Depraved (The Devil's Duet Book 1)

by Eva Charles

  His tentacles are wedged into everything Gabrielle Duval, that’s how he came to have it, Patrick. It’s unnerving, and I’m furious that JD’s defiled the one place I always felt safe. The little sanctuary I built for myself, that until four days ago didn’t have a single memory attached to him. He’s shattered all of it. And I’m still struggling to figure out why.

  “I took the liberty of reserving a ticket for you. I’ll email the itinerary, and if it works with your schedule, I’ll purchase the ticket. Antoine will take you to the airport, and a car will be waiting when you arrive in Houston. The driver will take you directly to the hospital. Your parents are staying in a two-bedroom suite at Celene. There’s plenty of room, but I’m happy to book you separate accommodations, if you prefer.”

  “My parents are at Celene?” Jesus. “No. I’ll stay with them, thank you.”

  “The hotel is not as elegant as The Gatehouse, but it’s quite comfortable.”

  I did demand that JD make visiting my parents easy. But even so, I want to tell Patrick that JD can shove the over-the-top luxury hotel and the private plane where the sun doesn’t shine. But I don’t. I’m relieved and grateful my mother is getting state-of-the-art care, and that my father has everything he needs.

  I guess I’m surprised. I assumed he’d want me to spread my legs before letting me see her. Assumed or hoped, Gabrielle? I try to bury the thought, but it’s alive and screeching, pecking at my conscience mercilessly with a strong pointed beak.

  “Thank you for making the arrangements.”

  “My pleasure, Ms. Duval. My contact information will be in the email. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to assist you with the trip.”

  I say goodbye, still shaken that JD has somehow wrangled my private number. It’s a small thing, but it’s emblematic of what’s to come. If this were a play, we’d call it foreshadowing. But this isn’t make-believe. This is my life. There will be nothing, no part of my existence that won’t be open to him. He as much as said so.

  But I will fight to keep some modicum of control, some small part of myself that is untouched by him. Sure, I’ll probably lose, but I will not go down quietly.

  Georgie pokes her head into my office. “Good morning.”

  “Morning. You’re here early.”

  “I’m having a sonogram this afternoon and I don’t know how long it’ll take. They’re never on time at that office. I thought I’d get here early to get some things done before my appointment.”

  “Take as much time as you need this afternoon, Georgie. You work hard, and Lord knows I can’t pay you what you’re worth. But a few hours, here and there, is the one thing I can afford. Is Wade going with you?”

  Georgie nods. “I don’t know how I’d ever keep him away. Wade’s like a little boy let loose in a candy store with a pocketful of change. He can’t wait for this baby to be born.”

  “What about you? You seem a little anxious today. Are you okay?”

  “I’m excited. I really am, but some days the nerves get the best of me. The doctors aren’t really worried about post-partum preeclampsia. So far, there’s not even a hint it might be a problem, but it killed my mother and my aunt. Some days, I just can’t get it out of my head.

  “Things are different now than they were when you were born. Maternal healthcare is so much better. It’s all going to be fine, Georgie. I’ll be there with Wade, and we’ll be watching out for you every step of the way. We won’t let anything happen to you or the baby.”

  “I know I’m being silly. It’s just this feeling I can’t seem to shake.”

  I get up and go to her, cocooning her in my arms. My mother is so much better at this, but I try to make my friend feel safe. Sometimes I worry about Georgie giving birth, too. But I try not to go there. The thought of anything happening to her is too much to bear. “It’s going to be okay, darlin’. You’re going to cry at her wedding. And I’ll be right beside you, bawling too. I know it’s a girl, and we’re gonna’ have so much fun spoiling her rotten.”

  “Damn hormones,” she sniffles. “They’re the cause of all that’s evil in the world.”

  I hate to see her like this. Georgie puts on a brave face better than anyone I’ve ever met. Her mother died two days after giving birth, and she was an only child, raised by a drunk.

  She slowly pulls out of my embrace. “I should get to work.”

  “Sit with me for a minute. I have a favor to ask.”

  She lowers herself onto the edge of the chair. “You never ask for favors. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry to put this on you at the last minute, but any chance you’ll be around this weekend?”

  Her features relax, and she wiggles back in the seat. “Wade and I don’t have any special plans. We’re just cleaning out the spare room to get it ready for the baby. Do you need me to work?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind popping in for an hour or so on Saturday, and then again on Sunday. I’d be grateful. You can take Monday off.”

  “Happy to. Please tell me you’re getting out of town, and maybe having a little fun for a change.”

  “I’ll be in Houston visiting my parents. I want to talk to the doctors, and see for myself what’s going on there.”

  Georgie nods, but the sour look on her face is unmistakable. I wait for her to bring up JD, but she doesn’t mention him. “Hardly fun. And here I thought maybe you were sneaking away with a hot guy, and putting that miserable bastard Dean behind you.”

  “I’m done with hot guys. They’ve been nothing but trouble for me. The next guy I date will be middle-aged and balding, with a slight paunch and a double chin.”

  Georgie chuckles. “If you don’t mind pickled onions, I hear Jacob Lott is looking for a bride.”

  I stick my tongue out at her. “Thanks.”

  “Do you want me to purchase the plane ticket or make hotel reservations for you?”

  I shake my head. “JD’s assistant made all the travel arrangements for me.”

  She nods, and gets up, shoulders slumped. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Gabby.”

  9

  Gabrielle

  On Saturday morning, I pause in the doorway of my mother’s hospital room, and smile wistfully. Mama’s asleep, her hair wrapped in a cream satin scarf, and my father’s dozing in a recliner near the bed. They both look so peaceful, I almost hate to disturb them.

  It’s a spacious, private room with a bouquet of fresh flowers on the windowsill. It looks more like a room in an upscale hotel than in a hospital. Bright and fresh, immaculate, without the sterile decor and antiseptic smells I associate with hospitals.

  My father opens his eyes and blinks a few times when I walk in. He seems a bit disoriented, and frailer than I remember. My mother’s illness has taken a toll. I remember when my grandmother was dying—spending days upon days in a hospital, even when you’re not the patient, extracts its own toll.

  I go over to him and press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls me against his chest. His heartbeat is steady and strong. And familiar.

  “Let’s step outside,” he whispers, patting my arm. “She needs to sleep so she’ll be ready for Monday.”

  In the hall, my father slings an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. “I’m so glad you’re here, sweet pea. Dean with you?”

  It was inevitable they would want to know about Dean, but with everything going on in the last few days, I hadn’t given much thought to what I would say when they asked. I shake my head. “I gave him back his ring.”

  He pulls away from me. “Did he hurt you?”

  I hate lying to my father, but the truth would serve no purpose but to upset him. “The relationship wasn’t right. Not for a marriage. I’m just glad I realized it in time.”

  My father studies me for a few seconds before pulling me back under his arm. “You’re young. You’ll find your soulmate.”

  “I wish you or Mama had told me you were coming to Houston. I would have made th
e trip with you.”

  He shakes his head. “Your mother and I talked about it at length. As much as we miss you when you’re not around, I can hold down the fort here while your mother’s having treatment. You need to stay in Charleston and take care of the hotel, sweet pea. That’s your future. We’ll be back before you know it.”

  “It’s just—”

  “Just what?”

  “Mama cooks a special diet for you, and makes sure you take your blood pressure medicine, and that your shirts are pressed just the way you like them.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’m not helpless. I can take care of your mama too.”

  He sounds a bit wounded, and I try to smooth things over. “I know you can. I can’t help but worry, it’s in my genes.”

  He chuckles. “Don’t worry about me. Have you eaten?”

  I nod.

  “Daddy, I know we talked about it on the phone, but can you explain to me again how this all happened? How JD got involved? I’m still a little confused.”

  “Me too. It all happened so fast. JD called us after he heard your mama was sick. Said he wanted to help, asked some questions, and told us he’d get back in touch in a day or two. He came by to see us the very next day, and we were on a plane to Houston the day after that. He made everything easy for us.”

  I can’t even begin to reconcile the man my father’s talking about with the one who showed up in my office, wanting to use me for sex. This JD, the one helping my mother, this is the one I knew. Except back then, he would have never demanded sex in payment for his kindness.

  “Your mother—she’s going to beat this.” He’s crying softly. “I know you don’t have much use for JD, but our faith was faltering, and he brought us hope. A miracle maybe.”

  I can’t stand to see him cry. I squeeze his hand. It’s smaller than I remember, and my heart clenches. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m so grateful JD got involved.”

  And while I’m standing there with my father, I mean every single word. I am grateful he got involved. Even if the terms are exorbitant.

  I ask a few questions, before it hits me—something he said earlier. My parents didn’t go to him, he went to them. “How did JD find out Mama was sick?”

  “Lally told him.”

  Lally. Of course. She knew about the bruises, too. Georgina and Lally were the only ones who knew about what happened. I bet she told JD all about Dean. The little traitor. She and I are going to have a little heart to heart when I get back to Charleston.

  My father hates when I ask about finances. In part, it’s a source of pride with him, but more than that, he isn’t very literate and only knows what my mother tells him. But we need to talk about it. “Is there enough money to pay for the treatment? And for living expenses? I heard you’re staying at a pretty swanky place.”

  “I don’t understand too much of it. Your mother—she’s always taken care of the finances.” I detect a bit of a bruised ego.

  “And you’ve always taken good care of Mama and me.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “JD didn’t want to add to your mother’s burden, so he made the arrangements for us. And his assistant Patrick took care of a lot of it too. Nice boy, Patrick. The money comes out of some kind of healthcare trust that even your mother doesn’t fully understand, and the hotel bill goes straight to him. We were embarrassed he put us in such a fancy place. Have you seen it?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet. But I’m staying there with you tonight.”

  “I got to hand it to him. JD calls every day to make sure we don’t need anything. He’s a busy man. But even when he was a kid he could do a dozen things all at the same time. Always been sharp, that one.”

  A busy man, indeed. “Is there a plan for paying him back?” I hold my breath, hoping for—I don’t really know what I’m hoping for. Answers. Just some answers.

  My father shrugs, and shakes his head. “When he called to tell us he found a specialist, your mother asked how much it was all going to cost. He told her she wasn’t to worry about the money. Said he has more money than he’ll ever need, and no one to leave it to. And he’s never forgotten how good she was to him and his brothers after their mother died. Said they wouldn’t have made it without her. He told your mama he was humbled by the opportunity to pay back a small portion of her kindness and generosity.”

  My head is spinning. I don’t understand any of this, and I’m at a loss for words. He goes out of his way to take care of my parents, then he comes to me for payment. Either he is the most conniving person to walk the earth, or it makes no sense.

  “Daddy would it be okay if I speak with the case manager to find out more information about the finances? I don’t want to run out of money at any point during the treatment.”

  “I would appreciate that, sweet pea. It would be one less thing to worry about. Your mother signed a bunch of papers. You can talk to anyone you want. The doctors, nurses. Anybody. Then maybe you can explain it to me. I’d like to understand it.”

  Mrs. Dupres is the case manager, but she’s off for a few days. I finally hunt down the person covering for her, Ms. Sanders, and she agrees to meet with me in her office. It takes me more than an hour, and a good deal of persistence to pin down the moving pieces. No wonder my father can’t figure any of it out.

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. Before I go back to Charleston, I want to know how the hospital bills are being paid. And if there’s an outstanding balance on my mother’s account.”

  She nods. “I understand. It’s hard to be so far away when a parent is hospitalized.” Ms. Sanders scrolls through her computer screen. “Okay, let’s see what we have here. It appears your mother’s care is being paid through a healthcare trust.”

  My father got that part right. “Is there enough money to cover the entire cost of the treatment?

  “There’s nearly three million dollars in the trust.”

  Oh my God. “Three million dollars?” I squeak. That can’t possibly be right. JD said the treatment could cost up to five hundred thousand dollars. “There must be some mistake.”

  “I don’t think so. The lawyers set it up. It’s pretty routine. But I’m not the case manager assigned to your mother, so let me take another peek to make sure I didn’t make a mistake.” She continues to scroll. “No. There’s no mistake. The money is to be used for healthcare and living expenses, the definition is loose. If something happens to Vivien Duval, William Duval is the beneficiary. If there is money left in the trust once they’re both deceased, Gabrielle Duval is the beneficiary of the trust. It’s an irrevocable trust. A couple pages, and the language is pretty basic.”

  Three million dollars? Maybe she has my mother confused with another patient. “Did Julian Wilder fund the trust?”

  “I’m not at liberty to share information about the trustee. I’ve probably already said more than I should. You can call the legal department on Monday for more information. They’ll be able to answer your questions about the trust.”

  An irrevocable trust. The hotel had been deeded to the city as part of a revocable trust, which is why they were able to dissolve the trust easily and sell the building without any issues. My lawyer had said if the trust had been irrevocable it would have been next to impossible. “Just one more question, please. You said it’s an irrevocable trust. Does that mean the trustee can’t change his mind?”

  “I’m not a lawyer, but I’m quite sure that’s what it means. The hospital lawyers look closely at these trusts. This is a very costly course of treatment, and it behooves no one to run out of money midway through. That’s just not how we do things here.”

  “Why so much money?” It’s a rhetorical question and I don’t expect an answer. Not from her, anyway.

  She shrugs. “For this type of treatment, we would normally require that a patient could demonstrate that they had a minimum of fifty thousand dollars at their disposal. He certainly was very generous.”

  My
mother’s awake when I get to her room, and she persuades my father to take a walk so we can have some time alone. I sit by the bed and hold her hand. It’s warm and has plenty of fight in it. When I think about the future the doctors in Charleston described—my father is right, if this treatment works, it will be nothing short of a miracle. We’ve been blessed. “Now that he’s gone, I want to know how you really feel.”

  My mother chuckles. “He’s worse than a mother hen sometimes. I’m fine. Just tired. Being in bed makes me feel old and tired. I need to keep moving. What about you? You okay?”

  “I’m just fine, now that I’m here with you.”

  “Your father told me about Dean. Tell me what you didn’t tell him.”

  I want to share everything with her, but then I remember I’m an adult, and she’s very ill. I’ll tell her one day, but not now. It would upset her too much to know Dean had been abusive. “He wasn’t the man I wanted to spend my life with. Deep down, I always knew it, but I’d given up on finding the perfect man. I’m not getting any younger, and I really want a family.” I smooth the bedsheet. “And I don’t want to end up alone. But in the end, all that wasn’t enough.”

  “Oh, Gabrielle.” She squeezes my hand. “You’re too young to settle. There’s plenty of time for babies in your future. I’ll be honest, I never thought he was good enough for my baby.”

  “You’d say that about anybody. What’s this?” I ask holding up an opaque glass spray bottle from the bedside stand. “Pretty bottle. Looks almost like sea glass.”

  “It’s a mixture of rosewater and rose oil to mist my hair with before I put on my scarf, so the air conditioning doesn’t dry it out.”

  I take the cap off and spray a little on my wrist. “Smells amazing.” I bet it would be great for dry skin too. I rub the oil into my arm and sniff. “Where did you find it?”

  “It was in a basket of toiletries they brought especially for me when I was admitted. This is some kind of VIP area of the hospital.”

  “And they know about black girl hair?”