone he’s paying off to keep his activities on the down low. It’s possible he’s just too big of an entity to even consider going after. I’m guessing they all are.”
“I guess that shouldn’t surprise me.” She dabbed at her eyes, then, with one last sniffle, pulled herself together. “Can I see those pictures?” She nodded to the open file on my desk.
I grabbed the few on top and handed them to her.
“This man,” she said pointing to one in a group shot. “And this one. And this one. Those men were there that night. They were...they…”
They’d been the men who’d “bought” her. She didn’t have to say it. I knew. There had been five of them in total. I’d been hoping that I’d found at least a few of them.
I’d hoped I’d found them all.
“I’ll get them too,” I promised, leaning against the edge of the desk.
“Me too.” Camilla reached out to take Celia’s hand. “I want to get them too.”
Celia smiled faintly, and my chest tightened. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted them to like each other until that moment. It had been silly to think otherwise, to believe I could keep my world compartmentalized, especially when I so wanted Celia to be a part of all of it.
It hadn’t been that way with Marion. But then Marion had wanted to be kept separate.
“What can I do to help?” Celia asked, drawing me from my thoughts.
Camilla responded before I could. “You don’t need to do anything.”
I didn’t quite agree with her answer. “You can help me try to identify the other two who were there that night. To make sure I have them on my radar.”
“Okay. I will.” Celia grew serious, her eyes piercing. “What about with Ron? What can I do to help get Ron?”
The exhilaration that rushed through me was nearly blinding. I’d done it. I’d brought her to my side, and, hell if we weren’t going to be formidable together.
“Can you feed a little gossip to your parents?” I asked. “I think it would help if Madge Werner thinks you and your sister-in-law are not friendly.”
“Yes. I’ll call now,” she said, rising from her chair.
It wasn’t far to the door, but I hurried to walk her there. “Are you all right?” I asked quietly, when we were at the threshold. Camilla was still close enough that she could likely hear our whispered conversation, but I didn’t care about that. I cared about my wife.
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I should have gotten involved sooner.”
I cupped her face with my hands.”There was no need. I told you I’d take care of you, of this, and that’s what I’m doing.”
“I know, and I appreciate it. But you were right—I need to do this.” She brushed her lips against mine in a soft kiss. “You were right about something else, too, you know.”
“What?”
“When we get him? It’s going to feel real, real good.”
Eleven
Celia
“The sofa goes there. The chair goes there.”
Freddie moved the furniture pieces on my model, adjusting them the way a three-and-a-half-year-old boy thought they should go rather than what was functional. It was fortunate I even had the thing. These days, most designers rendered their designs on computer. I was one of those people, though, who had a better vision when I saw the thing in 3D. Real 3D, not a flat-screen version.
I handed him the fireplace, giving up on my work. “And where should this go?”
He thought about it for a minute then moved the piece to be in front of the windows.
“That’s an unusual place for a fireplace,” Edward said as he came into the space I’d once used as a bedroom. It had been completely transformed to be a cozy work area, and while I was glad for the space and for the work, I couldn’t help but think it might be better suited as a nursery.
It wasn’t a thought I had too often, but Freddie’s visit over the last couple of days had settled the idea more firmly in my mind. I hadn’t had a lot of experience with children before him and had always assumed I would be terrible with miniature humans. Turned out I actually had a knack.
At least I had a knack for Freddie.
“I don’t know,” I said, defending the kid’s choice in fireplace placement. “The smoke can go right out the window now. No need for a chimney. Quite convenient.”
Freddie’s eyes suddenly went wide with panic. “Father Christmas comes down the chimney!”
“He has a point, Celia. There has to be a chimney for Father Christmas.”
I laughed. “I’ll work on adding that to the design then.”
“You do that. Meanwhile, it’s time for this one to get to bed.” Edward swooped Freddie from his chair and flew him like an airplane to Anwar who was waiting in the doorway. Once the boy had been deposited in his caretaker’s arms, Edward ruffled his hair. “Sleep well, you monster.”
“I’m not a monster,” Freddie said.
Edward feigned surprise. “You’re not? What are you then?”
“I’m a little boy!”
“Maybe you’ll be more recognizable after your bath. Now get to it. No more delays. Blow your auntie a kiss first.”
Freddie kissed his hand and opened it with what was supposed to be a blow of air but came out more like spitting. I pretended to catch the kiss and placed my palm to my cheek. “Got it,” I said.
Edward walked the pair out the door and as far as the stairs, then returned to stand in my doorway, his hands thrust in his pockets.
“You’re good with him. I bet you were an amazing father.” I focused on rearranging the model pieces instead of looking at him. So he wouldn’t think the statement was significant. Because it wasn’t. Not really. I knew where he stood on having more children.
“I wasn’t,” he said, surprising me into looking up. “I was much too young. Too impatient. Too preoccupied. I never had time to play with them like I should have.”
Part of me longed to know what had preoccupied him, if it had been his relat
ionship with his wife or simply the details of building a wildly successful business.
But another part of me—a stupid, hopeful, optimistic part of me—wanted to grab onto the thread he’d so casually thrown out. “Maybe you should try again, then. Now that you’re older and more settled.”
His expression became stony. “No.”
That was it, nothing more. One syllable, and the subject was officially closed.
I sighed, wondering if this was a battle I wanted to try to wage. I’d gone into our marriage knowing his thoughts on the matter, I’d stayed when our relationship became real knowing he hadn’t changed his mind. I hadn’t wanted them, so it hadn’t been an issue, except that maybe that had been a lie. Maybe I had wanted them. Maybe I’d always wanted them. Maybe that want had just been one more of the feelings I’d buried deep in numbness.
But did I want a child more than I wanted Edward?
I didn’t. So there was no battle to wage.
“Besides,” Edward said, as though sensing where my head was. “I’d much rather play with you.” As easily as he’d scooped up Freddie, he bent and swept me up from my chair. “Work is done now. Let’s play.”
I tilted my head wondering what he was up to. Then when he set me down in front of the white side of the chess board he’d given me for Christmas, it was evident.
“This wasn’t exactly what I hoped you had in mind.” But I moved my pawn.
He sat across from me and pushed his pawn out to meet mine. “I’m sure I have more in mind than this. Just, this first.”
That was promising. I moved a knight. He moved a bishop. I moved my other knight. He moved one of his.
The rhythm of our game should have focused me entirely, but my head was elsewhere, had been since I’d interrupted his conversation with his sister a couple of days prior. It had been a heavy revelation, realizing that Ron had other girls. I was disgusted, of course. And sad—sad that I hadn’t done more to stop him. Sad that he had other victims.
The worst part, though, was that I also felt jealous.
It was stupid that I could feel that way and gross and shameful. It showed how deeply he still affected me. Ron had groomed me to care that I was special, and even after everything, after the auction and therapy and finding real love, I still was programmed to care.
That had shocked me.
But Edward had known. He’d understood that there was closure needed where my uncle was concerned, and he’d been certain that vengeance was the road to achieving it, even when I’d insisted that it wasn’t. That I was fine.
I hadn’t been fine. Not if Ron still had the power to make me feel those kinds of things. I could see that now, could see what Edward had seen all along, and except for encouraging me to journal and schedule an impromptu session with my doctor, he hadn’t pushed the topic since I’d left his office. He’d given me space, and I was grateful.
But now I was ready to talk.
“Have you heard from Camilla? Was she able to meet with Ron?” That was an easy place to start. I moved a pawn.
Edward’s other knight came out. “Yes.”
I picked up a pawn and stared at him, dying for more. “And…?”
“Make your play.”
I set the piece on the board, not even looking to see how wise of a move it had been. “Did it go as planned?”
He moved a knight before he responded. “It went as expected. He played dumb, but he took her card. He did ask who had told her he might have knowledge on the subject.”
I played my bishop, knowing no questions would be answered until I did. “What did she say?”
His knight took mine. “You aren’t paying attention.”
I scowled and tried to focus on the board. I took his knight with my queen. “I’m not?”
“Not the wisest move.”
I wasn’t exposed. I’d taken one of his pieces. I couldn’t see any flaw in the thought process. He was just trying to rile me. “Keep your commentary to yourself, please. And tell me about Camilla.”
With a sly smile, he castled. “She didn’t exactly answer. Just said that she’d recently become a sort of relative, by marriage. Left him with that.”
My stomach felt queasy. It felt dangerous knowing that Camilla had interacted with him, that she’d referenced me in any way. This will always be just between us, Ron had said to me, over and over and over. It was cruel how I could still worry he’d be mad.
It made me mad.
I moved my other bishop. “I want you to get him,” I said as he moved his own bishop in response. “I want you to get all his friends.” I took his bishop with mine.
Then, seeing my opportunity, I made a move of another sort. “And I want to talk about who else you think deserves my wrath.”
He paused, his fingers on his rook, his eyes on me. He studied me for a beat before sliding it to the next space. “Who says I think anything?”
I glared at him. “Don’t even pretend you don’t have thoughts. You’ve been hinting that there are others you think I should go after, and I know you meant those five assholes, but I think you have more people in mind than that. I haven’t wanted to discuss it, but I’m giving you a chance now. Talk.”
He gestured at the board.
“Goddammit.” I castled. “Now talk.”
He slid a pawn out with a chuckle. “How about we both talk?”
I moved a pawn. “Fine. Let me state for the record that we are just talking. You won’t do anything based on this conversation. You hear me?”
He chuckled. “Giving me orders, are you?”
“I’m serious, Edward.”
His face grew somber. “We’re just talking,” he agreed.
“Good. Now you.”
Another black pawn came out. “Your father.”
My breath lodged in my chest. That was why we needed to have this conversation. Not because I thought he might be right and that I should seek justice from other people who had wronged me, but because he thought I should, and the unspeaking of it was like a silent wedge between us. If it wasn’t addressed, it would eventually drive us apart.
With great determination, I moved my piece and found my voice. “My father didn’t have anything to do with ruining your father’s company. I told you. Ron had autonomy.”
He played a pawn. “We aren’t talking about your father wronging me. We’re talking about how he’s wronged you.”
I looked at the board, but all I could see was my father’s face the day I’d told him what his little brother had done to me. “You think I should get back at him for not listening to me about Ron.” I made my move absentmindedly.
Miraculously, I didn’t lose any pieces with Edward’s next play. “I think he deserves to pay for that. Yes.”
I moved my queen. “He made a mistake. I was a little girl.”
“You were his little girl, and he should have protected you. That’s a father’s job.” He slid his bishop diagonally across the board. “Not only did he not protect you, but he used you to protect himself, putting his shares in your name to evade taxes. Those are not acts of a good father. You yourself said that your relationship with him is strained.”
“Which is why I should probably do as my therapist suggests and talk to him.” I had no plans to at the moment, but the idea made more sense than whatever Edward thought I should do.
“Talking doesn’t pay back what you’re owed.”
“I don’t know that he owes me anything. Besides an apology. He didn’t make me go back to Ron’s after that, at least.” I wondered what his reaction would be when Ron was finally arrested, if he’d apologize then or pretend I’d never said anything. “Anyway, he’s going to get blowback when all of this goes down with my uncle. That will make me feel better.”
“But it won’t make me feel better.”
I stared at my husband, dumbfounded. Was this still somehow about what Werner Media did to his family or was Edward that upset for me? I’d explained that my father wasn’t responsi
ble for Ron’s actions, so it shouldn’t be that. But the other option was more unbelievable.
Did he really love me that much?
“Take your turn,” he said, not giving me any insight.
I made a thoughtless move and lost a pawn on his next turn. After I played again, I opened my mouth to ask about his motives with my father, but he spoke first. “There are others besides your father. John. The man who took your virginity. That was statutory rape.”
“Technically, yes, but I asked for it.”
“It doesn’t matter. It was illegal. He should pay.”
“Like you should pay for all of your illegal activities?”
He took my bishop. “We aren’t talking about me.”
Right. Because he was the devil. He doled out the punishments, he didn’t ever pay for his own.
We made our next several moves in silence, mostly because I was beginning to think there was no reasoning with my husband, and worrying what that meant for our marriage.
It meant that I had to try harder, was what it meant. I wasn’t accepting any other option.
“Who else?” I asked after he took another of my pieces from the board.
“I have mixed feelings about the boy who tricked you into dumping your boyfriend for him. He broke your heart, and he did it maliciously, but you paid him back already by sleeping with his father, didn’t you? And he did step up when you got pregnant by claiming to be the father. That seems like retribution in its own right.”
I took one of his pawns. “I agree. He should be off the hook. You would have a hard time taking Hudson Pierce down anyway.”
His fingers froze on his queen. “That was Hudson Pierce?”
Shit. I’d forgotten I’d kept that from him.
Maybe it was good to come clean about this, though. “Yep. That was Hudson.”
“So the father you seduced was Jack Pierce.”
I shrugged, guiltily. “It wasn’t one of my finer moments.”
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