The window had cracked just enough at first to allow water to puddle on the marble floor. It was a wonder Andrea hadn’t fallen the first time she’d slipped. If she’d injured herself then, she might not have looked up. And even if she had, she might not have been able to move out of the way in time to see the heavy glass window falling from the sky toward her. She might easily have been killed.
An accident? Maybe.
Maybe not.
Suddenly Andrea’s concern for Mayela took on a whole new and ominous meaning. If a child had come running down that hallway, she would have undoubtedly slipped and fallen. She would have undoubtedly been lying there when the large sections of glass had broken loose.
Troy knelt and picked up a piece of the glass. The jagged point would have made a deadly weapon, and he hated to think what would have happened if Mayela had come along first. Or if Andrea hadn’t moved out of the way in time.
He looked down from the bridge to find Dorian and Robert watching him. They were both in robes. Robert held a drink in his hand, and Dorian had lit a cigarette. They looked nervous, Troy thought, as if they had something to hide.
“I’d like to see Mayela,” he told them.
“What on earth for?” Dorian asked coldly. “The child’s asleep.”
“She may have witnessed the accident.” Troy stood and brushed off his hands, his gaze lingering on the broken glass. Then he glanced down at Robert and Dorian, and his expression hardened. “I want to find out tonight, from her, exactly what she saw.”
* * *
WHEN TROY ARRIVED at the hospital the next morning, Andrea was already up, dressed and ready to go.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Not bad. A little sore.” She tentatively moved her left arm, which had taken the brunt of her fall. She was lucky she hadn’t broken it. Lucky she hadn’t broken her neck. “Did you see Mayela last night?”
“Yes. She seemed fine.”
“Thanks.” Andrea looked around, suddenly uneasy at the effect Troy’s presence was having on her. She felt more vulnerable this morning than she had in a very long time. He crossed the room to stand in front of her, and Andrea’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed up at him.
“I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to tell me the truth.” His eyes were dark and deep and more than a little suspicious.
Andrea swallowed. “What is it?”
“You don’t think what happened last night was an accident, do you?”
She shifted her gaze, unable to meet his eyes.
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“Don’t do what?”
“Look away from me. Try to hide your feelings from me. We’ve come too far for that, Andrea.”
They had come too far. Further than they’d had any right. That was the problem.
She sighed. “I don’t know if last night was an accident or not. I don’t have any proof that it wasn’t. No real proof,” she added softly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that…” She turned to the window and stared out. “Last night, before I fell, I was still looking up at the skylight. I could have sworn…”
“What?”
“I…thought I saw someone looking down at me.”
She waited for sounds of his disbelief, braced herself for his skepticism, but his explosion stunned her. “Why didn’t you tell me this last night?”
“Because I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Andrea said. She turned to face him. “Think about it, Troy. I’m not exactly the most credible witness right now.”
He started to argue with her, but stopped himself because there was merit in what she’d said, and they both knew it.
“You still should have told me,” he said. “How can I help you if you don’t level with me?”
“I’m sorry. But it all happened so fast, I couldn’t be sure of what I saw. I’m still not sure.”
“Well, one thing’s for damn sure,” Troy said grimly. He paced the room, deep in thought. “You can’t go back to that house. Not until we find out what the hell is going on.”
Andrea watched his every movement. “I have to go back,” she said. “I can’t leave Mayela there alone. She needs me.”
Troy glanced up, his expression dark. “Then get her out of that house, too. Bring her with you.”
“How? You’re a cop, Troy. You know there isn’t a judge in the world who would allow me to remove that child from her home in my present situation. I don’t have a choice. I have to stay there until…” Andrea trailed off, not wanting to mention her husband’s name, not wanting him to come between them once again.
But Troy had no such compunction. “Until what? Until Richard comes home?” He stopped his pacing and stared at her. “What happens when your husband does come home, Andrea?”
“What do you mean?”
His gaze deepened. “I mean what happens to us.”
“Troy—”
“Tell me something.” An angry glint appeared in his eyes. “How do you feel when you hear his name? What did you remember when you slept in his bed last night?”
Andrea knew that if she was smart, she would tell him it was none of his business. She would do nothing to add fuel to the fire that had ignited between them, but instead she said very softly, “I didn’t sleep in his bed last night. I slept in my own bed.”
Dead silence fell over the room.
Andrea released a long breath. “I don’t sleep with my husband. We have separate beds.”
Troy’s gaze was almost too intent to bear. “I find that very hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” Andrea whispered. “I don’t love him, Troy.”
“How can you know that? If you don’t remember him, how can you know that you don’t love him?”
“I don’t remember Mayela, either, but I know that I love her dearly.”
An emotion that might have been hope flickered in Troy’s dark eyes, but he quickly dashed it away by saying, “I think what you’re experiencing is an amnesia that’s even more selective than we first thought. Is it possible you’ve told yourself you don’t love him, made yourself believe it because of…us?”
“I don’t love him,” Andrea insisted. “And I didn’t marry him for his money.”
“I never said you did.”
“But you’ve thought it. You know you have, and I don’t blame you. I know how all this must look to you, but…I think I married Richard because of Mayela.”
“Mayela?”
Andrea nodded. “She said something last night that started me thinking. Richard isn’t home much. He travels all the time, and maybe after Christina died, he needed someone to take care of Mayela.”
“You were already taking care of her. You were her nanny.”
“I know, but maybe Richard thought she needed a mother.”
Troy still wasn’t convinced. “That doesn’t explain why you would agree to something so drastic, unless—”
She cut him off. “Unless I was getting something in return? But I was getting something. Don’t you see? I was getting Mayela. Maybe I needed her as much as she needed me. I don’t seem to have any other family.”
“It’s possible, I guess.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Hell, anything’s possible.”
“Then you believe me?”
“I believe it’s what you think,” he said carefully.
Not good enough. She wanted him convinced. She wanted him to believe wholeheartedly, as she did, that she had never been in love with Richard Malone, and that she wasn’t the type of woman who would have married him for his money. She wanted Troy to believe the best about her. It was the most important thing in the world to her at that moment. “I wasn’t in love with Richard,” she said almost desperately. “Because if I had been, I couldn’t feel the way I do about you.”
Troy didn’t say anything to that, but he took her hand and pulled her into his arms. They stood that way for a very long time, and
Andrea wasn’t sure if the embrace would have eventually led to more. If she would have had the willpower to stop him from kissing her.
She never had the chance to find out. She became aware of such a strong malevolent presence in the room with them, that at first she thought it might actually be Richard’s ghost. Then she looked up to see Paul Bellamy glaring at her from the doorway.
Troy saw him at the same time and released her, but he kept one arm around her waist.
Paul walked into the room, his handsome features like chiseled granite. “What’s going on in here?”
Andrea’s glance fell to the flowers he carried in one hand. White roses. Her favorite. “What are you doing here?” she asked, not liking the way Paul Bellamy was looking at her. Not liking the memory of his kiss.
“I heard about what happened last night from Dorian. I wanted to make sure you were all right. I can see that you are,” he said, tossing the roses onto her bed.
Andrea eased away from Troy’s arm and felt him stiffen beside her.
Andrea said weakly, “This is Paul Bellamy. He’s Richard’s partner.”
“I’m Sergeant Stoner,” Troy said. “HPD.” The two men didn’t shake hands.
“So you’re here in an official capacity?” Paul asked, but his eyes told them he already knew the answer.
Troy ignored the insinuation and the question. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, Mr. Bellamy, but you haven’t returned any of my phone calls.”
“I thought you were trying to get in touch with Richard,” Paul said, casting a meaningful glance at Andrea, as if to remind them just who Richard was.
“Your secretary said there’s no way to get in touch with him.”
“That’s right. There isn’t.”
“He doesn’t check in with the office?”
“No. That’s the whole point of his little trip. There’s no way any member of the group can contact civilization. They’re completely isolated.”
“So actually you have no way of knowing whether Richard is with the group or not,” Troy said. “Is that right?”
Paul Bellamy hesitated, as if caught off guard by the question. “Why wouldn’t he be with them? The whole thing was his idea.”
“Are you in charge of the company while he’s gone?”
“I’m the president and CFO,” Paul said. “But I really can’t see where all these questions are leading, Sergeant. Andrea had an unfortunate accident last night, but as I understand it, that’s all it was. Is there any reason why I can’t take her home this morning?”
“Maybe you should ask her that question,” Troy said.
Andrea felt both sets of male eyes on her, and she was about to inform them that she could find her own way home. But just then, Troy’s cellular phone rang, and he fished it out of his jacket pocket to flip it open. He turned his back to Andrea, but she heard him say his name into the phone. Then he listened for a moment and finished with a curt “I’ll be right there.”
He disconnected the phone and dropped it in his pocket as he turned back to Andrea. “I have to go.” There was a look of urgency in his eyes, and Andrea couldn’t help wondering what the call had been in reference to. Was it something to do with her?
A chill crept up her spine, and she shivered.
“You okay?” Troy asked, still gazing down at her.
Andrea nodded. “I’m fine.”
He seemed reluctant to leave. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, do something more, and for a moment, Andrea held her breath. Would he kiss her in front of Paul Bellamy?
A trace of regret flashed in Troy’s eyes. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. Then he brushed past Paul Bellamy and disappeared out the door.
* * *
AS IT TURNED OUT, Andrea was forced to accept a ride home with Paul after all. There seemed little point in calling a taxi when he was standing in the same room making the offer. Still, there was something about him that made Andrea extremely uncomfortable. She hated how he kept looking at her and the possessive way he took her arm to help her into his car.
Once they were on the road, Andrea stole a glance in his direction. He was very handsome, with finely molded features and a well-honed body that most women would admire, but there was nothing in the least appealing about him to Andrea. Instead, she found his excessive good looks a little unsettling, as if they disguised the real man beneath.
As if reading her thoughts, he flashed her a smile that should have ignited her pulse, but didn’t. Andrea turned to look out the window.
“You don’t have to keep pretending,” he said. “Not with me.”
Reluctantly Andrea turned to face him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“This memory thing. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but you don’t have to keep up the game with me.”
Andrea glared at him. “It’s not a game. I don’t remember you. I don’t remember anything about you.”
His features hardened, and suddenly he didn’t look handsome at all. “You expect me to believe that? After what we had?”
Her stomach tightened in fear. “We…had a relationship?”
Paul shot her a look. “You couldn’t have forgotten. There’s no way.”
Andrea didn’t think she wanted to hear any more, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from asking, “Was it…before….?”
One brow rose. “Before you married Richard? It started before.”
She looked at him in disgust. “You mean—”
“You really don’t remember, do you? I guess it wasn’t as good for you as it was for me.” He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that set Andrea’s stomach to churning.
She couldn’t stand to hear any more. She didn’t want to find out anything else about herself, about Paul Bellamy and about what had happened between them.
She’d convinced herself that what she felt for Troy was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. A pure and wonderful thing. The reason she could be married and have feelings for him was that what they felt for each other was so very special. Love at first sight.
But now the thought of her and Paul Bellamy…
Andrea’s skin crawled. Whether she’d loved Richard or not, she couldn’t stand the thought of having betrayed him, especially with a man she knew she couldn’t have been in love with.
She felt as if she’d betrayed Troy, too.
At that moment, Andrea hoped she never got her memory back. She hoped she never had to find out the kind of woman she’d been. Because what if she became her again?
Tears stung behind her lids, and she squeezed her eyes closed. But even as she tried to keep the memories at bay, one struggled frantically to get out. The image formed against Andrea’s will, and she was powerless to stop it.
She could see the anger in Paul’s eyes as he grabbed her arm and hauled her up against him. He kissed her roughly, and Andrea pulled away. She tried to slap him, but he caught her wrist and held it so tightly she cried out.
“I never thought you’d go through with it. I never thought you’d actually marry him. But now that you have, it’s only fair I get what I want.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Andrea said, her heart tripping with fear inside her. Paul Bellamy was a monster. He’d do anything to get what he wanted.
“I want what’s rightfully mine. You owe me, damn it. You’re nothing but a tease,” he said in contempt. “All these months you’ve been leading me on….”
“I never led you on,” Andrea whispered aloud.
He glanced at her and smiled as he pulled into the Malone driveway. “So you remember that little conversation we had at the reception, do you?”
Andrea felt chilled as she watched him. He stopped the car, cut the engine and turned to her, draping one arm over the steering wheel.
“What else do you remember, Andrea?”
“Nothing.” She edged toward the door, felt the handle against her side. “I just know I never led you on. We didn’t have a relationship. W
hy did you try to make me think we did?”
“Oh, we had a relationship, all right. And I’ll bet you remember a hell of a lot more about it than you’re letting on. Maybe all you need is something to jog your memory.”
Before Andrea had time to react, he reached for her, pulled her roughly against him and kissed her, just as he had once before. Andrea shuddered, but not in pleasure. Not with desire. She was frightened and disgusted and she wanted to claw his eyes out. She raked her fingernails down the side of his face, and Paul shoved her away.
“Damn you.” He put a hand to the angry red marks on his cheek. He looked furious enough to hit her, and Andrea jerked open the door and tumbled out. She fled up the steps to the front door, pushed it open and ran inside.
Dorian was just coming down the stairs. She paused, her gaze moving over Andrea’s shoulder. Her dark eyes narrowed as Paul Bellamy appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I drove Andrea home from the hospital.” Except for the scratches on his face, he might have stepped straight from the pages of GQ.
The scratches did not go unnoticed by Dorian. She took in Paul’s rigid demeanor, Andrea’s disheveled appearance, and a look of cold rage hardened her features.
“Where’s Mayela?” Andrea said stiffly. “I’d like to see her.”
“She’s already left for school,” Dorian said. “I drove her there myself.”
The thought of Mayela alone in a car with Dorian Andropoulos was unsettling. Andrea said, “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go up to my room.”
As Andrea passed her on the stairs, Dorian caught her arm. “Enjoy it while you can,” she said softly. “I have a feeling things are about to change around here.”
Andrea shrugged loose from the woman’s grip without reply. She had more to worry about than Dorian’s cryptic remarks.
At the top of the stairs, Andrea paused, gazing up at the skylight. The window had already been repaired, the glass swept up, the floor cleaned and, she suspected, the tree limb cut up and carted away. Someone had been very efficient this morning. If a crime had been committed, the evidence had all been cleared away. There was nothing left to remind Andrea that she had almost been killed last night.
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