Forever in Love

by Nadia Lee

  “Then he’ll live under the bridge for a while. He won’t be able to afford much else, will he?”

  His jaw clenched. Catherine just stood there looking at him, all sweetness and cream. But there was a steel in her gaze that said she wouldn’t budge. “He read your letter. You should kick him out just for that.”

  “Well. I’m sure he won’t do it again.”

  “I don’t get you. You do…unexpected things.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She stepped forward and put a hand on his chest, the gesture unexpectedly conciliatory.

  “Ah, jeez,” he said. Intellectually he knew she was right. She wouldn’t have to do this on Sean’s behalf if Blaine hadn’t been such a hard-ass. How could he tell her no?

  “Just give him some time,” she said. “Also, can you bring some of his clothes over? I can’t have him wearing the same thing day after day.”

  “Don’t like stinky guys?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That, and it’s disgusting.”

  “Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want. But I gotta warn you—he might not have brought any clothes. That boy doesn’t generally think that far ahead.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I can’t believe you didn’t bring any clothes home,” Catherine said.

  Sure enough, Blaine had been right. Apparently he knew his brother better than she did. Now she was driving Sean to the local shopping center.

  “I was going to go back to school to get my stuff after I talked with Blaine. To make it all official and everything.”

  “So if Blaine had said, ‘No, Sean, you can’t drop out,’ what were you going to do? Wear that shirt and jeans for days and days?”

  “Well, you know.” Sean cleared his throat. “It’s winter. I don’t really sweat.”

  She sighed, parked the car and got out. “Do you have any money?”

  “Not, uh, with me.” He flushed. “But I can pay you back. I have some money hidden in my room at the apartment.”

  She sighed. “Let’s get this over with.” Shopping for cheap men’s clothing was not her idea of fun.

  They went inside a well-lit “discount fashion” store with a scuffed linoleum floor and yellow walls. Catherine looked skeptically at the garish, fat-lettered sale displays. The words discount and fashion didn’t generally go well together. A lot of the items just looked cheap and functional, not the slightest bit stylish.

  Sean took a cart and tagged along, grabbing a few packages of underwear and socks from a big bargain bin in the center of the men’s section. If Salazar knew his money was being spent at a clothing store with carts, he’d die of shame. But Catherine felt safe; he’d never believe Catherine had set a foot in a store like this in the first place.

  She pointed at Sean to grab a couple of pairs of jeans and shirts, and he started moving, turning around an aisle. They both froze at a few voices talking loudly on the other side.

  “A gold digger, you say?”

  “Yup. Mimi said she needed a rich husband. She’s going to get it at some fancy wedding. I was watching the news—you know I like to stay informed—and it had this thing about a rich heiress’s wedding. Kerri something. And apparently Catherine knows somebody who knows somebody who knows her. Just imagine. They know people who make Aston Martin-driving people look like beggars.”

  Sean turned red and started to move toward them, but Catherine took his wrist and shook her head. She wanted to hear what they had to say.

  “Oh my. Who can make Aston Martin-driving people look like beggars?”

  “How do I know? I’m just a regular person. But I’m sure she can get one. She’s pretty.”

  “That she is. Think her next husband’s going to turn out better?”

  “So long as she doesn’t sign a contract. You know rich people sign those all the time. I’m sure that’s why she can’t sue her ex for alimony or something. I betcha it’s got some stuff in it that wouldn’t let her get a penny.”

  “My, my,” one of the women said with a gasp.

  “I’m telling you, it’s not that unusual. How else can those men afford to have seven ex-wives? It don’t matter how old they get, their wives are always in their early twenties.”

  Tsking. “That sounds so crass. Men can own her if they have money.”

  “Mm-hmm. And you just wait until she hits thirty. Nobody’s gonna want her then.”

  “Thirty’s not so old.”

  “Honey, it’s not so old for you and me. We got things other than our looks that get better with age.”

  The other woman giggled. “I imagine you’re right. It just seems so…low. Isn’t it like prostitution to marry a man just for his money?”

  “It sort of is, but marriage makes it respectable. Can’t really call a missus a slut.”

  Another bout of giggles. “You say the dirtiest words. Ooooh, look at that! That’s the dress I’ve been wanting for a while. It’s fifty percent off.”

  “You should take it before somebody else does. You know how it is with good stuff.”

  As the women walked away, Sean grew even more rigid. He turned to Catherine. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know Mimi would open her mouth and tell everyone.”

  “Here.” She shoved a few bills into his hand. “Go get what you need. I’ll be in the car.”

  “Catherine…”

  “I’m fine.” She forced a smile. One thing she was good at was pretending she was okay no matter how humiliated she was.

  It wasn’t until she was inside her car that she started shaking. Thankfully no tears came.

  Why was she so upset about what she’d heard? She’d told herself over and over again how she’d rather be contemptible than pitiable. Hadn’t she told herself she’d be fine as long as nobody knew the real reason she had to have a rich husband? She didn’t care as long as people thought she was a simple gold digger…did she?

  But it hurt anyway to hear people talk about her so baldly like that. They had no idea that her motivation was less a love of money than a hatred of insecurity—the horror of having everything stripped from her in an instant. When her father had lost everything, it had terrified and humiliated her. She’d never thought she’d be poor. Her family had been well-to-do—not as high-flying as the Pryces or the Lloyds—but they had valuable real estate and a significant amount of cash coming in. Her father had been worth seventy million dollars.

  She could never forget her mother’s inconsolable sobbing or her father’s depression and eventual death. She was certain he’d just…given up. When he’d lost his money, he’d lost his reason to live.

  Catherine would never live like that. She’d never ever be poor like that or abandoned like that to pick up the pieces. Her husband would be so wealthy that a few bad investments could never shake him.

  And she’d never re-experience the kind of horrible anguish of watching someone she loved dying slowly before her very eyes.

  * * *

  Blaine wiped the counter after a trio of men left. The unusually warm weather was great for business. Lots of customers had come by for lunch, and from the way the waitresses grinned, everyone was getting nice tips too.

  Irene came through the door, shoulders hunched, and a furtive look on her face.

  He waved the towel at her. “Hey, Irene.”

  “Oh hi.” She scuttled over to him, holding something wrapped in a plastic bag tightly against her chest. “Is Catherine here?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Oh. Good.” Sighing, she rubbed her face. “I was so worried I might run into her.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I need a drink. Get me a beer first.” She took a stool and put the package on the counter.

  “It’s a little early,” he said.

  “Just give it to me. I have to have a drink.”

  He raised his eyebrows and handed her a bottle. Wordlessly, she grabbed it and took a long swallow. What the heck had happened?

  “My gosh, Blaine,” she
began. “I don’t even know if I should tell you this.”

  “What?” It wasn’t like Irene to be so theatric. That was Mimi’s thing.

  “Yesterday Catherine came to my place. She wanted me to clean the Blue House, so I told her I would do it today.”

  “Okay.”

  “So I went to clean up the place, and guess what I found in one of the kitchen drawers?”

  “What?”

  “This!” She smacked her hand on the plastic-wrapped package.

  “Irene,” Blaine said patiently, “What is it?”

  “It’s stuff about you.”

  “What?”

  “It has your photos and birthday and stuff.” She pulled out a thick manila folder. “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but then you heard about how she might be a drug dealer. She told me she wasn’t, but you never know, right? And if she’s in town for…I don’t know”—she waved her hand—“what, but why does she have this in the kitchen drawer? It wasn’t there when I first got the house ready for her.”

  His palms suddenly slick, Blaine reached for the folder and opened it. As Irene had said it contained a few photos of himself. He didn’t remember posing for them. There was a blue sticky that read: This should help.

  Help what?

  Then Blaine saw the rest of the report. It was thorough. His blood type was listed, along with his high school transcript and medical history. There was also information about the fifty million dollar trust fund that would be his as soon as he acknowledged Salazar as his father.

  At the very end was a yellow sheet. It didn’t have any information about him. It merely had a signature and read:

  Authorized by Kimberly Sanford on behalf of S Pryce. Invoice paid in full.

  S Pryce… Had to be Salazar. Why in the world would Catherine have this report unless…

  Blood pounding in his head, Blaine thought back. He remembered how she’d shown interest in getting close to him. Even helped him with the bar. His instinct had been right, that she wasn’t the kind of woman who soiled her hands. No, she was the kind of woman used to being served. What was her relationship to Salazar? His new lover maybe? Blaine had looked him up on Google. The man was a player who couldn’t stay faithful. The Internet showed strings of beautiful young things he’d hooked up with. Catherine was definitely his type.

  And after she’d met Sean, Salazar’s lawyer started talking about him. Coincidence? Blaine thought not. She must’ve told Salazar, and that rat bastard had instructed his lawyer to use Sean as leverage.

  Blaine fisted his hands to stop them from shaking. How could he have been so stupid? No wonder Catherine knew exactly what to say and do to get him to trust her and feel something for her. Any woman with this much information on a guy would be able to do that.

  “Mimi,” he said.

  “Yeah?” The waitress frowned. “You okay? You look a little pale.”

  “I’m fine. Can you call Rick to come in? I have to take the rest of the day off.”

  “Sure.” Her eyes slid over toward Irene, and he shook his head.

  “Not a word about this to anybody, Irene,” he said darkly. “I mean it.”

  “Okay,” the older woman said, her voice thin.

  The manila folder tucked under his arm, Blaine went up to his apartment. He wanted to look Catherine up on Google before he confronted her. If she was one of Salazar’s many lovers, there had to be some mention of her somewhere. It was only fair he know something about her.

  * * *

  Sitting in a cushy rocking chair, Amandine smiled at her precious baby boy as his eyes closed in sleep. If what she’d felt for him when he’d been in her womb was love, what she felt for him now was something fierce that no words could ever describe.

  “Hey,” Gavin whispered into her ear and put a hand on her shoulder.

  She kissed his fingers. “What did Ethan say? How’d it go with Catherine?”

  “Not the way we hoped.”

  He took a seat and watched her hold their son. Gavin spent so much time with her now that there were occasions when she worried he was neglecting his business. But her brother, who worked for Gavin, had assured her the firm was doing great, and she knew Pete would’ve said something if things weren’t going well. Amandine couldn’t believe how lucky she was. She had everything her heart desired right here in this nursery.

  “Catherine called Ethan from a public phone,” Gavin said. “And he said she didn’t sound all that happy about the audit.”

  She tilted her head. “She’s upset that she’s been cleared?”

  “Apparently Ethan said some things to her a little while back, which still upsets her.”

  She frowned. “I can’t imagine what it could’ve been.” Ethan had a reputation for being the nicer brother. Amandine disagreed with that since she thought Gavin was the sweetest and the most irresistible of the Lloyd brothers.

  “Me either, but now Ethan can’t reach her to talk further, and she seems unwilling to sell her shares of the company.”

  “Is it important?”

  “He offered her a lot more than they’re worth. Given her finances, taking the big lump sum might not be a bad idea.”

  “Yeah, but aren’t you the one who always talks about the long-term investment horizon?”

  He shook his head with a chuckle. “You’re confusing me with somebody else. I don’t do horizons, short or long. I only care about profit. But you’re right that if we turn the company around, the shares could be lucrative for her in…” He paused, considering. “…about a decade.”

  She gasped. “It’s going to take Meredith that long to turn things around?”

  “No, but I’m taking Ethan’s offer into consideration.”

  “I see.” Amandine ran a finger down Jeremy’s cheek. “Do you think I should go see Catherine? It might be better if somebody talked with her face-to-face.”

  Gavin took her hand. “Amandine, you don’t have to do that. I know seeing her makes you uncomfortable.”

  “Actually…it doesn’t.” She curled her fingers around his. “I was uncomfortable because I thought you were still pining for her and I wanted your love more than anything else. Things are different now.”

  Knowing—really knowing—that her husband loved her seemed to have freed her from all those petty fears. Besides, after speaking with Olivia it was obvious Catherine had given Amandine the best advice she could when she’d come by a few months back. “I know where she is, so I’ll fly out to see her. It shouldn’t take that long. And we’ll see how things go from there,” Amandine said.

  “Take Thomas with you.”

  Her mouth parted in surprise. “Are you sure? He’s your chauffeur. How are you going to get around without him?” She’d never seen Gavin drive.

  “I’ll manage. I’d rather have him chauffeur you around than some taxi driver. I’ll have a car waiting.” He took the baby from her arms and kissed her gently. “Don’t overdo it, and call me if you need anything.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Blaine couldn’t believe the lack of information about Catherine on Google. There wasn’t a single useful piece.

  There was, however, some stuff about the people around her, and it corroborated what she’d told him about her ex-husband and in-laws. There were a lot of sordid stories about Jacob Lloyd, who, despite being a complete douchebag, was a decent-looking guy. Blaine could see how he might have dazzled Catherine. There was also some stuff about how Catherine’s father had lost everything playing the stock and commodities markets. Her mother had come from a very good family in Charleston.

  It seemed that Catherine also had some connections in the art world. A financial paper had published a recent article about a painter she’d introduced to a gallery in New York. Apparently she’d never picked a loser according to the art gallery owners she was friendly with.

  Blaine started to get angry. It was unfair that he couldn’t find enough information to fill a post-it note when she knew everything about hi
m. Damn it.

  So lost in his fury, he almost didn’t hear Sean come in. When the door clicked, he went out to the hall and found his younger brother sneaking into his room. “Where the hell have you been?” he thundered.

  “With Catherine, since you told my friends to not take me in,” Sean said with a frown. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I knew. Have you ever wondered why she’s being so nice to you after the stunt you pulled reading her letter?”

  Sean flushed. “Because she’s a nice person?”

  “Because she’s using you.”

  “No way. For what?”

  “To get to me.”

  Sean put up a hand. “Whoa whoa whoa, hold on. You aren’t making any sense. Why would she do that?”

  “She knows there’s fifty million bucks waiting for me.”

  Sean’s expression slowly changed as he processed what had just been said. “What fifty million bucks?”

  “It’s from my biological father.” God, it was galling that Salazar was his “father.” The man did not deserve that title.

  “I thought you didn’t know who your father was.”

  He shoved his hands into his hair. “I didn’t. Until recently. He’s this rich playboy from the west coast. For some reason he suddenly wants to play at being daddy, except I’m not having any of it. So he’s dangling fifty million dollars to get me to acknowledge him as my father.”

  “Holy shit. So you’re gonna take the money, right?”

  “Wrong. I ain’t for sale. I basically told his lawyer to fuck off and die.”

  “Good thing to tell a lawyer.”

  “Yeah. But apparently Catherine knows all about the money. She has this thick report about me, like an FBI file or something. And it’s got detailed information about the fund.”

  “Damn.” Sean’s jaw dropped, then clicked shut. “So that’s why… Jeez. So she really is a gold digger.”

  “What makes you say that?” Blaine asked, gripping Sean’s arm.

  “The letter I read. It said something about getting the kind of husband she deserved. There were lots of names dropped in there, names like Barron Sterling. He’s like, the fifth richest guy in the world.”