by Liz Madrid
“Try selfish,” I say, “just like your own brother. Isn’t it the same thing? I can’t imagine why he hates you either, other than what you did regarding your mother’s shares.”
He lowers his hand but I keep my face turned up towards him, waiting for his answer.
“We’re just different,” Heath says, clenching his jaw as he continues. “He’s the golden child while I’m someone else’s son.”
“But he didn’t know that then,” I say slowly, “or did he?”
Heath shrugs. “Whether he knew it then or just recently, it doesn’t matter. It didn’t take a genius to know whom father favored above all his children, and whom he hated. Did you know she got carted to a mental institution because of me, not because she wanted to file for divorce?”
I shake my head, remembering when he first talked about his mother, noticing the way his body tenses as he speaks.
“That night when I overheard them, after she told him she wanted a divorce, he gave her two choices. Expose me as her bastard or get institutionalized. He was old-fashioned, my father. While he may not have believed that women had a say in many things, he believed in giving them choices, even if they were his choices.”
“If it weren’t for my Aunt Lorna rallying all the Ettingers to what was really happening behind closed doors, my mother would have lost everything — her mind, her access to her children, and every penny her grandfather made. But because of the trust funds her father had set up to benefit mostly her heirs, it was as good as untouchable for my father.”
The pain in his voice is so raw it makes my own throat tighten, threatening to steal the very air inside the room. “Why do you still call him your father?”
“Because old habits die hard,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He takes a deep breath and looks back out at the garden and the ocean.
“Aren’t you even curious who your real father is? Ethan said you were in those letters, too.”
“If my father really cared for me, then he would have come out of the woodwork by now,” he says, not looking at me. “But he hasn’t, has he? Not even after Edgar Kheiron died. So why should I bother?”
“You mean, you’re not the least bit curious?”
He exhales. “Of course, I am, but I have things to do, companies to run, a mother to care for. There’s even someone’s twin sister to get out of the way because she’s just an expendable pawn on someone’s else’s chess board.”
This time, he turns to look at me again, his brow furrowing. “You told me earlier that you’re done, that if Blythe really is guilty, you’ll just visit her in prison. But what if someone is using her, Billie? What if they’re taking advantage of her love for Ethan? After all, love is blind, isn’t it? Are you really going to say you’re done and leave — just like that, all because she went to Nevada City demanding the combination to the safe that holds her documents? Who then is throwing Blythe under the bus, Billie? Because it’s not me, and it’s certainly not Tyler,” I wince when he says Tyler’s name, remembering the words I said to her, about throwing Blythe under the corporate bus.
His phone beeps and he pulls it from his pocket, glancing at the message.
“That was Fred,” Heath says. “Blythe, Jackson and Charlene are back.”
“So she wasn’t hungover, like Richard said,” I say.
“Does it matter?” He shrugs. “Hungover or not, if she’s looking for her birth certificate and her old driver’s license, then she’s applying for a new passport to fly to Geneva. Maybe she could get away with your documents in Saint Lucia and California, just like you did with her documents, but not if she needs to get that money.”
“Or she could just ask me.”
Heath’s eyes narrow. “And will you give her back her passport and ID, Billie? Knowing what you know, and the possibility that she’s going to now commit an act of fraud by withdrawing the money? Will you still do it and then walk away? Done, like you said you were earlier?”
As if in answer to his question, my own phone rings and I snatch it from my pocket, my heart beating hard against my chest, my pulse thundering between my temples for it’s Blythe. I look up at Heath, panic written all over my face, but his expression has turned hard, far from the softness I had seen earlier.
“You’re either still in the game, Billie, or you’re not,” he says in a low voice. “Make your choice.”
“But if she’s guilty-”
“If she’s guilty, she goes to jail, plain and simple,” he says. “I can’t stop the law, but I can delay the charges. It’s not ethical nor legal, but sometimes, even those have to be put aside.”
The ringing stops, but then it rings again.
“Why are you helping me?” I ask.
“Do you have to ask?” he asks softly and the memory of his kiss on the beach returns, the butterflies in my belly starting up again.
I click Answer and turn away from Heath, my hands trembling. Whether Blythe is guilty or not, she’s still my twin sister, the Phoebe to my Hilairia. And I’ll buy her time, even if it ends up with a prison sentence, not just for her, but for both of us.
22
Wants
“How dare you show up at the afternoon tea pretending to be me!” Blythe begins her diatribe. Still, I can’t help but feel relieved, for Blythe is back in her usual form. “Now everyone’s thinking I’m cheating on Ethan with Heath, of all people.”
“Heath made sure to tell everyone my name, so it’s their problem if they refused to listen,” I say.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she says angrily, though her voice is low, like she’s talking in a hushed whisper. “The damage has been done, and even Ethan’s pissed off because he says you fooled him.”
“How on earth could I have possibly fooled Ethan when I was minding my own business,” I exclaim. “Now if he had bothered to see who he was kissing before he actually kissed me-”
“I don’t want to hear anymore.”
“Fine! People see only what they want to see, Blythe, just like you,” I continue. “Now, regarding your surprise visit to the shop where you managed to make my employees feel like your servants, if all you wanted was your passport so you can go to Geneva and collect your four million dollars, all you had to do was ask me.”
She scoffs. “God, Bee, what is this about Geneva and four million dollars that you keep harping about? I checked, alright? I don’t have four million dollars in my account, and if Ethan ever gave me anything close to that, it was a loan.”
“What for?”
“You’re not the only one who has dreams, alright? I’ve got dreams — if anyone bothered to listen to me and see what I can do instead of being just some decoration to put around Ethan’s arm. And that money he loaned me came with stipulations, even interest. So this four million dollars you keep on screaming about is not true, alright? Not true at all, and I’m tired of you always saying it,” she says. “Now can I just get my passport back?”
“No,” I say and I hear her gasp, “and you know why? Because I don’t care if you have no idea about the four million dollars being embezzled under your name. What I do know is that your name is on Swiss accounts that have four million dollars. Your name. And that Ethan’s flight plan includes Geneva right after the polo match.”
“If it is my name, then why hasn’t Ethan told me?”
“Because he doesn’t know,” I say through gritted teeth. I don’t understand why she refuses to see it. “But do you want to know who knows about it? Harris, Heath and Tyler. All members of the board and all of them, just waiting for you to show up in Geneva and…I don’t know, withdraw the money and buy whatever you want with it? Shoes maybe? But you showing up to withdraw that money, embezzled during a course of eight months, is all they need to put you away.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for a few moments. “I’ve only been seeing Ethan for six months, Bee,” she says in a whisper. “You said it’s been going on for eight months, so how can you assu
me it’s me?”
“I’m not! They are! And I’ve only been trying to tell you this since Saint Lucia,” I exclaim, running my fingers through my hair that’s grown stiff from being outdoors, whipped about by a stiff ocean breeze. “Now you could be flying to Geneva and getting married there for all I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that your name and your signature are on Swiss accounts bearing four million dollars of swindled funds – I saw the paperwork, Bee. They’re yours. And not only that, but everything you’ve had access so far — the penthouse, that gold card you keep flashing around — that’s from Kheiron Industries, not from Ethan. And maybe it’s an oversight, but as far as the board sees it, it’s embezzlement, the improper use of company funds to finance expenses that have nothing to do with the company. Can’t you get what I’m talking about, Blythe? Can you see what a shitload of trouble you’re in?”
There’s silence on her end of the line again, and I wonder if she hung up. I pull the phone away from my ear to check the display but see that she’s still there. When I return the phone to my ear, I hear the sound of water running, and her saying, I’ll be right out, darling.
“You’re asking me to believe you,” she says, “whatever this…thing you keep talking about. Embezzlement, fraud.”
“I didn’t just travel halfway around the world to say hello, Blythe. I’ve seen the documents-”
“Documents that Heath showed you,” she snaps. “Heath Kheiron, who I’m sure has told you that whatever is in those letters Ethan got from their mother must be lies.”
“No, he told me they are true. His father isn’t Edgar.”
“Oh,” she says, pausing. “So you’re asking me to take your word — no, Heath’s word — over Ethan’s? The same man who took his position as President of the company away from him.”
“The board took Ethan’s position away from him, Blythe, not Heath. But, yes, I’m asking you to take Heath’s word and mine over Ethan and everyone else on his team, Jackson, Charlene and Richard, until I get both of us out of here.”
“And where the hell do you think you’re going to take me?”
“Home,” I say softly, exhaustion causing my shoulders to slump forward as I gaze at my reflection in the mirror. “Just come home with me for awhile, Blythe. Whatever is going on between the brothers or their company, we can weather it from afar. Then when the dust settles, whoever wins or whatever happens, if Ethan really loves you, he’ll come back for you.”
There’s another long stretch of silence though I hear her moving around.
“You’re out of your fucking mind, you know that,” she mutters. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe such drivel. Even Richard told me today that you’re trying hard to look like me, act like me even. You’re just jealous of me, Bee. Jealous.”
I sigh, finally defeated. I don’t know what else to say to get it through her that she’s in trouble. I rub my temples, easing the headache that’s threatening to engulf me. Then I realize she’s talking again.
“My passport, Bee,” she says. “I want it.”
In the other room, I can see Heath pacing across the floor in front of the gas fireplace that’s unlit. He’s on the phone as well, speaking to someone. Worry is etched on his brow.
“If you want your passport that bad, then I want something for it,” I tell Blythe.
“Oh, please,” she groans. “What the hell do you want now?”
“I want the letters that Ethan stole from his mother,” I say. “Every single one of them. Tit for tat.”
“That’s ridiculous! You can’t do that,” she exclaims.
“I just did,” I say. “The letters, or you don’t get your passport and driver’s license back. You can apply for your own passport in San Francisco. Get Ethan and company to pull as many strings as they can to expedite it for all I care, but you’re not getting your documents back. Oh, and one more thing, you’re going to need your birth certificate and your old driver’s license to prove that it’s you at the passport office, so unless you plan to fly back to Nevada City, drill the floorboards and take the safe with you, then by all means, knock yourself out.”
“You’re a bitch, you know that,” Blythe says coldly.
“What can I say, Blythe? I learned from the best.”
* * *
When Heath knocks on my door, I’ve collected myself and greet him with a weak smile. As I slip my hands into my jeans, I realize too late that I’ve been tracking sand all over the suite and so has Heath.
“What did she say?” he asks.
“She wants her passport.”
“Are you going to give it to her?”
“Not yet,” I say. “She’ll call me when she gets me something I want.”
Heath’s eyes narrow. “What is it that you want?”
I shrug. “Just something I thought of that will hopefully delay any of her plans to leave the country.”
“But you won’t tell me what it is,” Heath says slowly. “I thought we’re in this together, Billie.”
“It’s just something between sisters, that’s all.”
“Billie-“
“Will you trust me on this?” I ask though I don’t wait for him to answer me. “Anyway, I don’t know if you’ve got other plans for the night, but I’m going to take a shower and just stay in.”
I zip open one my suitcases, looking for something to wear for bed, grimacing when I end up only pulling out a baby doll lace ensemble that I immediately tuck back into the assortment of clothes that Alicia packed for me. Goodness gracious! Did Alicia at least pack some t-shirts for me?
“There’s a charity ball tonight, but I wasn’t planning on going,” Heath says softly, and as I turn to look at him, I can’t help but notice how his eyes slowly travel from my face down to my feet. It’s a lazy gaze, and one that sends shivers running up and down my spine.
“Oh,” I mumble, my cheeks burning as I bundle a negligee and my toiletry bag under my arm and head to the bathroom. “Well, I’m going to hit the shower.”
By the time I finish my toilette half an hour later, I can honestly say I’m not in a good mood, not when the shower only ends up getting me more worked up than I already am. I’ve been flirting with a handsome man for the last 48 hours, maybe even more, and all I’ve gotten is a kiss that should have gone longer if not for one phone call after another.
I hate that I’m feeling like a kid denied her treat but I can’t help it. I wish I were like Blythe, so carefree and without a care in the world, even though the sensible part of me says that’s also the reason why she’s in a lot of trouble.
Heath is settled in one of the armchairs when I emerge from the bathroom, my negligee hidden beneath the hotel bathrobe and my damp hair wrapped in a towel.
“All yours,” I say as he folds the paper, sets it aside and gets up. I realize that I’ve never really seen any man as handsome as Heath before, and no man I’ve ever met before can hold a candle to my attraction to Heath’s handsome face and tall, lean frame, the muscles evident beneath the shirt he wears — not that I’ve been a lot of them.
When he brushes past me for I’m standing in the middle of the door, I realize I’ve probably been staring a little too long. He shuts the door and minutes later, I hear the shower running and I hurriedly dry my hair and pretend that I’m not as unaffected as I really am.
Half an hour later, I’ve pulled out the sofa bed and set the pillows and the spare blankets on top when Heath emerges from the bathroom wearing only a towel around his waist.
“Are you cold?” Heath asks as he sees me still wearing my thick hotel bathrobe. “Would you like to light the fireplace?”
“No, no I’m fine,” I say as he walks towards me, his hair still damp.
“You didn’t have to pull the sofa bed out, Billie. I could have done that.”
“I’ve decided to take the sofa bed and you can take the bed-“
“You’re doing no such thing,” Heath says, pulling me back to the bedroom. “You take
the bed and I’ll take the sofa.”
I don’t know why I’m so nervous all of a sudden, as if the touch of his hand is enough to set my nerves on fire. Not only that, but it’s like my mouth goes on auto-pilot.
“I…I just wanted to say thank you for this afternoon, for taking me to the beach so we could go horseback riding. I’ll be sore tomorrow but it was so worth it.”
He stops to stand right in front of me and I can feel my face burning, the blush beginning from my chest all the way to my face.
“And thank you for the dinner-”
“That was Lorna,” Heath says softly, still watching me and I focus my attention straight ahead of me, only it’s his bare chest, tanned and muscled and glistening with water from the shower. He smells of sandalwood, vetiver, and tonka bean, and the blend of notes make my nostrils flare. If not for all the essential oils I carry at the shop, I wouldn’t be able to tell one note from another, but it’s enough to send my libido on overdrive.
“Well, thank her, too, and Bob, as well. That was really nice of them to let us do that at such short notice,” I’m babbling now, my words tumbling from my mouth so fast I barely know what I’m saying. We already thanked Bob and Lorna, but I don’t know what else to say for Heath takes another step forward, closing the distance between us. “And I just loved Pie, and wasn’t your horse called Shadow? It’s a perfect-”
“You’re perfect, Billie,” Heath whispers as his hand moves up towards my face, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.
But if I’m supposed to take that as a hint, I don’t. It flies past me, my nervousness rising with each passing second even as the butterflies in my belly are fluttering like crazy, my knees feeling weak.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”