by Emma Slate
She felt guilty. It wasn’t rational, it was emotional. I understood that, better than most.
“You have nothing to be ashamed about,” I said. “Your feelings are your feelings.”
“That’s what my therapist said.”
“Therapist?”
“I was seeing a therapist back in Scotland—not in Dornoch,” she clarified.
“Which is why you were able to keep it a secret.”
“Yeah,” she said tiredly. “I like my life the way it is. I love Carys and I love that I don’t have to divide my time between children. I have enough time to be at the gallery and still feel like I’m not ignoring Duncan. If we had another baby, then…”
I smiled sadly. “Then your life would look kind of like mine.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.
“I know. But it’s true. I love my children, but I’m just now resurfacing. I just now feel like I’m getting me back. It’s okay, Ash. However you feel.”
“Thanks, Barrett,” she said, sounding relieved.
“Can I ask? Have you told Duncan yet?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“What if he gets mad? He wants more kids.” She bit down on her lip in worry.
I shrugged. “You won’t know until you talk about it. And I bet you, if you talk to Duncan, you won’t need a shrink to help you work out your feelings.”
“I went to a shrink because I wanted to talk to someone who didn’t know me. Who could be objective?”
“Sorry, I was trying to lighten the mood.”
“I know.”
“Did it work?”
“Kind of.” She smiled. “You mind if I step out and make a call?”
“You’re not calling Duncan and telling him all this now, are you?”
She laughed. “No. I just wanted to check in and see how Carys is doing.”
“We could just go back,” I suggested.
“You kidding? This is our last night in Vegas. I’m not letting you go home until dawn.”
Ash threw me a grin and then stood. She walked out of the lounge on steady legs, not at all appearing like she’d had too much to drink. Somehow, the woman could hold her liquor.
I sat by myself at the table, contemplating ordering another drink. I was coming down from being tipsy and I knew tiredness would set in, so I knew I had to keep going.
While I waited for the cocktail waitress to come around, I had a moment to study those that frequented the casino bar. There was the usual mix—those just out for a good time and then those that drank with obliteration in mind. Vegas, with all its bright lights and excitement, was actually depressing. You could be on top of the world and then, with the turn of a card, plummet into extreme hopelessness.
The waitress who had been taking care of us all evening came up to the table and set a glass of scotch in front of me.
“Oh, I didn’t order this.”
She smiled, showing white pearly teeth. “It’s from the gentleman at the bar.”
I looked around her to see Alessandro Filippi sitting at the bar, his dark brown curls resting casually against his forehead, his chocolately brown eyes glittering in the low light. He smiled when he saw me watching him.
“Thank you,” I told the cocktail waitress. She nodded and then moved along to another table.
With deliberate purpose, I rose slowly, picking up the glass of scotch. I approached Filippi, who angled his body towards me. I set the glass of scotch down in front of him.
“I can’t accept this.”
“Why not?” he wondered.
I stared at him for a long moment, holding his gaze. “What are you doing?”
He cocked his head to one side, showing off the strong lines of his neck. He smiled faintly. “I thought it was obvious.”
“I’m married.”
“Happily?”
“Yes, happily,” I snapped.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t look like that way to me.”
“And how did you ever come to that conclusion?”
Filippi paused. “Your husband hasn’t been honest with you.”
“And let me guess. You’re here to tell me what secrets Flynn has been hiding?”
“The night of the opening,” he began. “Did he leave the party to attend to something—someone—who was trying to ruin the evening?”
Cold fear washed down my back, but I somehow managed to keep my face passive. He grinned, but it was cruel and mocking.
“You don’t know anything, do you?” he pressed. “He flies across the world, spending months on end opening a new hotel, while you sit at home with his children.”
I refused to engage, refused to give him an answer that would only inflame the situation more. I believed Flynn, I trusted Flynn, but Filippi’s statement reached the part of me that I could no longer ignore.
The resentful part of me.
I’d given up a lot to be with Flynn, to make a family with him. I had been the one to stay home and be with the children. I didn’t even recognize the woman I’d become.
“How did you know?” I asked finally. “About the woman?”
“It’s my business to know,” he replied.
Who was this man? Mysterious, calculating, a dichotomy of charm and ruthlessness?
It had been so long since I’d had to be anything but Barrett Campbell, wife to Flynn, mother of his three children. But I was still a woman, and if I wanted information, I had to play the part. I was rusty at it, but hopefully, I still had weapons in my arsenal.
As I slid onto the stool next to him, I made sure my leg grazed his. Not enough for it to mean anything, but it was a shrewd move.
Filippi pushed the rejected glass of scotch towards me. I shook my head and pushed it away.
“You still won’t accept it?”
“I only accept drinks from those I trust, and I don’t trust you.”
Filippi let out a laugh, a genuine sound of amusement. “Smart.”
“Not really. It’s just common sense.”
“I’ve heard common sense isn’t so common.”
“I’ve heard that too.” I opened my clutch and pulled out my cell phone.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Texting Ash and telling her to take the driver and go back to The Rex,” I said honestly. I met his dark brown eyes. At one point in time, I might’ve found his penetrating gaze intriguing. Now I knew better. Filippi was a viper, dangerous because I didn’t know how or when he was going to strike.
I set my phone aside and turned back to the man whose leg was slowly inching towards mine.
“Start over?” I asked pleasantly, holding out my hand.
He grasped it, bringing it to his lips. “You are gorgeous.”
My smile was wide. “I know.”
Filippi let out a laugh as he boldly rested our entwined hands on his thigh.
“May I buy you a drink?” he asked.
“Maybe,” I allowed. “I still don’t accept drinks from strangers. And you’re still a stranger.”
He gently let go of my hand, but I continued to let it rest on his thigh. Filippi reached for his glass of clear liquid, which I assumed, was vodka. He handed it to me.
“What is it?” I asked with a delicate sniff. The intense aroma of citrus hit my nose. Curious, I took a tiny sip. It was candied sweetness with succulent citrus.
“Oh,” I said in surprise.
Filippi smiled. “It’s called Solerno. It’s made from Sicilian blood oranges.”
I looked at him with fresh eyes. Dark hair, dark eyes, his name. I pulled my hand back from his leg in sudden understanding. “You’re Italian.”
“I am.”
“You’re from New York.”
He smiled, showing his viper teeth. “Keep going. You’re almost there.”
“You’re the head of the Italian—”
“Barrett?” came Ash’s voice. “What the hell are you doing?”
Chapte
r 15
I jumped off the stool, grasped Ash’s elbow and tugged her a few feet from the bar. “It’s not what you think.”
She glared down at me. “Not what I think? I come back to find you with your hand on a man’s leg. A man who is not your husband. A man who is clearly stalking you.”
“Ash,” I begged. “Please trust me.”
“I think our evening has come to an end,” Filippi said, sidling up next to me. He handed me my clutch and cell phone. “Ladies. It’s been a pleasure.” With a cock of his head, he sauntered out of the lounge bar, leaving Ash to gape after him.
“What the fuck did I just miss?” she asked softly.
“Let’s get out of here.”
I dragged her out of the lounge and back into the noise of the casino, looking around to see if Filippi had disappeared. We had just been getting somewhere and Ash’s presence had derailed it.
“Didn’t you get my text?” I demanded when we finally made it out to the sidewalk. I’d forgotten to call our driver, so we stood there, two women dressed in bright sequined dresses, no doubt appearing like we were ready to party.
I pulled out my phone but before I could call Billy to swing by and get us, I noticed I had a text from a number I didn’t recognize.
We aren’t finished.
A shiver of fear worked its way down my spine. The buzz of Ash’s voice was in my ear and I finally turned to look at her. “What did you say?”
“I said that I didn’t get your text until I was already back at the lounge. Now it’s your turn to explain.”
Explain? Explain what, exactly? I didn’t even know what that was.
“Are you cheating on Flynn?” she demanded.
“No.”
“Didn’t look that way to me.”
“You’ve had a lot to drink,” I said. “You don’t know what you saw.”
“Don’t do that,” she commanded. “Don’t put this back on me. Just tell me.”
“Not here,” I said. “Not on the sidewalk and definitely not in the car.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
I nodded. I needed to confide in someone; I needed to talk this out with someone who wasn’t Flynn because he might flip out and do something drastic.
I got Billy on the phone and he said he was ten minutes away. When he pulled up to the curb, I opened the passenger door and waved Ash inside.
“Back to The Rex?” Billy asked.
“Uh, no,” I said, looking out the window, seeing the Eiffel Tower glowing against the sky. “Paris, please.” I looked at Ash who nodded.
“It’s been so long since I’ve been to Paris,” Ash joked, but it fell flat.
A few minutes later, the car dropped us off. Entering the lobby, I went right for the reservation desk, asking for a room for the night. The woman smiled and took my credit card before handing me a key and pointing towards the elevators.
“Why couldn’t we go back to The Rex?” Ash asked when we were zooming towards the fifteenth floor.
“Because I wanted privacy.”
“Ah,” Ash said.
The doors dinged open and we turned right. Walking down the long hallway, I found our room. I’d gotten a standard, nothing fancy. It was just so that Ash and I could sit and talk, no casino sounds around us, no other distractions.
She kicked off her heels and plopped down onto one of the beds and made herself comfortable. She took down her hair and ran her fingers through the curls that had been sprayed and shellacked.
“How drunk are you?” I asked.
“On a scale of one to shit-faced? I’m right on the verge of tipsy.”
I nodded. “Okay. Tipsy is okay.” I began to pace across the carpeted floor, trying to make order of the swirling thoughts in my mind.
“I guess I should start with the night of The Rex opening,” I began. I told Ash what I’d seen in the lobby, Flynn with the nameless woman who had tried to cause a scene, the familiarity between them that could be misinterpreted as more.
“What does that have to do with Filippi?” she asked.
“Filippi mentioned it in our conversation. He knew about it. Said Flynn wasn’t telling me the truth about who she was—that she wasn’t an angry ex-employee.”
“Then who was she?” Ash demanded. “Because she’s obviously important.”
“Don’t know. I might’ve been able to find out if you hadn’t—well, whatever, it’s done now.” I sighed.
“So, what was going on with you and Filippi? I saw your hand on his leg. Were you… ya know?”
“‘Ya know’?” I raised my eyebrows. “Care to explain that?”
“Were you doing what you know how to do? Enticing him, making him think he stood a chance if he gave you information?”
I went to my clutch and pulled out my cell phone. Opening it to the text from Filippi, I tossed the phone at Ash who read the screen.
“Oh, shit.”
“There’s more,” I said.
“Of course there is.” She looked at me and waited. “Well?”
“Alessandro Filippi is the head of the Italian Mafia in New York City.”
Ash’s eyes widened. “How?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought Flynn and Duncan took care of—”
“They did,” I said, my tone bleak.
“What’s Filippi’s end game?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does he want to kill Flynn?”
“I don’t know.”
After a stunned moment of silence, she said, “This was supposed to be a straightforward fun girls night out.”
“Yeah. It’s all been shot to shit, hasn’t it?”
“So what do we do?” Ash asked, her head stuck in in the minibar.
“We?”
She looked at me and frowned. “Of course we. Why not we?”
“You don’t have to get dragged into this,” I said. “You can stay out of it.”
“Like hell I can.” She opened a mini bottle of tequila and took a swig before offering it to me. “You need me, and we’re best friends.”
I took the mini bottle but didn’t drink yet. “I’ve put you in some untenable positions. Asking you to keep my confidence, telling you about some of the ugliest things I’ve ever done.”
My mind flashed back to my time with Dolinsky. I went from hostage to killer. And then in the basement of that house in Edinburgh with Fred Winters; I’d gone from killer to torturer.
“Barrett?” Ash asked, jarring me back into the present.
I washed down the memories with tequila. “I have to tell Flynn.”
“What are you going to tell him? Be on your guard? Filippi might want to kill you? He’s got a bodyguard. If Filippi wanted Flynn dead, wouldn’t there have already been an attempted hit?”
“It’s a conversation I want to have with him in person. And soon,” I said. “I don’t trust Filippi. He says I don’t know the truth about Flynn and that woman.”
“Do you believe him? Flynn?” she clarified.
“He didn’t cheat—but it was damning, the picture they made, from what I saw in the lobby. And I…” I trailed off, swallowing, “believed the worst in him. A would’ve forgiven him for it.”
“Because you love him,” she stated. “And one mistake shouldn’t be the reason you walk away.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “But he’s forgiven me a lot worse. Many times over. Could I have really punished him for being human?”
“Well, at least it’s not something you have to actually feel through, because Flynn didn’t cheat. Okay,” she said, switching gears, “what are we going to do about all of this? How are we going to find out who this woman is?”
“She’s not important right now. I need to know everything there is to know about Alessandro Filippi, and there’s only one person I trust to get me the information.”
“Who’s that?” she asked.
I grinned at her. “Your brother.”
Chapter 16
&nbs
p; I woke up the next morning completely confused. Looking around the bedroom, I saw Ash sprawled out on the other double bed and realized we were still in the Paris Hotel suite.
We’d fallen asleep sometime around dawn after invading the minibar and deciding not to call Jack until we were sober.
We were leaving Las Vegas today. We were supposed to fly back to Dornoch, but I was going to change the plan and meet Flynn in New York. We needed to talk face to face.
When I got out of the bathroom, I saw that Ash was awake. She smiled, but it turned into a wince. “I think I drank all the tequila in Las Vegas.”
“Not to mention you’d been downing apple martinis before that,” I pointed out. “Never mix your liquors.”
“My sorority sisters would be ashamed of me.” She sat up slowly, gathering her tangled hair into a messy bun, using the hotel pen to hold it in place.
“I was going to call Jack and then we should probably get back to The Rex,” I said.
“Good idea. I kind of forgot to text Duncan and tell him we were crashing here.”
“Think he’s worried?”
“Nah, he knew we planned to stay out all night. If anything, he can ask Billy what we were up to.”
“Poor Billy,” I said with a smile. “Probably asleep in the limo still waiting for us.”
“Let me just use the loo and then we can get out here.”
After I called Billy and woke him up, I called Jack’s cell and left a message. I shoved my feet into my heels and then I groaned in protest.
“Okay,” Ash said, coming out of the bathroom. “I’ve made myself look less raccoon.”
I laughed. “We look like we’re doing the walk of shame.”
We linked arms and headed out. A disheveled, wrinkled Billy met us when we got out of the hotel. I promised him a hot breakfast when we got back to The Rex. The drive was quiet, but at some point, Ash reached over to clasp my hand. She gave it a little squeeze, and I took comfort in her presence. She’d always been more sister than friend. I trusted her with my life, I trusted her with my secrets.
“I texted Duncan, but he hasn’t replied. He’s probably still asleep,” she said.
“I should call Evie and Jen. Tell them to make sure the boys are packed. I need to go to New York.”