by Sylvia Day
“I understand. Go ahead.”
“Lauren Kittrie was raised in a small town on the outskirts of Austin, Texas. Her family was poor. Her mother abandoned her and her twin sister with their father, who worked as a hand on a local ranch. He was a busy man, not much interested in or capable of raising two beautiful headstrong girls.”
Sitting back, I took a page from Eva’s book and tried to picture two teenage Monicas. The image was more than striking.
“As you can imagine,” he continued, “they got noticed. Toward the end of high school, they’d caught the attention of a group of wealthy college students from Austin. Punks, with a dangerous sense of entitlement. The leader was Jackson Tramell.”
I nodded. “She married him.”
“That was later,” he said flatly. “Lauren was savvy about men from the outset. She wanted out of the life her parents had, but she knew trouble when she saw it. She rebuffed him, many times. Her sister, Katherine, wasn’t as smart. She thought Tramell could be her ticket out.”
Unease caused me to sit back. “How much of this do I need to hear?”
“Against Lauren’s advice, Katherine went out with him. When she didn’t come home either that night or the next day, Lauren called the police. Katherine was discovered by a local farmer in his field, barely conscious thanks to a toxic combination of street drugs and alcohol. She’d been violently assaulted. Although it wasn’t proven, it was suspected that multiple individuals were involved.”
“Jesus.”
“Katherine was in bad shape,” Clancy went on. “The hallucinogenic drugs in her system combined with the physical trauma of gang rape caused permanent brain damage. She needed round-the-clock care for an indefinite period of time, something their father couldn’t afford.”
Restless, I went to the bar, then realized a drink was the last thing I wanted.
“Lauren went to the Tramells, confronted them about their son and what she suspected he’d done. He denied it and no one was able to prove a connection to him, owing to a lack of physical evidence at that time. But he saw an opportunity and took it. Lauren was the one he’d wanted, so he got his parents to cover the expenses of basic care for Katherine in return for Lauren herself and her silence about the assault.”
Turning to face him, I stared. Money could hide a multitude of sins. The fact that Stanton had effectively hidden Eva’s past with sealed court files and nondisclosure agreements proved that. But Nathan Barker’s father had let him pay for his crimes. The Tramells had gone out of their way to conceal their son’s.
Clancy straightened in his chair. “Jackson wanted sex. Lauren negotiated with his parents to secure marriage, which she thought would provide some sort of guarantee that Katherine would always be looked after.”
I changed my mind about the drink and filled a tumbler to the halfway point with scotch.
“For a span of months, the situation between Lauren and Jackson was stable. They lived—”
“Stable?” A harsh laugh tore at my throat. “She just about sold herself to the man who orchestrated the gang rape of her twin sister. My God …”
I tossed back the liquor.
Monica—or Lauren—had been stronger than any of us had given her credit for. But was it worth it to Eva to learn that, considering the horror of the rest of it?
“The situation was stable,” Clancy reiterated, “until she met Victor.”
I caught his gaze. Just when you thought a situation was as bad as it could be, there was always worse.
His jaw tightened. “She became pregnant with Eva. When Jackson found out the baby wasn’t his, he tried to take care of it—with his fists. Although they lived in his parents’ home, the older Tramells never interceded during arguments between the two. Lauren feared for the life of her child.”
“She shot him.” I ran my hands through my hair, wishing I could scrape the image out of my mind as easily. “The undetermined manner of death—she killed him.”
Clancy sat quietly, letting me absorb that revelation. I wasn’t the only one who’d killed to protect Eva.
I began to pace. “The Tramells helped Lauren get away with it. They had to. Why?”
“During the time Lauren was with Jackson, she quietly documented anything and everything she could use against him later. The Tramells valued their reputation—and the reputation of their debutante daughter, Monica—and they just wanted Lauren, and all the problems she’d caused, gone. Lauren left with the clothes on her back and the understanding that, moving forward, Katherine’s care was entirely her responsibility.”
“So it was all for nothing,” I muttered. “She was right where she started.”
Then all the information clicked into place. “Katherine’s still alive.”
Which explained Monica’s marriages to wealthy men and her preoccupation with money. All these years, she had to know how shallow her daughter thought she was, but she’d lived with it, instead of telling the truth.
Of course, I’d hoped Eva would never learn what I had done to Nathan. I feared she would think I was a monster.
Clancy rose swiftly to his feet, despite his bulk. “And as I mentioned at the outset, Katherine’s care is now your financial responsibility. Whether you disclose any of this to Eva is something you’ll have to weigh.”
I studied him. “Why are you trusting me with this?”
He straightened his jacket. “I saw you throw yourself over Eva when Hall opened fire. That, along with how you dealt with Barker, tells me you’ll do anything to protect her. If you think it’s in her best interests to know, you’ll tell her when the time is right.”
With a brusque nod of his head, he left the room.
I lingered, gathering my thoughts.
“Hey.”
Pivoting at the sound of Eva’s voice, I faced the doorway and watched her come toward me.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking starkly beautiful in a simple black dress. “I was looking all over for you. Clancy had to tell me where you were.”
“I had a drink,” I told her, giving her a partial truth.
“How many drinks?” The slight twinkle in her eye told me she wasn’t upset about it. “You’ve been in here awhile, ace. We have to take Dad to the airport.”
Startled, I glanced at my watch, realized I’d been lost in my own reflections for some time. It was an effort to come back to the present and stop mulling over Lauren’s tragic history. I couldn’t change the past.
But what I had to do was clear enough. I would see to her sister’s welfare. I would take care of her beloved daughter. In those ways, I would honor the woman Monica had been. And one day, if it seemed like the right thing to do, I’d introduce her to Eva.
“I love you,” I told my wife, taking her hand in mine.
“You okay?” she asked, knowing my moods so well.
“Yes.” I touched her cheek and gave her a soft smile. “Let’s go.”
Epilogue
“What an odd choice for a honeymoon hotel.”
I turn my head to find my mom stretched out on the lounger beside me on the deck. She’s wearing a purple bikini, her skin lightly tanned and firm, her nails painted an elegant nude.
Happiness fills me. I’m so glad to see her again.
“It’s a private joke,” I explain, taking in the view of the Pacific Ocean glittering beyond the emerald ribbon of forest in front of us. “I told Gideon I have a Tarzan fantasy, so he found us a luxury tree house.”
I’d been delighted when I first saw the hotel suite suspended high above the ground in the arms of an ancient banyan tree. The panoramic views from its deck are indescribably beautiful, something Gideon and I enjoy whenever we step outside our leafy bower.
“So you’re Jane …” My mother shakes her head. “I won’t even comment.”
I grin, glad I can still shock her speechless on occasion.
With a sigh, she leans her head back and closes her eyes, sunbathing. “I’m so glad your father has d
ecided to move to New York. It gives me peace of mind to know he’ll be there for you.”
“Yeah, well … I’m getting used to the idea.”
It’s harder accepting that my mom was a completely different person than who I’d thought she was. I debate bringing all of that up. I don’t want to mar the joy of spending time with her again. But her journal entries were written as letters to me and I can’t help the need to respond.
“I’ve been reading your diaries,” I say.
“I know.”
Her answer is casual. I feel anger and frustration but push them away. “Why didn’t you share any of your past with me before?”
“I meant to.” Her head turns toward me. “When you were little, I planned to one day. Then Nathan … happened, and you were recovering from that. And you met Gideon. I always thought there would be time.”
I know that’s not completely true. Life continues. Something would always serve as an excuse to wait longer. My mom hadn’t held out for a time when I could accept all she’d done for the sake of her sister; she’d waited until she could.
It took a strong woman to make the choices and take the actions she had. It was good to know that about her, but more so to understand the source of her fragility. My mother had been a woman tormented by the path her life had taken. Killing Jackson had haunted her, because she’d hated him so desperately and felt joy when he was dead, even as she felt horror for the murder itself.
Leaving my father behind had destroyed a vital part of her, as had living as if her sister, Katherine, didn’t exist. My mother had been separated from two pieces of her heart yet somehow managed to go on. Her overprotectiveness made sense to me now—she could not have imagined surviving if she lost me, too.
“Gideon says we’ll go see Katherine when we get back,” I tell her. “We’re thinking about moving her closer, so she can be part of our lives.” I’m bracing myself for that, knowing my aunt is my mother’s twin.
My mom looks at me with a sad smile. “She’ll be happy to see you. She’s been hearing about you for years.”
“Really?” I know from the journals that my mom could rarely see Katherine in person, since my mom’s husbands preferred to keep their lovely wife close. She’d had to settle for mailed letters and cards, since e-mails and calls left a trail.
“Of course. I can’t help but brag. I’m so proud of you.”
Tears fill my eyes.
She tilts her face up to the sun. “For so long, I was angry at the damage that had been done to Kathy—I never got back the sister I knew. But then I realized her mind protected her from that one night of hell. She doesn’t remember it. And as simple as her thoughts are now, she finds a childlike joy in everything.”
“We’ll take care of her,” I promise.
My mom holds out her hand and I take it. “Do tree houses have champagne?” she asks.
I laugh and squeeze her fingers. “Sure.”
I woke slowly, drifting lazily upward from the depths of sleep into full awareness. Dappled sunlight filtered through the mosquito netting cocooning the bed. I stretched, my arm sliding over to search for my husband, but he wasn’t lying beside me.
Instead, I found Gideon standing at the window in the rustic nook he was using as an office, talking on the phone. For a moment, I just soaked up the sight of him. Disheveled and unshaven, he was so totally sexy I could hardly stand it. The fact that Lucky sprawled at his feet only added to the yumminess.
Gideon was wearing nothing but shorts, with the zipper tugged up and the button undone so I could see that he was commando. It was about as far as he got when it came to dressing on our honeymoon. Some days, the only thing he wore was sweat, which looked and smelled so damn hot on him I made sure he worked up more of it.
As for me, I’d been surprised to find my packing augmented with a lot of strapless tube dresses and a noticeable lack of underwear. At any moment, I could find myself bent over, my skirt flipped up, and some part of my husband’s anatomy sliding into me. We’d been on our honeymoon for two weeks and in that time, Gideon had trained my body to anticipate his lust. He could arouse me in moments, satisfy us both nearly as quickly.
It was deliciously, insatiably hedonistic.
In between bouts of crazed monkey sex, we’d spent time talking and making plans for when we returned to the world. We watched movies and played card games, with Gideon teaching me how to play well. He did occasionally have to work and when he did, I read the diaries my mother left behind for me. It had taken him a couple of days to tell me about them, but when he did, it was the right time.
We talked about those a lot, too.
“The demand is unreasonable,” Gideon said into his phone, eyeing me in my short silk robe. “There’s wiggle room elsewhere. They need to be redirected to those fluid points.”
Blowing him a kiss, I backed out and headed to the kitchen.
I looked out onto the deck while the coffee brewed, at the copse of trees beyond that, and the ocean beyond that. Maybe we’d go to the beach today. We had a spot that was ours alone. For now, just being with each other was all we wanted.
A tingle raced down my spine as I heard Lucky’s paws hurrying across the hardwood floors. He would be following alongside Gideon, whom he worshipped. My husband was more than a little fond of Lucky, too. The nightmares were coming less and less frequently, but when they did, Lucky was handy to have around.
“Good morning,” Gideon murmured, his arms encircling me.
I leaned into him. “I think it’s technically afternoon.”
“We could go back to bed until evening,” he purred, nuzzling my neck.
“I can’t believe I haven’t bored you yet.”
“Angel, if you’re bored, I’ll put more back into it.”
I shivered at the image that came to mind with those words. Gideon was a vigorous lover on an average day. Since we’d been on our honeymoon, he had been even more so. I could swear his body was even more lean and ripped now than before, just from the exercise he got making love to me. Certainly I was happier with my body than I’d been in years.
“Who was on the phone?” I asked.
He took a deep breath. “My brother.”
“Really? Isn’t that the third time in the last couple of weeks?”
“Don’t be jealous. You’re much sexier than he is.”
I bumped him with my elbow.
Gideon had told me about Hugh’s files and that Chris had talked to Christopher. What was said during that conversation, we didn’t know. That was something private between father and son. But whatever it was, Christopher had e-mailed Gideon twice—three times now—asking for advice.
“Is it always business he wants to talk about?”
“Yeah, but the stuff he’s asking … He already knows the answer.”
“Anything personal?”
Gideon had been assured by Chris that nothing of his abuse had been relayed to his brother, and my husband wasn’t inclined to change that. Christopher had caused a lot of damage over the years, and without an apology, Gideon wasn’t writing a blank check of forgiveness any time soon.
He shrugged. “Are we having fun … How’s the weather … That sort of thing.”
“He’s reaching out in his own way, I guess.” I shrugged it off, too. “Wanna head down to the beach?”
“We could …”
Turning in his arms, I looked up at him. “Something else on your mind?”
“I’d like to run a couple of things by you before I put work aside for the day.”
“Okay. Let me caffeinate first.”
I was smiling as we fixed our coffee. Once we reached his office, he woke up his laptop.
The image on the screen was self-explanatory. I pulled out the chair and sat. “More GenTen creative?”
I’d seen a dozen different ad concepts so far. Some of the messaging was clever, some was too clever, and some was just pedestrian.
“Refinements to the last round,” he explai
ned, setting one hand on the back of the chair and the other on the desk, surrounding me with warm skin and delicious masculine scent. “And some new directions.”
Scrolling through the deck, I nodded at most, but one made me shake my head. “That’s a no.”
“I don’t like it, either,” Gideon agreed. “But why doesn’t it work for you?”
“I think it’s sending the wrong message. You know, the overwhelmed wife/mother/businesswoman can only find quiet time by distracting the family with the GenTen.” I looked at him. “Women are capable of wearing those various hats easily. Let’s show her playing the games with the family or enjoying the GenTen for herself.”
He nodded. “I said I wouldn’t ask again, but since we’re discussing women having it all … Are you still feeling good about leaving your job?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation before answering. “I still want to work,” I qualified, “and helping you with things you don’t need help with isn’t going to satisfy me for long. But we’ll find a place where I fit.”
His mouth quirked wryly. “I do appreciate your take or I wouldn’t ask for it.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” He swiped and tapped on the trackpad, bringing up a presentation. “These are a few of the projects currently taking priority. When you have time, look them over and let me know which ones interest you most.”
“They all interest you, right?”
“Of course.”
“Okay.” I’d make a few lists, order them by interest, and knowledge base, and skill set. Then cross-reference. Most important, I would discuss everything with Gideon. That was what I enjoyed most about sharing his work with him—exploring that fascinating razor-sharp mind of his.
“I don’t want to tie you down,” he said quietly, his hand moving to my shoulder and brushing down my arm. “I want you to soar.”
“I know, baby.” I caught his caressing hand and kissed the back of it. The sky was the limit with a husband who loved you like that.
The sun dipped below the edge of the horizon, setting fire to the ocean.