by Cynthia Dane
“I knew that much. So she arranged the marriage?”
“No, his parents did, before they tragically died.” Whether Julia was moved by the passing of her in-laws was not certain. She probably never really met them. Either that or she hates all Monroes that she didn’t beget. “She saw it through, though. I don’t doubt that they had consulted her on the matter when the arrangement was initially made.”
“I see.” Alice’s wedding ring grazed Julia’s fingers. Her mother-in-law snatched her hand back. “Do you know anything about their relationship?”
“Whose? Clarise’s and Russell’s? Hm. I suppose it was fine. I never saw them together much. Why are you bringing her up? She died long ago.”
“Call it a hunch. I have a feeling she has to do with his extreme hatred toward women.”
“Ah. At least you call it what it is. So many people want to dance around that fact.”
“You really don’t know much about her?”
“All I know is that she was an extremely stern and powerful woman. She married into the family like you and I did, but she really had a head for the business. Some people say she ran the company in her first husband’s stead. Certainly, after he died she seemed capable enough to step right up and take control. Her second husband was a rather passive man. I don’t think she and Russell got along very well. He was a teenager when his parents died and Clarise resumed full control of the company.”
A controlling person raising the young Monroe heir alone? Sounds familiar. At least Alice understood where some of Russell’s tendencies came from. “Did she abuse him?”
Julia gasped. “I don’t think so!”
“You don’t know?”
“How could I? Russell has never been the type of man to open up to his own heart, let alone to another human being.”
It’s too convenient of an explanation anyway. Yet now Alice was convinced more than ever that Clarise had something to do with Russell’s reign of terror.
“Thank you for…”
Alice’s gratitude was cut off when a roar broke through the bedroom door left ajar.
“When I say I want to be left alone, you fucking leave me alone!”
Julia sucked in her breath. Alice remained still in her bed.
“Could you please bring me my cell phone? It’s in my purse.”
After Julia located the purse in a chair on the other side of the room, she reached in and drew out her daughter-in-law’s huge smartphone. Even from across the room Alice could see the royal purple case twinkling with bits of glitter in the soft light. I felt like such a college student buying that thing. In truth, Alice had wanted the lilac-colored phone case, but it felt too juvenile for a woman of her current business standing. She needed to be like her husband and have a dark case. She had compromised, however, by getting a glittery cover to smile at every time she saw it.
Alice wasn’t smiling now.
“Calm down. I’m fine,” she texted Monroe in the other room. “Come to me.”
Did he get her text? Or was he too busy raging at some poor person in the maw of the penthouse? Was it Lissa? One of the Clayborns? Alisha? More rage seeped through the walls. Every time Monroe cursed or slammed something, Julia shuddered, her own amber eyes glazing over in triggered memories.
“That is the emotion he keeps bottled inside,” Alice’s mother-in-law said with too much experience to back it up. “That comes straight from his father.”
Alice had held on to her response until now. “What an idiot.”
“Who?”
“Both of them.”
Julia stood from her seat when there was a lull in her son’s rage. “Excuse me,” she whispered. “I need some air.”
Alice didn’t say anything. She understood that Julia needed more than air. She needed some time alone with her terrible thoughts and memories. To Alice, her husband’s expression of misplaced anger was a nuisance that he would hopefully own up to when he calmed down. To Julia? She thinks she gave birth to another monster, doesn’t she? Alice continued to rub her abdomen. I won’t allow any monsters in my home.
The bedroom door flung open shortly after Julia disappeared through it. There was Monroe, his white shirt wrinkled and pants not faring much better. He’s been drinking. Alice steeled herself. That fucking whisky could be smelled a mile away.
She held out her hand to him. “Come here.”
He went, kneeling beside her, taking her hand and holding it to his cheek. His skin was so hot that it burned. My husband. Alice touched greasy hair that desperately needed the sweat washed out of it. Had he been crying? No, that would’ve been too healthy. Monroe was not raised to expel his emotions in a healthy way. He said so himself what felt so long ago now. He’s been through so much lately. The farther he delved into the world of his emotions, the more Alice needed to step up and be the rock he desperately desired.
“I love you,” she said, brushing her fingers against his ear. “I’m okay. It’s going to be okay.” Wasn’t that supposed to be his line?
“I’m so sorry.” Monroe balled up her hand and kissed every knuckle one at a time. “It’s all my fucking fault. Oh my God, Alice, I deserve to die!”
“What are you talking about?”
She met his reddened eyes. If he hasn’t been crying, he’s definitely been holding it back. With his mouth pointed toward her, however, all she smelled was the stench of alcohol. “This morning, when I made you have sex with me… I was too rough. I should’ve been gentle with you! I did it! I killed our baby!”
“First of all,” Alice’s words held a bite to them. “You didn’t make me do anything this morning. Are you crazy? Don’t insult me by implying I did not consent.”
“Yes, but…”
“Don’t, Damon. Don’t rewrite history so you’re the bad guy.” Alice finally said what she had been holding in for so many weeks. “You’re not your father, my love. If something bad happens, it’s not because you’re a sociopath who made it happen. You are not evil. Do you understand me? You did not cause this. Now look at me and acknowledge what I said.”
Monroe lifted his head again. There was that look she loved in his eyes. “I fight with that idea every day of my life, Alice. Ever since I realized what a piece of shit my father is, I’ve wondered if…”
“You are not your father. Repeat that.”
“I am not my father.”
Alice took his face into her hands. “You did not do anything wrong. We made love this morning. Rough love, but that didn’t do anything bad to me. Or our baby.”
“All right.” Was that a sigh of relief?
“I wouldn’t have married you if I thought you were anything like that terrible man. Besides,” Alice kissed the top of his head, “our baby is fine. I did not have a miscarriage. It’s a scare. I’m fine. You’ll see. In two or three more weeks I’ll be in the doctor’s office getting the good news. This baby is a fighter like us. It won’t leave us, especially when we need it the most.”
Monroe’s hand went to her thigh, rubbing it with scared conviction. “Are you sure? That was… so much blood.”
“I’m sure. Also, if you thought that was a lot of blood, you haven’t witnessed me on my period yet.” Alice laughed. “You’re not going to for at least a year at this rate.”
“Promise me, precious. Promise me we’ll have our own family this time next year.”
“I promise.” Alice pushed the wet hair out of his face. When was the last time he got a trim? “I don’t give up easily, like you don’t. We wouldn’t have made it this far if we let me falling down some stairs set us back.”
“Good to know I’m not the only one with some black humor around here.”
“I hear it’s the family color.”
Monroe stood, kissing Alice with such conviction that she easily slipped beneath him. Yes, Damon. Make me feel loved and protected. Change my world with one kiss. Want me so badly that you can’t control yourself.
She knew that he wanted her now. That quic
kening pulse, that heat emanating from his skin, and, yeah, that rock hard cock stirring in his pants all pointed to him wanting her. Yet he refrained. In the end, Monroe had plenty of self-control. Alice was yet again physically vulnerable. Possibly wounded. He would content himself with some kisses and heavy petting until he had to pull himself away to return some neglected phone calls.
He stopped halfway across the room.
“Ms. Clayborn.”
The assistant stood in the bedroom doorway. How much of that did she see? Based on her weary countenance, it had to be since the first heavy kiss of the night. Alice covered herself up with the blanket and cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion, Mr. and Mrs. Monroe.” Sarah Clayborn straightened out her gray pantsuit and fluffed her hair. “I simply came by to offer my condolences to Mrs. Monroe.”
Alice received a wary look from her husband. “It’s all right.” She beckoned for Ms. Clayborn to enter the bedroom. “Give us a moment, Damon.”
Monroe remained where he stood for a few more seconds before leaving in a swift motion. Ms. Clayborn stared at the space he once occupied. It wasn’t until Alice beckoned her again that she finally stepped forward with a submissive nod.
“I’m sorry about what happened to you today, ma’am.” Usually Ms. Clayborn did not struggle with eye contact. If anything, her idea of eye contact included staring people down until they recognized her for what she was: the head assistant of a ruthless billionaire. “I… well, I know it can’t be easy. I know how desperately you and Mr. Monroe want children.”
I bet you do. Probably have heard us fucking or smelled where we’ve had sex a hundred times by now. At least she was discreet. Not once had Alice been given reason to believe that Ms. Clayborn judged her, let alone spread some rumors around. “Thank you. It’s been a frightening day. I appreciate your concern.”
Ms. Clayborn finally made eye contact. Whoa. That was the most emotion Alice had ever seen on the young woman’s face. What was that? Pity? No. It wasn’t just pity.
It was pain.
“Sometimes,” Ms. Clayborn offered as her strange parting words, “men like the Monroes are so intent on their perfection that it carries on to their genes. I don’t want to frighten you, Mrs. Monroe. I intend to only help when I say that I hope this doesn’t happen again to you, but…”
Alice cut her off. “Miscarriages are unfortunately common.”
Sarah Clayborn swallowed. “Yes, ma’am. They unfortunately are.”
“You’ll be happy to know, though, that I am still pregnant.”
Now that surprised the young assistant. “Really? That’s good. I’m sorry I said anything.”
She turned to leave. Alice wasn’t about to let her get the last word. “Is there something else you want to tell me, Ms. Clayborn?”
From whom had she gained this gift of sweet talking? No, not that kind of sweet talking. Alice wasn’t that blessed. I really am a Monroe. Thoroughly, unequivocally a Monroe. With a few carefully controlled words, she could make someone like her husband’s assistant slowly turn back around with the palest face since a man lived on the moon.
“I don’t know what I would tell you, ma’am.”
“Nothing to do with my husband, I’m sure.” Alice had been waiting for this. Oh, she had no reason to believe that something went on between her husband and his assistant recently, but Alice was quite familiar with Monroe’s voracious sexual appetites by now. What was a man to do when alone with a young woman and no others around? Don’t tell me I’m jealous. I’m not.
Sarah Clayborn couldn’t look more irate if Alice told her she was as pretty as a pock-marked princess.
“There has never been anything between us. Ever.”
“Didn’t say there was.”
“You’ve changed.” That’s the last thing Ms. Clayborn said before leaving.
Alice knew that. She knew she had changed considerably since meeting Monroe, let alone since marrying him. But for Ms. Clayborn to throw a stinging remark like that at her? Alice had to have stung her first. Well, not like Alice wanted to think about it right now, anyway. What was that bullshit about being in the genes? That look on her face… that was pain all right. A pain that related to Alice’s current plight.
Oh.
Oh.
When Monroe came back into the bedroom, cleaned up and no longer stinking of alcohol, Alice was quick to ask an important question.
“Have you ever slept with Ms. Clayborn?”
“What?” Monroe dropped a pair of silk pajama bottoms from his slippery fingers. “No!”
“You sure? Never been so drunk together that something may have happened when sharing a hotel apartment?”
“What the fuck, Alice? Have I held back telling you that I’ve slept with someone yet?”
“No, but you might think that I think Ms. Clayborn is a threat.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Monroe pulled his shirt off. “I have no interest in her like that. I never have. Please. What is she telling you?”
“Nothing directly. Don’t worry about it. Forget I said anything. I’m sensitive right now.” That’s what Alice said as she looked away and stared out the window darkened with night. If my husband wasn’t the one she was talking about…
That only left one other man in the family. If Alice had something in her hand, she would have broken it.
This family was in dire need of a fuckin’ overhaul. Now.
Chapter 17
“You can’t go in with me,” Alice said to her assistant Tuesday afternoon. “Members only, or something. If I need any notes I’ll have to take my own.”
Alisha looked around the foyer of the country club’s main hall. “Guess I’ll amuse myself at the bar then.” She glanced at Dee. “What about her? They allow bodyguards into these meetings?”
Alice already counted two other bodyguards hanging outside the conference room door. “She’ll get to make some new friends, looks like.”
“Joy,” Dee muttered, following Alice to the other end of the hall. “These guys look Green Beret. You know what that does that to a seagirl like me?”
“Somehow you’ll survive.”
“I’m only saying, if you walk out of your meeting and see a bloodbath, I didn’t start it.”
“You finished it, right?”
“Oh hell yes I did.”
They exchanged girlish smiles before Alice acknowledge the doorman in front of the conference room. He nodded, scratched her name off a list, and admitted her to the Married Women’s Alliance.
The room was exactly what she already expected from a place like this high society country club. The views out of the large windows overlooked flat, glassy terrain dotted with croquet courses and horse riding trails. The encroaching (and immaculately groomed) forest and the faraway mountains created a picturesque landscape that Alice could easily slap on some postcards and sell by the thousands. Postcards were so below this audience, however.
“Oh, you came!” Lana Andrews stood from the large mahogany table and extended both hands to Alice. Grinning, she dumped her things in an empty chair and was instantly swept up in a womanly hug marked by huge breasts pressing against her tender ones and two kisses to her cheeks. You slept with my husband, slut. There. She got it out of her system. “I told you all that she would come,” Lana said to the rest of the table.
A dozen heads turned toward Alice. She only recognized Monica Warren, sitting on the other side of the table, but there were a few others she tangentially recognized from some functions and the tabloids. Of course, Alice knew a lot about them… on paper. She had been studying their dossiers for the past two weeks. Now it was time to take the biggest test of her career so far.
She was introduced to everyone, some women opting to shake her hand while others merely smiled in placation. Not everyone there was young. More than one woman sported white hair and crow’s feet proudly walking across her face. For the most part, however, the association was a smattering of wo
men from their late 20s to mid-40s. Lana was a good average to represent them all. I knew walking in here I was the baby. A baby they all wanted to know and love, she was sure. Thanks to her husband, of course.
I could be eighteen and they would have invited me here because Damon is my husband. Slowly, Alice was becoming acclimated to how powerful her new family was. The only thing was playing the part in front of these experienced wives of billionaires.
An older woman by the name of Charlene Fraser was the de facto president of the Alliance. She’s got a gavel and everything. Alice was glad she was sitting on the far end of the table where she didn’t have to get the brunt of that thwack! when the meeting was called to order.
Alice’s hand cramped as she took a million notes with pen and paper. Nobody else took as many notes as she did. To be fair, most of them probably didn’t care about Mrs. Fraser’s community garden project or Mrs. Warren’s future investments in adult entertainment. Enjoy your new porn making enterprise, Candice. Alice was amused, but most of the women at the table gritted their teeth and counted the Warren dollar signs dancing before them.
Community garden… adult entertainment… Alice had a damn pie chart going on in her Moleskin notebook. With any luck she would be able to read her own shorthand later when she typed these up into real notes she could reference.
“Now we’ve heard so much about you, Mrs. Monroe,” said Charlene Fraser toward the end of the hour. “We’d love to get to know you.”
“Please. Alice.” Not that she didn’t like being called Mrs. Monroe these days. “I’m not sure what to share about myself. I’m still terribly new to this whole thing. Every day is a new learning experience.”
“All the better for you to formally join our association. We have a mentorship program for those who qualify.”
Yes, and I’m sure you’d love to mentor me and my money. What did the Frasers do again? Investment funds? Quite frankly, Alice didn’t really care what the Frasers did. They owned no shares in Monroe Industries. Alice wasn’t looking to change that anytime soon.
“Mrs. Andrews had informed us that you’re already venturing into new enterprises with your maiden name. What was it, Lana? Culver Hospitality Handling?”