by Ray, M. L.
Levi ended the call and turned back to Anouk and Knox. “Look…”
“Hey! We’ve got a body! Underneath the stage.”
Levi’s knees almost gave out. No… no… please… he pushed past everyone to go down under the stage. A small group of people was gathered around a prone figure. He pushed through them, Knox beside him.
Levi felt his throat close. Knox put his hand on his shoulder. “Hey… this dude tried to hit on Nook the other day. Who is he?”
Levi finally found his voice. “It’s Tudor Welch.”
Juno moaned. Whatever Arturo had injected into her was making her groggy and her body felt limp. She opened her eyes, saw they were in a boat and were headed out over St. Mark’s Basin. Her wrists were bound behind her back. “Arturo.”
He turned to look at her, those bright green eyes of his blank, expressionless. “Not far now.”
“What are you doing?”
He smiled. “Someplace we won’t be interrupted.”
“I thought it was Tudor.” Her voice was weak and she could hardly make sense of what was happening. What the hell had he given her?
“Tudor was useful to begin with but this was always my end game. Me, you and my knife.”
Her head hurt. “Did you kill Fausta?”
“No, that was Tudor. I did kill Lucy Graziano, and I paid Tudor to stab Isa. He should have killed her, of course, but I had to finish the job myself.”
Isa was dead? Oh, no… “And Federico? Did you kill my brother?”
Arturo cut the boat’s engine as they drifted up against a pontoon. “Yes. Or, at least, I held a gun to his head while he injected himself with an armful of heroin. And you know what I told him while I watched him die? That he was lucky, because his death was painless compared to how agonising yours will be, Juno.”
“What did you inject me with?”
“The same thing that killed your brother, although a much, much smaller dose, of course. Wouldn’t want you to go peacefully.”
“Why? What have I ever done to you?”
The drugs were making her reckless; at the same time, she strangely felt no fear.
“Nothing, my beautiful Juno. That’s what makes this so pleasurable. You are an innocent in all of this. Ferdie died knowing I would kill you, his beloved little sister. That was something.”
“So it was you. Isa was right.”
“Completely and utterly.”
Arturo tied the boat up to its mooring and turned to pick her up. But Juno wasn’t an athlete for nothing. Rocking backwards, she brought her feet up and rammed him in the chest, hard, unbalancing him. With a shout, Arturo toppled into the water.
“You should have tied my legs, figlia di puttana.” Juno stumbled onto the pontoon. It was pitch black now, and she stumbled into the dark, not caring about where she was going, just wanting to get far away from her would-be murderer.
She heard him scream her name, heard him pull himself out of the water and come after her. In the distance, sirens. She knew they couldn’t be for her, no-one knew where they were… did they?
She heard breathing—Arturo was catching up to her, and she staggered away as fast as she could, knowing that he would probably catch her but she was going to make it as damn hard for him to kill her as possible.
“Help me! Someone!” Make as much noise as possible.
His hand on her shoulder brought her down, and they tumbled to the hard ground. Juno felt the ties on her hands give and she fought her captor. His knife glinted silver in the moonlight but she deflected it with her arms as he tried to stab her.
“Stop fighting me you bitch!”
But she didn’t. Every ounce of pain and anger spun through her like electricity and she fought with him. The drugs were slowing her down, but she fought Arturo Corri with everything she had inside her, all her sorrow for her murdered brother, for Isa, for Fausta and for Lucy Graziano. She fought to live for her love, Levi, and their future together. She grabbed the knife, and he slammed her arm down on the hard stone ground. They both heard the decisive snap of her forearm and she screamed in pain.
Then he had her. The tip of his knife pressed against the bodice of her costume. “It’s all over now, Juno. All over.”
Juno closed her eyes and waited to die.
“Take your hands off of her, motherfucker, or I’ll blow your pretty green eyes right out of your head.”
Juno’s own eyes flew open. Detective Rossi had his service pistol pressed against Arturo’s temple, his expression grim. Time froze. The knife’s point pressed a little further into her.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Juno could see the conflict in Arturo’s eyes. With one stroke he could bury the knife into her… but it would cost him his own life.
The pressure released. Rossi dragged Arturo away from her and then Juno was in Levi’s strong arms and they were holding each other and crying and laughing at the same time.
“Is it really over?”
Levi nodded, tears pouring down his face. “It really is, my darling. It’s all over now.”
Epilogue
Juno paced around the room as Martha, Tabitha and Levi watched her in amusement. “Darling, sit down. The baby will come when she’s ready.”
Juno looked at the clock. Nook had been in labor for hours now and Juno could hardly bear the wait. She was desperate to meet her niece or nephew.
Levi pulled her onto his lap. “Stop worrying. Nook’s done this before.”
“With me.” Tab said imperiously and Juno smiled.
“And if she can do it with you, you little monster…”
Tabitha grinned at her aunt and Martha laughed. “Piece of cake next to this one.”
They all started teasing Tabitha then who took it all calmly and giggling.
An hour later, Knox staggered in looking exhausted but delighted. “He’s here… he’s here…”
“It’s a boy?”
Juno nudged her husband. “Of course, doofus.”
Knox grinned “Yes, he’s here… he got here… five minutes before she did.”
They all gaped at him as he burst into laughter and tears at the same time. “Twins?”
“Twins. We had no idea.”
He took Tabitha from Martha and hugged his daughter. “What do you say to that, Tab? You have a brother and a sister.”
Tabitha was grinning wildly. “Excellent. I have my army.”
Knox’s eyes widened as the other’s busted up laughing. “I’m raising a psycho.”
“Or a future president.”
Knox and Tabitha both smiled the same goofy grin. “Come on, General. Let’s go see your new siblings.”
Juno and Levi hung back for a moment. “What a moment.”
“I know.” She kissed him softly. “Thank you for giving me a family.”
“Thank you for loving me.”
They held each other for another long moment, then went to celebrate with their family.
The End
Book Sample
His Other Wife, Book 1, Beautiful Lies Series
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07QH38G4J
Chapter One - December
The Dubois Gallery, Chelsea, London
Anouk Simon smiled politely at the critics who gathered around for the opening speech of the exhibit. She tried to ignore the twisting in her gut, the nerves which threatened to overwhelm her. She cast a look at Jennifer, her boss, who gave her a reassuring nod, and at Ophelia, the artist who was being exhibited. Ophelia looked as nauseated as Anouk felt. Compared to Ophelia, Anouk realized she had nothing to worry about. It wasn’t her art on the walls.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the DuBois Gallery, and to this first collection by Ophelia Harris, one of London’s most exciting new artists.”
Once she began, the words came flowing out of her—well, she had practiced over and over at home, until Shawn had begged her to stop.
/> He’d grinned as she swatted at him. “Sorry, lover, but if I hear about how this girl captures the chiaroscuro, one more time …”
Anouk grinned to herself, as she stepped away from the microphone and gave the floor to Ophelia.
Ophelia Harris shot her a grateful smile and began her short speech. Anouk stayed to lend her support, as the artist spoke in a hesitant voice. Afterward, as Ophelia was surrounded by critics and journalists, Anouk took the chance to slip back to the office and grab some water. She snagged her purse, rummaging around for the inhaler, and took a puff. Her chest eased instantly, and she blew out her cheeks. She’d been so stressed lately that her asthma had been worse than usual, even for this cold weather, and the fear that she would have an attack during her speech hadn’t helped. But she’d made it through, and Ophelia was being feted. This was going to be a good night.
She checked her watch. A little after eight o’clock, Jennifer pulled Anouk aside. “You did great, Nook, really great. I told you this was a cake walk.”
“Ha,” Anouk grinned at her boss, her mentor, “tell that to me when Ophelia sells out.”
“Not far off. There are only two pieces without reservations on them.”
Anouk’s eyes bulged. “Two? Just two?”
Jennifer laughed. At fifty-two, Jennifer could sometimes be hard-nosed and cynical about the art business. She could afford to be with her reputation. When Anouk had first started working for her, she’d been a little afraid of the forthright Jennifer Kline. Jennifer—never Jenny—didn’t suffer fools gladly, but behind the scenes, she was determined to see her female counterparts do well in this male dominated world. Her gallery was known for only exhibiting female artists, and she batted any criticism of ‘sexism’ away with a scornful look and a sharp comment.
Anouk held Jennifer up as the model of who she wanted to be in this world. Independent, fierce, strong. Jennifer, in turn, had mentored the young woman through the first fraught years after art college, when Anouk had first come to London to work at her gallery. Five years later, almost to the day, and Anouk was on the cusp of becoming a partner.
She could hardly believe it, but Jennifer had called her into the office six months ago and introduced her to Ophelia. “Make her a star, Nook, and I’ll make you a partner.” Anouk had been floored, but that night she’d bought home three bottles of champagne, and she and Shawn had celebrated all night.
It had helped that Ophelia had quickly become a good friend. Her best friend, actually, since coming here. Working long hours and already being married, Anouk had very little time outside of work and Shawn to meet new people, and Shawn, always quiet and shy, never wanted to share her with other people. “We spend so few moments alone, I just… I’m selfish. I want you to myself.”
And Anouk hadn’t minded at all. She had Jennifer at work, and some of the other interns, and now Ophelia. And she had Shawn.
They had met at college, or rather at the most popular bar for the students. Shawn had been the owner of the Last Resort, an Irish pub inspired by Shawn’s own Irish emigre parents. Anouk had been the quietest among her group of friends, but Shawn had made her feel like a princess, never taking his eyes off of her the whole first night. He’d waited, though, until she came in for the second time, before asking her out. He was older by five years, and much more wise to the world than her, but they’d found a connection. Both enjoyed a silly sense of humor and they found, as they got to know each other, that they had more in common. Neither had living parents or siblings; neither was in the place they called home. Shawn was from New York, and Anouk from Seattle. Anouk had lost her family in a car wreck when she was eight, and had gone through the foster care system; whereas Shawn’s parents had been much older, and had died from old age and a heart attack.
Shawn had proposed on the day of Anouk’s graduation, and three weeks later, they eloped and came to London to live. Shawn had sold his bar and bought some property to develop, and Anouk had hustled her way into Jennifer’s gallery.
Anouk went to thank the last stragglers at the exhibit just before midnight. She knew most of them would now find a bar somewhere, to either praise or pick apart Ophelia’s work over brandy or scotch. Let them, she thought, going to find the woman in question. Ophelia was in Jennifer’s office, pulling off her heels, groaning. Jennifer had a bottle of champagne open and was pouring it into flutes. She looked at Anouk. “Everyone gone?”
“I’m just going to do a last round up, then shove the rest out. You okay?” She said this to Ophelia, who grinned at her.
“Are you kidding? Best night of my life.”
Anouk grinned and went back out to the gallery. Only three people were left. Two of them thanked her, and then left the gallery. The last, a young blonde woman, tired-looking and too thin, was staring at Anouk. Anouk smiled at her. “Are you okay? Did you enjoy the evening?”
The woman didn’t answer immediately, her eyes, a cool blue, raking Anouk’s face. Then she gave a strange smile. “Yes. It’s been… enlightening.”
There was something about the young woman that made the hairs on the back of Anouk’s neck prickle. She had the feeling she was being laughed at. “Well, we’re just closing up, but if you need a few more moments…”
“Hey, babe.” Anouk jumped slightly, as Shawn’s voice came from behind her, and as she turned to face him, she saw the woman disappear, out of the corner of her eye. Shawn gathered her into a hug. “Hey, beautiful. How did it go? I’m sorry I was too late for the party.”
He kissed her, and she smiled, instantly relaxed. His warm brown eyes twinkled at her. “My girl did good?”
“I hope so, for Ophelia’s sake, but I think so. We’re having champagne in Jennifer’s office.”
Jennifer greeted Shawn with a smile, and Anouk introduced her husband to Ophelia, only realizing now that her new best friend had never met him. That was a little weird, wasn’t it? Anouk shrugged it off. Who cared right now? Tonight was about celebration.
It was almost three a.m. before they got home to their small apartment in Finchley, but both Anouk and Shawn weren’t at all tired. Hopped up on alcohol and love, they went straight to bed, undressing each other quickly and tumbling onto their bed together. “You tired, beautiful?”
Anouk grinned. “Nope.” She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, reaching down to stroke his cock. She ran her hands up and down it, pressing it against her belly until Shawn was rock-hard, then she slowly guided him into her and they made love, neither wanting tonight to end.
As she fell asleep, dawn was breaking over the city. Shawn wrapped his arms around her. “Sleep, my beautiful little genius.”
Anouk smiled, then, as she gave into unconsciousness, she thought she heard him ask her, in a whisper, to never leave him… please, never leave me, I’ll never let you go.
But she was asleep before she could figure out why he had said it.
Chapter Two—January
Christmas had come and gone and now London was shivering in the gloom of snow-bound January. The lush white drifts had long since turned to piles of dirty slush and treacherous black ice, and as Anouk awoke, she shivered in the cold of the apartment.
It was her day off. Shawn had already left for work, and Anouk got up, pulling her robe on. She went to the thermostat and turned it up. To warm herself up, she made a cup of hot tea and drew a long, hot bath. She sat back in the sudsy hot water and sighed with relief. Next week, she would officially be a partner at the DuBois Gallery, London. She could hardly believe it, and she chuckled to herself. Her. An orphan, a foster care kid, mixed-race and alone, and now she was a partner. A partner. “Holy shizzsticks,” she laughed to herself. Her voice echoed around the bathroom, and she amused herself by singing aloud, tunelessly; the acoustics of the bathroom making it sound even more comical.
As she got out and wrapped a towel around herself, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. At twenty-eight, she could still pass for her early t
wenties, her caramel skin glowing, her hair long, dark and falling in soft waves around her shoulders. Her startling green eyes stood out against the duskiness of her skin, her full mouth wide and always ready with a smile. She knew people considered her beautiful and, sure, Shawn told her that every day, but it wasn’t something that she thought about. She liked clothes and make-up as much as the next woman, but her true passion was art, and challenging herself to educate herself constantly. Beauty was fleeting, but knowledge…
She was still singing to herself as she began to dress, pulling on her favorite jeans and a lavender colored sweater. She left the door of the apartment open, as she skipped down one flight to grab the mail from the box, then had to hurry back as a breeze threatened to lock her out. “Doofus.”
She dumped the letters on the table and went to make more tea. Days off were sacrosanct to her. If the weather was good, she’d go out, into the city and visit other galleries and museums, or just hang out at a bookstore. If the weather was like today, freezing cold, snowy and windy, she was more than happy to stay in and devour a few books. On a good day she’d get through two or three. Reading was her happy place away from work. She tugged on thick socks and curled up on the couch.
It wasn’t until later that she realized she’d fallen asleep, and was awoken by her book falling to the floor, that she hadn’t checked her mail. She sorted through the many fast food menus to find only two letters. One was for Shawn, a utility bill. The other, an A4 manila envelope, was addressed to her. There was no return address.
Anouk opened it carefully and shook out the contents. Two photographs fell out, along with a folded piece of paper. Anouk frowned. The photographs were scratched, but still clearly showed Shawn with his arms around two young children, all three of them smiling into the camera. The second photo made the breath in her lungs freeze. It was Shawn, his arms around a beautiful young woman, blonde, and very familiar.
The girl from the gallery.
Anouk swallowed back the lump in her throat. What the hell was this? She unfolded the piece of paper and read the single sentence.