Infamous

by Jane Porter

  It took over half the day to get there, and by the time they reached the hotel in downtown, the press had already gathered, their cameras and microphones set up.

  As they stepped from the warden’s Land Rover there was a cheer, and Daniel was among the first to rush toward them, welcoming them back.

  Daniel hugged both. “This is a miracle,” he said, wrapping an arm around Alexandra and facing Wolf. “This is better than the best possible scenario.” He grinned, but you could see the fatigue etched in deep lines near his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever prayed that much in my life.”

  Wolf clapped a hand on Daniel’s back. “We’re good, we’re fine. Alexandra was a champ.”

  Daniel shook his head, still overcome. “Joy was hysterical when you didn’t return. She feared the worst, but I was sure that you’d make it through somehow. Thank God I was right.”

  Daniel turned to Wolf, clapped him hard on the back. “My God, am I glad to see you. You can’t imagine the chaos or the media frenzy. The studio in Hollywood has been overwhelmed with calls from media all over the world. Reporters and photographers have been rushing to Lusaka from nearly every continent. It’s been utter chaos.”

  Wolf nodded. “Then let’s get this press conference over and done with. We’re hungry and thirsty and Alexandra’s going to want to call her family soon.”

  Daniel nodded agreement and the three of them approached the makeshift podium where dozens of microphones had been set up. As Daniel made a brief introduction, Alexandra stood behind Wolf, her gaze skimming the crowd of journalists and cameramen.

  Then it was Wolf’s turn to talk, and he told them about the plane and what he believed caused the crash. He described their two and a half days roughing it in the South Luangwa National Park before being discovered earlier that morning by one of the park wardens.

  While Wolf gave them dry details about their stay, information about survival and practical details about food, water and shelter, she recalled something entirely different.

  She remembered the deepness of the night, the vastness of the velvet-black sky, the glitter of stars overhead.

  She remembered the warmth of Wolf sleeping next to her, his arm curved protectively around her.

  She remembered the feel of his hard body on hers, covering her, filling her.

  She remembered tenderness. Hunger. Peace.

  She remembered love.

  Alexandra swallowed around the thickness lodging in her throat.

  She’d fallen in love with him before they’d ever arrived in Africa, but there, in the South Luangwa National Park, she’d loved him. The depth of her feelings for him stunned her, terrified her, left her breathless, speechless. Somehow she’d become his real wife.

  Wolf finished speaking, and the crowd of reporters erupted into a frenzy of sound, each journalist shouting to be heard over the other.

  “Wolf, did you encounter any animals?”

  “What exactly did you eat, Mr. Kerrick?”

  “How did you and Mrs. Kerrick manage the extreme heat in the middle of the day?”

  “A question for your bride, Wolf. Will you let her speak?”

  Wolf turned to Alexandra, extended a hand, encouraging her to join him at the microphones.

  Nervously she took his hand and moved to stand beside him. She was trembling—nerves, relief, exhaustion—as she stepped next to Wolf and she feared doing something foolish, embarrassing them both somehow.

  But then his arm circled her, his hand resting lightly on her hip, and she was immediately reassured. Calmed. He applied no pressure to her hip, but his touch, his skin was warm and it soothed her. Just being near him she knew that everything would be okay.

  But that’s how he’d always made her feel.

  Even in the beginning. She hadn’t wanted to pretend, but Wolf was so magnetic, so compelling, so reassuring that she’d agreed to the part, agreed to the deal.

  Crazy. Ridiculous. Miraculous.

  She glanced up, looked into his face, seeing the beautifully savage features that made him the world’s favorite star. But he wasn’t an actor to her. Wasn’t a film star or matinee idol. He was just Wolf.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a delicious Irish murmur of sound.

  She nodded and, biting her lower lip, realized she meant it. She was okay. Wolf made everything okay.

  “How did Wolf handle the crisis, Alexandra?” a reporter shouted.

  She looked at Wolf, smiled. “Fine. Better than I did.”

  “And what did you eat?”

  She leaned toward the microphones. “The lodge had sent us with a picnic lunch. It was pretty hearty and we rationed that over the next couple of days.”

  “Did you plan this, Wolf? Honeymooning on location, plane crash with new bride? Great media news story …”

  Wolf laughed wearily. “No. I almost wish I had. It’s a good one, isn’t it?”

  “But that’s not exactly true, Wolf.” It was Joy who interrupted. Her voice carried, immediately quieting the crowd. Everyone turned to look at her. She’d found a microphone and was standing off to the side. “Meeting and marrying Alexandra Shanahan was a publicity stunt. He did it to end speculation about our relationship.”

  “Joy.” Wolf shook his head, issuing a warning. “No.”

  She gave him a small, sad smile. “This has to be told, Wolf, it’s the only way. The only way you can ever hope to be free.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “He never intended to marry Alexandra. He never imagined it’d get that far. But when she got sick, Wolf’s such a gentleman he did what he thought was the right thing. He married her. But, Wolf, it’s not a real marriage. I know you don’t love her. I know you just did this for me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE PRESS HAD A FIELD day with that one. Talk about tabloid news. Photos were snapped and headlines scribbled and captions created … all while Alexandra stood at the podium, staring aghast at Wolf.

  Was Joy right? Was what she’d just said true?

  Even as reporters erupted in shouts, Wolf grabbed Alexandra’s hand and hustled her away from the pandemonium and into the hotel, where a suite had been reserved for them.

  It was the royal suite, the hotel day manager said, handing them the keys, in honor of their esteemed guests. But Wolf barely answered and Alexandra was downright catatonic.

  On the top floor, in their room, Wolf made Alexandra sit. “Listen to me,” he said roughly. “I will tell you this one time and I need you to listen and believe me.” His accent deepened, growing more pronounced with his exhaustion and stress.

  “There is nothing between Joy and me. We’re friends,” he continued. “Only friends. People have always made it out to be more, but that’s because people have an insatiable need for scandal.”

  “But Joy said—”

  “I don’t care what Joy said. I’m telling you the truth. And it’s me you need to believe. I’m your husband. I’m the one you turn to when you need something, when you doubt, when you question sanity. It’s me. Understand?”

  Her lower lip trembled and she bit into it ruthlessly, biting down so hard she tasted blood.

  “Joy’s not a happy person,” Wolf continued. “She’s struggled for years with booze and pills and bouts of depression. Try to realize she’s suffering right now and anything she says or does is because she’s in pain.”

  Alexandra covered her face to keep him from seeing how his words hurt. She knew he thought he was helping. She knew he thought he was making everything clear. But he didn’t realize a woman wanted more than a sexually faithful husband. A woman needed her man to be emotionally faithful, too.

  Wolf crouched in front of her and pulled her hands away from her face. “Why are you crying?”

  “Because I’m afraid.”

  His dark eyes were tormented. “Of what? Me?”

  And then the tears fell. Because she wasn’t afraid of him, not physically, but she was afraid he’d never give her what she needed most. “I can’t comp
ete for you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “But I feel like I do. I feel like I could lose you any moment.”

  He let her go then and slowly stood. “If you feel that way, you’ll make it happen. You will lose me because you’ll think it into reality.”

  She reached out for him, hands up, pleading. “Am I not here? Am I not saying Wolf, help me make this work?”

  “Listen to me, Alexandra. I am here and I want to make this work, too.” He returned to her, pulled her up into his arms and stroked her wet cheeks with his thumbs. “You’re not alone in this.” His voice fell, deepened. He touched his mouth to hers. “I want to be with you.”

  And when they made love, it was so good and so tender and so raw and real it hurt.

  Wolf was right for her in so many ways. Wolf was everything she’d ever wanted in a man. But still a small part of her was afraid. She could fight Joy when it was the two of them, Alexandra and Wolf. But when Wolf went through the door, he was out there on his own.

  And maybe that’s what she feared. His judgment. His inability to take a stand, a side.

  Her side.

  Lying next to Wolf, she watched him sleep, his impossibly thick lashes like ebony crescents on his cheeks.

  Tomorrow he’d go back to work, and then what?

  But they woke the next day to even more bad news.

  The producers pulled the plug on the film. They were ordering all crew and cast back home.

  There’d been problems with the project from the beginning, but Joy’s highly televised outburst was the final straw. Alexandra tried to talk about it with Wolf, but he just shook his head, unable to communicate.

  They spent the afternoon killing time, sightseeing in Lusaka. And then the next morning Alexandra and Wolf boarded the British Airways jet and headed home.

  Back in California they returned to Wolf’s Malibu house. After Africa, the house felt strange, too big, too new, too modern. But they hadn’t been home even a day before Joy started calling.

  Alexandra told herself they were just phone calls. She told herself to let it go, not to care. She remembered Wolf’s explanations, remembered how he’d seemed sincere, and it worked. At first.

  But the phone calls didn’t stop. She’d phone him on his mobile or at the house and she’d be crying. She’d be inconsolable. Wolf would take the phone into his office at the back of the house and have endless conversations with her.

  Wolf told Alexandra that Joy was upset about the film being shelved. She was worried she’d alienated them. She worried that the public blamed her for any problems in Wolf and Alexandra’s marriage.

  It was always on the tip of Alexandra’s tongue to say, “Yes, she does cause problems.” But she knew it’d only antagonize Wolf, so she bit her tongue and didn’t complain.

  But the weeks passed and the calls continued and Wolf grew more distracted. They still made love, but in some ways Wolf wasn’t quite there anymore. It wasn’t that the pleasure was gone, but the emotional intensity had changed. Faded.

  And it tormented her, it really did.

  After making love one night, Wolf fell into an immediate deep sleep, and after lying there sleepless, Alexandra finally got up. She went to the kitchen to get something to eat, and Wolf’s mobile phone was there on the counter. She hated this phone, she thought. It might as well be Joy’s phone.

  Glancing down, she saw he had a missed call.

  Joy, probably.

  And suddenly desperate to know just how bad this was, Alexandra clicked on his phone’s call list and scanned through the incoming calls from just today. New York, New York, New York, all the same number. Joy’s number.

  She scrolled down through the entire in-box. Joy. Joy. Joy. Joy.

  She clicked on his out-box, checked numbers dialed.

  Joy. Joy. Joy. Joy.

  Covering her mouth, she sat down on a stool at the counter and tried to keep her scream from coming out.

  She was losing him. She was losing him and she couldn’t seem to stop it, change it, do anything about it.

  “Alexandra.” It was Wolf standing in the kitchen doorway.

  She couldn’t even turn to look at him or he’d see the suffering in her face. “I think we’re in trouble here, Wolf. Things aren’t going so well.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head and pushed his phone back and forth on the counter. “Talking’s not helping. In fact, when you and I talk, things just seem to get worse.”

  He cleared his throat. “In bed, earlier, everything was fine.”

  She almost laughed. In bed. Of course a man would think that way. And then she closed her eyes to keep the hurt in. “I’m running out of steam, Wolf. I’m thinking this isn’t going the way it needs to go.” She swallowed around the lump filling her throat. “Not for me. Nor you.”

  “It has been hard, Alex. But it’ll get easier soon.”

  “Why? Is Joy seeing a doctor? Taking a new antidepressant? What makes you think any of this will ever change?”

  “She’s working to fix her problems, yes.”

  Alexandra slammed her hands onto the counter. “But aren’t we all? My God, Wolf, what about me? Can’t you see I’m having problems? Can’t you see I’m hurt? Can’t you see I need you, too? Maybe even need you more?”

  “Alex.”

  “No.” She dashed away the tears. “Please, please don’t do that anymore. Don’t sigh like I’m the difficult one. Don’t make me feel like I’m being unreasonable to want to have my husband’s attention.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, you have me?”

  “All right, then answer me this.” She balled her fist against the cool counter. “If Joy called you tomorrow and said she needed you, you’d go.” She lifted her head, looked at him. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “I’d help any friend that needed me.”

  “Then help me,” she whispered, her gaze holding his. “Pick me.”

  He’d frozen in place. She hadn’t said the actual words yet, hadn’t even planned on saying the words, but suddenly it was there, the nuance.

  She was about to draw the battle lines. Demand his loyalty. Define the boundaries.

  “What are you saying?” he asked, expression shuttered.

  What was she saying? she wondered. Did she really know what she was saying? Her thoughts spun. She struggled to gain control before the situation got out of hand. She was tired, worn down, emotional. Did she really want to do this now?

  “Alexandra?” he prompted.

  “Maybe it’s time we settled things once and for all,” she said, so cold on the inside that she felt like a puppet, oddly detached. “Maybe we should just say what needs to be said.”

  His expression grew increasingly wary. “And what needs to be said?”

  Her eyes burned. She swallowed. “Who do you want? Joy or me?”

  “Alexandra …”

  “Wolf, I need to know. If you were to pick only one of us, would it be her or me?”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” he said impatiently. “You’re my wife. And Joy, she’s … she’s a friend and troubled, and the situation’s complicated.”

  Complicated?

  Why was his love so complicated? How could it be so complicated? Love wasn’t complicated for her. She knew who she loved and she knew why she loved and she knew that as long as Wolf was in her life he was her priority. It was as complicated—or simple—as that.

  “I’ve put you first,” she said flatly. “From the beginning I’ve put you first. Now do the same for me—”

  “Alexandra.”

  “Wolf, I can’t handle this anymore.”

  He looked at her so long she felt her heart slow and her insides gel. He looked at her with pain and exhaustion, sorrow and frustration. And she realized he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted. Wasn’t going to give her what she needed.

  “I’ll pack my things,” he said quietly. “I have a trip to Venice in a few
days. I’ll just leave early.”

  “So that’s your decision?” she choked out, chilled.

  “I’m sick of the pressure, Alexandra. I can’t be who or what you want me to be and I’m worn out from trying, too.”

  Wolf drew a suitcase out from the walk-in closet and began to pack. She watched him in stunned silence. He was packing so fast he was almost throwing clothes into the bag.

  “You’re really going to go?” she whispered, sinking down onto the foot of the bed. She could barely breathe as she watched him pack. Her pulse raced and her heart squeezed up into her throat.

  He shoved his leather wash kit into the bag. “I didn’t get to where I am by playing nice and lining up straight and following rules. But at the same time, I’m loyal and honorable and I protect those I love.”

  “Do you love Joy?”

  Wolf paused, head lifting, dark eyes finding hers. “What is it with you and Joy? She’s a bloody alcoholic. Alcoholism is a disease and you’re damn lucky not to have it.”

  His words only made her ache more. She swallowed the lump in her throat, swallowed back the hurt. He was packing shoes now, a belt, and he’d pulled his tuxedo out and was slipping that into a hanging garment bag.

  “Wolf.”

  “What?” he snapped, zipping the garment bag closed.

  She blinked back the tears threatening to fall. She wished he’d turn around, wished he’d at least look at her. He didn’t.

  She slid off the bed and gently, lightly, put her hand on his back, feeling the taut muscles, the tension in his spine. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not so sure you are,” he said coldly as he grabbed his bag and walked away.

  She watched him in disbelief. He was leaving. Like that. No kiss, no touch, nothing warm or reassuring.

  What the hell had happened? Since Zambia Wolf had been different. Changed.

  Alexandra hurried after Wolf, trailing him down the staircase to the hall below. “Is it over then?” Alexandra cried as he reached to open the garage door. “Are we finished?”