As he pulled up the zip of his trousers, Nick said, “Don’t tell me you’re getting ready to leave.” His face twisted into a scowl. The anger in his words confused me. Was he mad at me?
I slipped on my blouse and started to button it up. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get a taxi.”
“At this time of night? I don’t want you to go, Estelle. I want you to stay here and wait for me to return.”
“But you might be out all night. I’ll go home and when—”
A stormy cloud flashed across his face. “Will you do what you’re told or will you continue to be stubborn? Since I’m telling you that I want you to stay, then you’ll stay. What’s the problem? Ben won’t bother you. On the contrary, he’ll actually protect you.”
The last worry on mind was Ben. He was like a big child, after all.
“I don’t feel unsafe. I can take care of myself.” I have many years of experience in that. That thought saddened me, so I decided to quickly push it out of my mind. This wasn’t the time for self-pity.
Nick stopped getting dressed and ran the fingers of both his hands through his hair. “Dammit, Estelle. I’m not in the mood for arguments. You’re staying here. Period. I want to find you in my bed when I come back. Don’t make me worry about you too.”
His eyes showed a mixture of anger and sadness. I’d never seen him like this, so angry, but his behavior didn’t scare me because I could tell he was concerned about me.
I made a quick decision and replied, “Fine. I’ll stay here and wait for you to come back. Calm down.”
Surprisingly, Nick came over to me and hugged me tight. He wrapped one of his arms around my waist and dug his other hand into my hair. His mouth covered mine in a brief kiss. “You’re my greatest treasure.”
8
Nick
The police informed me that the entire air crew, along with Richard Carroll, had died in the crash. The only survivor was Jeremy West.
I found out the name of the hospital he’d been taken to and immediately went there to see his condition for myself. Jeremy was in very bad shape. He had numerous burns and broken bones, and there was no hope of saving his leg. Fortunately, recent medical advances meant it’d be possible to eliminate most of his burn scars. There had also been significant progress in the transplantation of legs and arms. Most likely, he wouldn’t remain disabled, but the operations he’d have to undergo were very serious.
I felt sorry for the boy. He was young, in the beginning of his prime, and should have been out enjoying life with his friends instead of lying in a hospital bed. But everyone had their own fate, and nobody had the power to change it.
When I came back home, I found Estelle asleep in my bed. With her silky brown hair spilled across the pillow, she looked very peaceful in her sleep, and I didn’t have the heart to wake her up. I could watch her for hours on end, admiring her smooth skin, long black eyelashes and soft lips, which I yearned to kiss. But I had to tell her about Jeremy. After all, he was her friend. She’d definitely want to know what had happened to him.
Leaning toward her, I inhaled her aroma. She smelled divinely of strawberries and flowers. I rubbed my nose against her cheek and whispered, “It’s me, honey.” I didn’t want to startle her.
She opened her beautiful violet-blue eyes, and my soul filled with feelings hitherto unknown to me. The feeling that something precious and dear was mine. I didn’t want to be apart from her anymore. I wanted to shield her from trouble, protect her from the evils of the world, and keep her just for me.
Her delicate hands covered my face. As my lips touched hers, my heartbeat quickened. How could she have such a powerful effect on me? I couldn’t explain why, but with Estelle, I felt better than with any other woman before her. With her, I felt my life was complete.
She interrupted our kiss and asked, “Say something, Nick. Tell me everything, please. Are there any survivors?” I knew she meant the crew and passengers of the crashed airplane.
“Jeremy West is the only survivor,” I whispered softly.
I couldn’t escape the dark suspicion that the crash had been intentional. But I couldn’t even begin to guess who could be behind it. My airplanes were new and always in perfect working order, and my pilots were some of the best in the industry. Nothing like that had ever happened before.
Never.
“Jeremy? What was Jeremy doing on the plane?” Her eyes filled with alarm. She pushed herself up, and the bed sheet slid down, revealing her gorgeous bare breasts.
Fuck, I have a hard-on again. This was a completely inappropriate time to think about sex, but she was so lovely. Estelle was like a goddess whom you could only stare at and admire.
I forced myself to stop thinking about her amazing body and replied, “Richard Carroll brought him along. He must’ve needed his help.”
“I need to see him right away.” She went to get up, but I stopped her. There was no point in our going to the hospital at this time of night. I’d already been there and taken care of everything that had needed doing.
“Let’s get a few hours of sleep first. I’m dead tired. We’ll visit him later. He’s probably sleeping and definitely needs the rest.” I didn’t want to mention his serious condition and worry her needlessly. We couldn’t do anything to help him. His parents were there and they were the only ones who had the right to see him at the moment. I’d assumed the liability for all medical costs related to his operations and recovery. That was the only way I could help him.
* * *
I didn’t know why, but I’d never liked hospitals. Nothing bad had happened to me and left bad memories in me, but it seemed that all those smells of medications, disinfectants, and blood sapped all my positive energy. So now, as I walked down the corridor to Jeremy West’s room, I felt tense.
Estelle intertwined her fingers with mine. Taking hold of the inside of my elbow with her other hand, she softly caressed me. She’d performed the same small gesture when we’d gone to visit my mother in the Swiss clinic. She’d detected the tension inside me and wanted to soothe me. At such times, I felt like I’d known her my whole life.
We knocked on Jeremy’s door and entered. His parents, whom I’d met last night, were inside.
“Dear God… That can’t be true,” Mrs. West squealed and put her hand on her lips. She was looking at Estelle as if she weren’t a person, but some miracle. “Stephen, tell me I’m not losing my mind.” She glanced at her husband in complete astonishment and continued, “Janet’s dead. And this can’t be her daughter. She’s also dead.”
This woman’s words completely threw me. Who the hell was she talking about? Was she going crazy from all the stress caused by her son’s misfortune?
Embracing Estelle, I pressed her against me. “What are you talking about, Mrs. West? Please be more specific.”
Jeremy’s mother took her cell phone out of the pocket of her jacket and started browsing through some photos.
“Here, look at this.” She passed me her cell. “Now tell me, doesn’t this girl look just like her?” she asked, pointing her chin toward Estelle. When I’d first met Mrs. West, she’d seemed very nice and sweet, but her current behavior was definitely starting to get on my nerves.
I apprehensively looked at the picture on the display and felt the blood instantly drain from my face. The woman on the screen bore a striking resemblance to Estelle. Only the color of her eyes was slightly different and her smile wasn’t quite as charming.
Who the hell was that woman?
“That’s my sister Janet,” Mrs. West explained. “She and her family died in a car crash in Australia more than twenty years ago. Their car hit another car head on and burst into flames…” Kimberley West paused to take a breath and stem the torrent of tears that was threatening to erupt from her eyes. After a brief silence, she continued her story. “She and her husband, Scott, together with their daughter, Estelle, who was only six months old, were on holiday—”
“Estelle?” I interrupted her, fe
eling completely confused. Could the identical names be all down to coincidence? How was it possible for her not to find out that her sister’s baby had survived?
I looked down at my girl, who was struggling to contain her tears. She rooted through her handbag and took out a small gold baby bracelet engraved with the name “Estelle” in a beautiful font.
“All I have left from my real parents is this bracelet,” she explained and handed it to Kimberley. “I was told they’d died in a car crash. But I never found out what they were called, where they were from, or whether I had any relatives. I tried to figure it out by myself, but it was too difficult. The people who raised me refused to help me or give me any information.” She bit her lips to stop them from trembling.
“I gave you this bracelet as a gift at your christening,” Kimberley explained, running her fingers along the fine chain. “I don’t understand why Dr. Klide told us you’d died.” She looked up at her husband, who shook his head in disapproval.
“They must’ve lied to us so they could adopt her without our knowledge.”
What the fuck? What was this entire mess? Until today, these people were strangers. And now what? It turns out they were her relatives? A thought popped into my head—to be completely sure, we needed to get a doctor to run some medical tests.
“Was the name of the doctor who told you everyone had died Mason Klide?” Estelle asked.
Mr. West scratched his head as he pondered the question. “I think so, but I’m not entirely sure. So many years have passed since then. But I’m certain his surname was Klide.”
Does this mean that the people who’d adopted her had engineered the entire thing? But how was it possible that nobody had grown suspicious of them and discovered the truth? There were so many questions I couldn’t answer.
“My resemblance to Janet is stunning.” Estelle was no less confused than me.
“Her husband, Scott, really insisted on their having a daughter who looked exactly like my sister. To be honest, I have no idea what they did to achieve that. I know medicine is very advanced now. They can change the sex of the embryo and God knows what else.” Mrs. West stopped for a moment to mentally travel back in time. “God, I’m so happy you’re alive, Estelle.”
“Will anyone spare some attention for me too?” Jeremy called out, making all of us turn our heads to him. He was very pale, with his right arm in a cast and his entire chest bandaged, probably due to the burns. He was extremely lucky that the flames hadn’t reached his face.
Estelle rushed to his bed and bent down to kiss him on the cheeks. I clenched my fists as a surge of jealousy engulfed me. I couldn’t stand seeing her kiss another man, but I had no right to forbid her from doing it. Especially given that the two of them were probably cousins.
“I lost my leg.” Jeremy’s words made Estelle burst into tears again.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured and put her delicate hands on his arm.
“Don’t cry, because you’ll make me cry as well, and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Mr. Frey.” He glanced at me nervously, letting me know that my presence was making him uncomfortable.
“I’ll give you some space. Estelle, I’ll wait for you in the car,” I informed her and left the room.
9
Estelle
Past
Only six months had passed since our wedding, but John had already completely changed the way he treated me. Very often he’d come home drunk and start an argument with me over the most trivial of things, such as why was his supper not hot enough, why had I smiled at the neighbor, why was I wearing a low-cut top and God knows what else… I sometimes thought he must derive some perverse pleasure from fighting with me and screaming in my face.
One day, as I was emptying the pockets of my husband’s pants before putting them in the wash, I found a receipt from a strip club. There was also a flyer, which detailed the services on offer at an event headlined by some porn star. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when I read that they intended to charge $200 for fifteen minutes of sex with the great porn star. I’d begun to suspect John was being unfaithful to me, and this confirmed my suspicions. With every passing day, my hopes of a better married life slowly evaporated. I wasn’t allowed to go out and have fun, whereas my husband did so whenever he felt like it.
Sometimes I asked myself if he was with me just because he was afraid of being alone. No matter how hard I tried to understand him, my efforts were doomed to fail, because John Chan was too secretive. I couldn’t peer into his soul, and perhaps that was for the best, because I was scared of what I might find out about him.
One lovely summer night, we went out to dinner with his friend and his wife. John treated me really nicely. He’d hugged me, paid me the attention I needed and even called me “darling.” But this was just a show for his friend Patrick and Patrick’s wife, Cecilia. Outward appearances were very important to John, and he wanted to present himself as the perfect husband. I enjoyed the respite from his usual self, hoping it promised some sort of a future for our marriage.
Stars twinkled in the sky like diamonds, and the air was cool and fresh. We laughed at the jokes Patrick dropped, one after the other, savoring the delicious food and the wonderful French red wine. At my husband’s insistence, I wore a pastel green dress. There were bruises on my neck, which I’d decided to hide with a purple silk shawl.
Four days ago, after his latest drunken spree, John had returned home and become angry with me yet again for my inability to get pregnant. He’d thrown me on the bed and raped me. Just like that… As if I was his possession and he could do whatever he wanted to me. He’d gripped my neck really hard until he’d become concerned he might kill me.
And he would’ve if he’d gone on for any longer.
In the morning, when he saw the marks he’d left, John started to apologize to me, promising this would never happen again. I believed him, because I was too stupid, young and naïve.
“To be honest, I can’t stand having something wrapped tight around my neck. This heat’s killing me and you’re wearing a shawl. How can you take it?” Cecilia’s question caught me off guard.
Why did she always have to ask questions? Of course, I was too hot, but I couldn’t take it off and bring shame to myself. I felt my face blush with embarrassment. I glanced at John, who was very good at hiding the truth and spinning tall tales. Fortunately, he rushed to answer before me, sparing me further discomfort.
“Estelle loves silk scarves. Right, darling? And this one really makes her beautiful eyes pop.” He leaned in and kissed me on the temple.
“Oh, John. You’re still like a teenager in love.” Cecilia’s musical laughter rang through the night air. She ran her fingers through her blonde hair and regarded us.
In love… My husband definitely didn’t know the meaning of that phrase. You don’t beat someone and force them to have sex if you truly love them.
“Wait a few years. We’ll revisit the issue then,” Patrick added and took a sip of his wine.
Cecilia fired an icy glance at him. “What are you trying to say? That you no longer feel anything for me?” Her thin lips curled down into a frown.
Her husband caressed her face and she melted at his touch. “Of course not, dear. I love you more than ever.”
For the rest of the night, Cecilia wouldn’t stop talking about their three kids. The subject of the conversation pained me, because the day before I’d been for a gynecological exam with John’s sister, who ran a private practice near our house. She’d told me I’d never be able to have my own children. The bad news had hit me like a massive rock. And now, hearing all those children-related stories, I felt crushed. I tried to soothe myself, that it was probably for the best. I couldn’t imagine letting my children suffer, but with a father like John Chan, that would be inevitable.
We parted from Cecilia and Patrick, having arranged to meet up again in two weeks. One of their sons was having a birthday party and they’d invited us to come
along.
While driving back to our house, John didn’t say a single word. He’d retreated into himself, and that was always a bad omen. I wondered if he was mad at me about something, afraid he’d take his anger out on me. At such times, I wanted to leave him, run far away, but didn’t know where or whom to run to. My husband was rich and had contacts both in the police and the judiciary. No matter where I hid, someone would find me.
On entering the house, John irritably slammed the front door behind him and went to pour himself a cognac. I approached him, wondering how to dissuade him from having a drink.
“It’s already too late. Let’s go to bed,” I asked him. I didn’t want him to drink to excess, because whenever he did that, he’d become aggressive and take it out on me.
He stared at me, menacingly narrowing his eyes. “You’re not letting your own husband have a drink to wind down, is that it? I’m not good enough for you, am I? You prefer Patrick, right? Admit it. That’s why you were smiling at him all night.”
I put my hand on his chest to calm him. He wasn’t himself and was talking nonsense. Patrick was a charming man, but I’d never dare flirt with him. I wasn’t that kind of person and didn’t see him like that anyway. I simply enjoyed being in his company, because he made a lot of jokes and was very funny, unlike my husband, who was always too serious.
“Please, John, you know I don’t feel anything for him,” I whispered, looking him in the eyes. I wanted him to understand that I was telling him the truth. For God’s sake, I’d never hit on a man in my life, not even once.
He grabbed me hard by the wrist. His fingers were gripping me so tight I thought he’d break a bone.
“It hurts. Don’t.”
“You want him, bitch. Don’t think you can fool me. You want him to fuck you, right? I’m not enough for you, is that it?” John hadn’t finished saying his words when he slapped my face so hard I collapsed on the floor. My head hit a nearby chest of drawers on the way down. Stars flashed before my eyes and then darkness fell as I slipped out of consciousness.
BETWEEN CLOUDS AND STARS: A Sexy Standalone Romance Page 6