“He’s been engaged before? She never mentioned it, but honestly, she hasn’t told me much about his personal life.”
I enter Alice’s full name at Google again, but this time I add the words “injuries from accident” after it. Since her family is well-known, a few articles appear.
Quadriplegic.
“Reese, can we talk in the kitchen?”
“Sure,” she replies before getting up from the couch. I follow her, and after she grabs a water from the refrigerator, she leans back against the counter next to it.
I’m on the other side of their island, staring at her. “Trav, we shouldn’t interfere. That’s not winning her over honestly.”
“Alice Sommerfeld was Clay’s fiancée eleven years ago. She fell off of a hotel balcony two weeks before she was to marry him. Conveniently he’s remained a bachelor all these years.
“Something is fishy about this whole situation. Maybe he plans for Becca to be his trophy wife and mother to his children, but secretly, he’s still in love with this Alice woman. I bet anything he’s in contact with her.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“Look,” I say as I walk over to her. I find the young image of Alice on my phone and stick the screen in front of Reese’s face. Her eyes widen.
“Shit, that woman looks identical to Becca.”
“Their resemblance is creepy shit. What if he has some obsession with Becca? I mean, she’s almost the age his fiancée was at the time of the accident.”
“OK, so they look alike, but it doesn’t mean Clay still speaks to this woman or has feelings for her. It doesn’t mean he isn’t in love with Becca, either. Hell, maybe Alice died.”
“I couldn’t find anything about her dying.”
Her hand grips my shoulder.
“I understand your urgency, Trav. You think if you research enough, you’ll uncover information that will make Clay go away. You’ll then protect Becca, and she’ll choose you.
“It’s similar to the desperation I felt while researching the money missing at Casteel. I thought if I dug and researched enough, I’d rule out Krystal’s deceit and protect Everett from pain, but the truth almost always come out.
“If Becca isn’t aware of Clay’s relationship with this woman, she’ll question him as soon as she sees the news reports.”
“Please, will you make sure she knows?”
“No, I won’t. We all have a past, and it’s possible Becca hasn’t shared the details of hers with Clay. Did you ever think about that?”
“No.” Hanging my head, I shove my phone back into my pocket.
“You might not see it now, but if she picks you because you told her this news, you’ll always doubt her love for you.”
Reese is right. Becca has to find her own way back to me, but if the information I found about Clay comes out again and hurts her, I’ll make him pay.
Becca
I would never tell Clay, but for the most part, the symphony was boring. Only one song stirred something in me, causing me to become teary-eyed.
While I was emotional, Clay handed me a handkerchief, and as I dabbed my eyes, I felt like Julia Roberts in the movie Pretty Woman. I’m wearing my elegant wine dress and dazzling necklace. I look like a princess.
“We’ll run by the apartment and change before we join my friends for cocktails,” Clay says as we ride in the car back to his place.
“You’re meeting Penelope, her husband John, and my good friend Harry. The four of us attended graduate school together.
“My pal Rudy is going to show his face, too, which is a rarity. He claims to hate the attention I draw. He’s with Secret Service, so I blame his disposition on that.” Clay lets out a clipped laugh, and his grin divulges his love for his friends.
“I hope they like me. You know, I’m a simple girl.”
“No, you’re a special girl, and of course they’ll like you.” Clay gazes at me silently for several seconds, his eyes filling with uncertainty.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I need to tell you something that might upset you. I don’t want it to spoil our night, but I imagine one of my friends will bring it up.”
“OK. Tell me.”
“We were on the news this evening. That call I stepped outside for during dinner was from my campaign manager. He said our serious conversation at the airport was taped from someone’s phone and sent to the press.”
“Oh, god, then Travis will know I’m here.”
Clay’s nostrils flare, his sharp inhale a hiss.
“That’s your first worry? Not the fact that our reputations are being tarnished. Someone’s going to give them your name, and then they’ll find our relationship even more interesting.”
“Why? Is it because I’m twenty-two? Or is because I work at Casteel and don’t come from a wealthy family?”
“Becca, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“The news media finds it fascinating that I don’t appear in public with women, so they’re hungry for every detail of the woman who’s holding my attention. As much as I don’t like it, they’re probably going to make a big deal over our age difference, too.”
Propping my elbow on the window seal, I rest my head over in my hand and slump down in my seat.
“Even after they questioned me at the hospital the first day we met, I never considered being in the limelight on a regular basis. I don’t want that in my life.”
“Then we have a serious problem. Being in the spotlight is necessary as a congressman. You shouldn’t be under scrutiny often, but it will happen. My family’s prosperity draws attention, as well.”
Out of frustration, he exhales loudly. “Christ, Rebecca, do you never watch television? You should know this.”
I lift and drop my hand back down in my lap.
“Oh, excuse me for not being that interested in politics. You knew this once we met, and don’t call me Rebecca. It makes you sound like a parent.”
“Fuck,” he exclaims before he slams his head back against the seat. “I said I didn’t want to argue with you. I’m trying my hardest here to open up to you and show you a good time. I feel like I’m losing this battle at every turn.”
Chapter Thirty
Becca
Clay holds open the door for me and takes my hand. Fortunately, I thought to bring a trendy outfit with me, so I’m in cute dark jeans that are snug at the ankle to give a clear view of my black spiked heels.
I have on a silky halter-neck blouse in a sexy blush color. Since my arms are bare and it’s early December, I’m wearing a short black jacket over it.
Clay doesn’t release my hand as we stride to a wooden door at a bar on 7th St. I’m eager to see what’s inside once I read the sign propped nearby instructing patrons to knock.
A gentleman opens it and then steps aside for us to enter. From the low-lighting, the room is dim, and the candles at each table give off a subdued orange glow.
A man waves us toward him, and while we stroll over, I take glimpses around the room. Instead of it feeling stuffy, the interior wooden and partially bricked walls give off a reserved vibe.
The bar itself has an old-fashioned look with a wooden counter and shelves of booze behind the bartender that reach the cherry crown molding above.
“Good evening, buddy,” a man says as he stands from a rectangular table.
“Harry, how have you been?” Clay shakes his hand and then nods to the other two men and one female at the table. “Everyone, this is Becca, my girlfriend.”
Clay’s hesitation at what to call me didn’t go unnoticed; not by me, anyway. “Becca, these are my friends Harry, Penelope, John and Rudy.” He’s pointing to each of them, who all grin back at me.
Clay pulls out a chair for me, so I sit between him and Rudy. John, Penelope and Harry are across from us, and I notice Penelope isn’t smiling any longer as she stares at me intently.
“I’m apologizing for our behavi
or in advance, Becca. We’ve got at least two drinks on you,” Harry says with a chuckle.
“I’m on my third,” Penelope interjects while holding up three fingers. She’s sitting directly across from me, still staring, but a smile fans out from her lips this time as she tucks a strand of her black bob behind her ear.
Her hazel eyes remind me of Clay’s and complement her green sweater. Her lips are plump and painted red tonight.
He mentioned that John is Penelope’s husband. He has golden blond hair and is more slender and taller than the other men. All of them are casually dressed, and this eases my nerves.
“Becca, we hear this is your first time in D.C.,” Harry says. His bald head, which I believe is bald by choice, is shining under the lights overhead, and I can’t help but notice how white his aligned teeth are.
“I can’t fathom coming here for the first time at our age,” Penelope chimes in before taking a drink of her martini.
“Well, Becca is not our age,” Clay replies. I turn my head his direction to see his expression. He’s smiling, but his eyes are conveying a warning to Penelope.
“Yes, I see she’s not. You’re quite beautiful, Becca,” she says, “and young,” she mumbles after.
“Thank you.” A waitress appears and takes our drink orders. I’m relieved to have the interruption.
“Do all of you live here in D.C.?” I ask.
“Unfortunately,” John replies. “We’re masochists, all of us finding our part in the political scene.”
Everyone laughs, including Rudy, who hasn’t spoken yet.
“It’s great you have close friends nearby to spend time with.”
“Yep, and we’re finally getting this one to partake,” Penelope says, tilting her drink toward Clay. Picking up her olives pierced with a toothpick, she drags them off with her mouth, eyeing him the entire time. “Although, it’s interesting the ways you’re moving on.”
“Penelope,” he says sternly. She shrugs. “Well, you’re becoming a congressman against your wishes, dating a much younger woman, who might I add looks shockingly familiar, and you’re putting on quite the show for the media.” She takes another drink.
Turning my head to him, I watch him glare at Penelope. I grip his chin and turn it my way so he can see my smug smile.
“Hmm … you don’t wish to be a congressman. It is interesting, seeing how this is the first I’m hearing of it. And what exactly are you moving on from, Clay?”
Penelope’s drink spits from her mouth and lands on her sweater.
“Shit.” She grabs a napkin and dabs the wet spots. “I better go to the restroom and clean up,” she adds.
“Yes, why don’t you leave, Penelope,” Clay sneers.
“I think I’ll join you.” I push back my chair, making a loud scraping noise in the process.
Marching away, I shoot Clay a dirty look over my shoulder. I follow Penelope down a long hallway and into the restroom.
We stand by the sink in silence. I apply more lipstick as she grabs paper towels and dabs at her sweater once more.
Gaining some nerve, I turn to her and plant a hand on my hip. “Did you have an issue with me before I even arrived this evening?”
Her eyes round. “No, and I apologize if it came across that way. Although, I did see you on television this evening, and the interaction between the two of you disturbed me.
“I’m protective of Clay, so it concerns me to already witness turmoil in your relationship. If it’s your doing, then yes, I’m going to be pissed.”
“We’re not in a relationship. We’re dating. There’s a difference.”
“Then you might want to spell that out for Clay because he’s told me otherwise.”
“What’s with the vague comments to him at the table?”
“Look, you’re not what I expected, but it’s nothing personal.”
I squint at her and think about what I should say next.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do I look like his ex-girlfriend Alice?”
“I can’t go there. Clay will be angry with me if I tell you about her, so can we go back to the table? I promise to be on my best behavior.”
“Please, Penelope. Just tell me if I look like her.”
“Sweetheart, you have no idea how much so. You’re the Alice I remember from over a decade ago. She’s a dear friend of mine, and I guess it’s why I have an attitude with Clay.
“Once Alice sees you on TV, if she hasn’t already, it will feel like a slap in the face to her.” She sighs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be saying this to you. It’s not my place, and I assure you it’s the alcohol talking.
“Please don’t mention our conversation to Clay. He’s a close friend, too, and I wouldn’t want him angry with me.”
Grabbing my hand, she gives a pouty face.
“Please …”
I gnaw on my lip, trying to weigh whether I can make that promise to her. I happen to favor an ex he had years ago. I mean, was he never supposed to date a blonde again? I’m assuming that’s one of the similarities.
The breakup was obviously painful for Clay, and after what I went through with Travis, I should respect that he doesn’t wish to discuss it. I need to let this go once and for all.
“OK. I won’t say a word.”
She broadcasts a happy grin and squeezes my hand.
“We’re going to have the best times together. I’ll live my lost youthful years vicariously through you.”
We return to the table, and every male appears tense. Clay takes a long drink of his scotch and turns to me.
“Should we leave?” he asks in my ear.
“No, but we’re having a conversation later about you running for congress.”
“Fair enough and I’m sorry. I should’ve discussed it with you, but I didn’t because in my mind it’s irrelevant. This is something my father expected from me, so I’m following through with it.”
“I guess there’s still a lot we don’t know about each other.”
“Clay, I want to apologize for my behavior. I blame it on Ms. Martini here.” Penelope’s holding up the fourth glass the waitress has set in front of her. “And her sisters.” She giggles and points to me. “Becca and I are going to become the best of friends, so you have nothing to worry about.”
“Baby, I don’t think that’s reassurance,” John says. “You’re not exactly the finest influence.”
She holds a finger over his lips. “You sure don’t mind my naughty behavior in the bedroom.”
“OK, time to call it a night,” he says, taking her drink out of her hand. They say their goodbyes and leave.
Things are much calmer and conversation lighter once Clay and I are alone with Rudy and Harry. Rudy moves to the other side of the table so we can view each other better, but he’s still a man of few words.
His cinnamon-colored hair is short like John’s and Clay’s, and it reminds me of the stark contrast between Clay’s world and Travis’s.
By midnight I’m exhausted, and my repeated yawns are no mask for it.
“Let’s get you home,” Clay says.
“Yes, I’m spent for the day, but it was well worth meeting you both.”
***
“Sweetheart, wake up,” Clay says to me. Opening my eyes, I see the driver has parked outside of the apartment.
Once we’re inside, I yawn again and unbuckle my heels, kicking them off afterward. I only had two glasses of wine, but after the long day and flying, I feel as if I drank five.
Without Clay even suggesting we go to bed, I trudge to the bedroom and find my pajama pants and tank top.
“I wasn’t thinking ahead when I chose to keep you out this late.” Clay’s leaning against the doorframe, watching me change. I glance up and he’s smirking.
It hits me what he’s hinting at. He believes I’m too tired for sex, which I am, and thank goodness he sees that because I don’t want to have another argument when I’m exhausted.
I guess we’ll have the discussion about not having sex tomorrow, when he comes on to me, which I imagine he’ll do before we leave for the airport. It’s not happening, but I do feel guilty after all he’s done for me today.
Covering me up in bed, he soon joins me. I can barely hold my eyes open, but there’s something still eating at me.
“In college, what did you really wish to be?” I mumble. Pulling me against his side, he places my hand on his chest and runs his fingers through my hair.
“I’ve never told a soul.”
“Then you don’t have to tell me.” It’s silent, and my eyes close. I’m beyond ready for sleep.
“A teacher. I love kids, and if I can’t have a houseful of them, then I’d love to at least teach them.”
I tense from his words and feel reenergized and anxious.
“You said you could wait years to have children. That’s not what your heart wants, yet you didn’t tell me, and you’re willing to sacrifice that for me.”
“Yes, I guess I am.”
“You shouldn’t do what others want, or say what they need to hear, so that you have their approval and are not left alone. Maybe I should feel special that you’ll sacrifice a slew of kids for me, but it only makes me sad.”
“You are special, and I am willing to make sacrifices to be with you.”
“You need to face it, Clay. Our age difference affects our future more than you care to admit.” Closing my eyes again, I sink down against the bed, hoping he’ll think I’m too tired to carry on this heavy conversation.
It’s one I’m sure he’ll only let rest for the night.
Chapter Thirty-One
Reese
Still finding Becca’s door closed at 1:00 p.m., I begin to worry about her. I go back to my office, but I can’t stop wondering how she’s doing, so before I even make it to my chair, I’m turning around, going back to her door to knock.
“Come in,” she says. Her eyes look up long enough to see it’s me, and then they go back to staring at her computer screen.
“You’re sure keeping to yourself these days.” I sit down in a chair at the front of her small desk.
Fail to Trust (The Casteel Trust Series Book 2) Page 19