Later that night, when the party was over and the Wenns exited the building, Gia and Carlo would throw open their doors and burst out of the car. Already, Carlo had nudged the car back as far as it would go without touching the car behind them, and had cut the front wheels into the street so they could tear out of the spot when the job was done.
“Look at them,” Gia said in contempt. “Pulling up in their limousines and Rolls Royces. Turning this way and that for the press. These people didn’t come from the sort of poverty we came from, baby brother. They’ve probably never had to work a day in their lives.”
“What do you think that kind of life is like?” Carlo asked.
“No idea.”
“Use your imagination.”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “Socializing. Sitting on boards. Tending to pet projects. Lunching out. Going to parties like this one. And then trying to convince yourself that, at the end of the day, you’d somehow contributed something meaningful to the world. That your life, as empty as it is, actually is worth something beyond what you have in the bank. I mean, how else do you sleep at night if, in your darkest moments, you find yourself agreeing with the rest of the world that thinks you are nothing more than a living, breathing, Botoxed piece of shit taking up too much space?”
“I love it when you’re a bitch, Gia.”
“I know you do. And I always appreciate the audience when I have the chance to become one.”
“Tonight isn’t going to be easy, you know?”
“I know it isn’t, Carlo.”
“What concerns me is that this country has become so fucking gun happy. How are we going to handle things if someone pulls a gun on us? Not necessarily one of the guests, but perhaps someone walking down the sidewalk?”
“Hopefully, that’s just a stretch,” she said. “I mean, look where we are, for God’s sake—one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Manhattan. As far as this city goes, people feel safe here. For instance, just look at Meredith, who died only six blocks from here. She was walking down that street without a care in the world when I broke her neck. Before I jumped her, all she was thinking about was riding her man’s cock. She felt so secure walking alone on that sidewalk that I swear I saw surprise, shock, and disbelief on her face when I took her head in my hands before shoving it to the right. These people coming to this party feel the same way. I mean look at them,” she said. “Even after what happened to Meredith... Do you see any security detail around them, because I don’t. But if we were at an event downtown? Or in another part of the city that was considered even borderline unsafe? Oh, they’d be well-protected.”
“Look who just arrived,” Carlo said.
Gia turned her head and looked across the street as Alex and Jennifer Wenn alighted from their limousine and stopped to take a few photos before moving into the building.
“Enjoy yourselves,” Gia said aloud. “Enjoy your drinks. Enjoy a dance or two. Enjoy your friends. Say that you love each other. And live out the last few beats of your life. Because in just a matter of hours, it’s going to be over for you two—and for so many others who will die because of you. Revenge can be ugly, Carlo, and I’m pretty sure that by the end of the night, even you and I are going to be stunned by just how ugly it can be.”
CHAPTER SIX
WHEN OUR LIMOUSINE rolled to a stop in front of the Witherhouses’ mansion, I had to admit that it was nothing short of magnificent.
It was one of Manhattan’s few remaining mansions, and I knew that as long as the Witherhouses owned it, it wouldn’t be torn down to allow for new development. They were that kind of old money. Nothing would roll over them or this house while they were alive, and regardless of how I felt personally about them—they were a couple of snobs—I respected them for protecting a landmark as great at this.
“We’re here,” Tank said.
“And look at the paparazzi,” I said, glancing through my tinted window. “Oh, Maxine. If nothing else, you sure as hell know how to get yourself some attention, that’s for sure.”
“To say the least,” Alex said.
“I know you two have to pose for some pictures, but let’s keep it brief, OK?” Tank said. “After what happened to Meredith, I don’t like having you exposed in public at night for any longer than necessary.”
“We’ll be brief,” I said.
And we were.
Tank stepped out of the car and opened my door. When Alex and I got out, the crowd went wild in ways that, to this day, still stunned me. We went through the motions of being photographed, and then Alex said to Tank that he’d text him ten minutes before we were ready to leave.
“Got it,” he said. “Have fun.”
And with that, Alex and I stepped into the already packed foyer.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Alex asked me when we moved inside.
“Let’s see,” I said as I wrapped my arm around his waist and held him close to me. “I think you mentioned it twice when I met you after Blackwell and Bernie were finished with me. And then once on the drive over here, when you put your hand between my legs—from which I still haven’t recovered. And then again just now. So? That’s four times.”
“I could go on, you know?” he said as he pressed his lips against my ear. And when he did, the stubble on his upper lip and chin just about did me in, as it always did.
“Don’t,” I said. “Even after all of these years, I still don’t think you know what that does to me. Whenever you kiss me like that, you essentially toss me into a puddle of lust.”
“Maybe I’ll take care of that later...”
“Please do—because you, my darling husband, look especially hot tonight.”
“You don’t say.”
“I do say. I mean, look at you. You know that I have this weird fetish for seeing you in either a tux or a business suit. It drives me wild.”
“Why? I’ve never understood that.”
“It’s a few things,” I said. “First, there’s the mystery of what’s behind the suit. Even though I know what’s behind it—and lust for it—it’s still a turn-on for me, and I think that it always will be. And then there’s this big alpha element of a big stud like you dressed in a tux like this. When you dress like this, it’s like masculinity and sophistication have collided. Sometimes, you remind me of James Bond—the Sean Connery version. The ‘Pussy Galore” version. And with you in this particular fitted tux? Let’s just say that you have a very happy, turned-on, and devoted wife tonight—but when aren’t I that person?”
“Well, that was quite a rundown,” he said.
“You asked for it.”
“‘Pussy Galore?’” he said.
“Have you seen the movie?”
“I’ve seen it.”
“Trust me—if you were a woman, you’d get the reference. You’d understand the heat that’s pulsing between my thighs.”
“I hope I’ll always be that person,” he said to me. And when Alex said that, there was nothing playful about it. He meant it. It came from his heart.
“I know you will,” I said. “And I hope that I will do the same for you as we grow older together. Because as far as I’m concerned, Alex, we will grow old together. We will have children and grandchildren together. We’ll see and experience things that we thought we’d never see. And we’ll see them together.”
“I love you,” he said.
“And I can only hope you know how much I love you,” I said. “So. Are you ready for tonight? Because I am. Rudman Cross is ours!”
“You’re such a business junkie,” he said.
“And that surprises who...?”
“Not me. And by the way, you know of his reputation. You know that he can be difficult. So, you’re going to have to be the one to charm him tonight, because I have nothing when it comes to your super powers of smarts and seduction.”
“You and I both know that isn’t the case. You and I are a team. So, as Blackwell said to me earlier, let’s go and
win the night.”
“JENNIFER!” MAXINE WITHERHOUSE called out as Alex and I approached her and her husband, Bill, in the seemingly endless reception line. “Thank you for coming! Now the party has really begun!”
Didn’t she just say that to the couple in front of us? You need a new routine, Maxine...
It had been a good year since I’d last seen Maxine Witherhouse, and I had to admit that whoever her plastic surgeon was should have roses tossed at his or her feet, because Maxine looked terrific. She was a slight blonde in her mid-sixties, but given how vibrant and youthful she looked, one would have to question whether she’d even reached fifty.
When I approached her, we exchanged air kisses and then held each other’s hands as we assessed each other.
As usual, Maxine had chosen to wear two things—a form-fitting evening gown, and diamonds. Too many diamonds, just like she always did. They were at her throat, wrists, fingers, and ears. While looking at her, I thought that if we could somehow catapult her into the universe with this look alone, she might become one of the brightest stars in the constellation.
“You look fabulous,” I said. “That dress is to die for, Maxine.”
“Bought if off a model two weeks ago in Paris. Dior. Haut couture. It’s so gold, it makes me feel as if I should be held at Fort Knox for the night!”
“But I don’t see you in Kentucky,” I said.
“Only for the Derby!”
Well, then...
“And look at you,” she said. “Always the exclamation point in the room. And, my God, that necklace, Jennifer.” She paused for a moment, and then furrowed her brow at me. “Why do I know that necklace...?”
“Alex bought it for me. He gifted it to me today. Apparently, it once belonged to Elizabeth Taylor.”
“Liz!” she said. “Liz Taylor. Of course I’d recognize it. It recently was up for auction—I wanted it for myself. In fact, Bill tried to get it for me, but clearly he lost out to Alex. What a coincidence! Who would imagine that Alex and Bill were vying for it by telephone at the same time?”
“I believe Alex actually went to the auction in person.”
“Whatever. I’d like to say that I’m jealous, my dear, but I’m not—because it’s so you! And with that dress—all of it is just perfect in ways that make me want to faint. Oh, how you two lift a party!”
Was she already drunk? Everyone knew that Maxine loved her some cocktails, and the exuberant way she was speaking right now made me wonder if she’d already had a few too many...
“Bill,” she said to the distinguished looking gentleman at her right. “Bill, Bill, Bill—look who’s here. It’s Jennifer and Alex. They actually came!”
“Good of you to come, Jennifer,” Bill Witherhouse said as he shook my hand. He was a tall, slender man in his early sixties who had aged gracefully. “As always, you look lovely.” He looked over at Alex and extended his hand to him. “Alex, great to see you.”
“Likewise, Bill.”
“How’s business?”
“Let’s just say that Jennifer and I are busy.”
“I would imagine.”
“But are you too busy?” Maxine said in a hushed voice as she turned to me. “I mean—and please believe that I mean this in the best way possible—could it be that you haven’t conceived again, Jennifer, because you’re putting your career first, and not your child? Could that be the issue? Since hearing the news of your miscarriage a year ago, we’ve all been waiting for news of a baby Wenn. The question on everyone’s lips is, why hasn’t one come yet...”
I was so shocked, I just stared at her.
“Excuse me?” I said.
“Oh, dear,” Maxine said. “I hope I haven’t overstepped. Now you’ve gone pale. And your lips have parted, which never is a good sign. It implies shock. Oh, dear, I’ve done it again...”
It took a force of nature to compose myself, but I managed to.
“You’ve done nothing,” I said. “Alex and I will get pregnant when we’re ready. That could be this year, next year, or a few years from now. We’re still young, Maxine—and despite the loss of a child we hadn’t even planned for, one day, we will have children.”
“I think you’re upset with me,” she said. “On the very edge!”
“I’m neither,” I said as Alex reached for my hand and squeezed it in his own. “Hell, I’m not even thirty yet, so there’s plenty of time for children. We’re in no rush, but at some point, a Wenn heir will arrive. Don’t concern yourself about it.”
“Oh, I’m not concerned at all!”
“Then why the interest?”
Before she could say anything more, Alex and I wished them a good evening and a successful party, and then we moved into the crowded ballroom beyond them.
“I’M SORRY THAT HAPPENED to you, Jennifer,” Alex said with concern in his voice as we stepped deeper into the room.
“Everyone knows I miscarried because Stephen Rowe publicly spread the word,” I said as I took him by the hand and led him over to the far end of the room across from us—away from the middle of the room where people were mixing—so we could speak in relative privacy.
“And because of that, my miscarriage made the news,” I said to him. “It’s been nearly a year since that happened, so naturally, people are wondering why I haven’t conceived again yet—and thankfully, most of them are doing so in silence. Maxine always is on the lookout for a way to get a reaction out of someone. Anyone. I’m just glad that I didn’t give her what she wanted. What you don’t know, and the reason I brought you over here, is that I’ve been struggling with this for a while now. I have my good days and my bad days. Today wasn’t a good day.”
“Jennifer, we’re in this together. If you feel that whatever you’re going through will burden me, it won’t. You must know that.”
I placed my hand against the side of his cheek. “I was planning on discussing all of this with you tomorrow morning. I don’t like keeping anything from you, but you’re so busy and you work so hard, sometimes I just feel that I need to work things out on my own. Most times, I can. This one I’m no longer so sure about. What if it doesn’t happen, Alex? What if something is wrong? My doctor says that I’m fine, but we’ve been trying so hard, I’m at the point that I don’t believe her.”
“There’s in vitro. If we need to, we can try that.”
“And I’m up for that. Naturally, I am. But what if that doesn’t work?”
“Then, we’ll adopt.”
“But that would cheat you out of the rightful heir you deserve...”
“How? Jennifer, if we should happen to adopt, that child will be our child. I will not treat him or her differently. And I know the same is true for you. Either way, we’re having children—regardless of the route it takes for us to get there.”
“Now you’re going to make me cry.”
“I don’t mean to. But you’ve got to know that I’ll go to the end of the Earth when it comes to you. We might have begun our lives with your flyaway resumes, but since that day, look at what we’ve built together. Look at all that we’ve overcome together in three short years. We’re stronger than ever because of it. I’m grateful that you’re my wife. I love you more than you possibly could know. So, please, listen to me when I say this—I think you’re thinking too much about this. It’s clearly stressing you out, which is not good for you physically. And that could factor into conception.”
“Now you sound like Blackwell.”
“Have you talked to her about this?”
“Just this morning. She sensed something was off, and she wormed it out of me.”
“She’s probably seen more of what you’re going through than I have. And I’m sorry about that. I should have been being more sensitive to the situation and paying closer attention to it.”
“I can conceal a lot, Alex. This isn’t on you.”
“But why conceal anything from me?”
“Because you have so much on your plate. I didn’t want to burden y
ou with it.”
“Don’t you see?” he said. “You’ll never be a burden to me, Jennifer.”
At that moment, he leaned in and kissed me so gently on the lips that it made me tear up. When he said that he loved me quietly in my ear, I melted into him. And as I did, he wrapped his arm around my waist, held me close to him, and allowed me to wipe the tears from my eyes before anyone could notice them. He shielded me from the rest of the room so that no one could see the emotion on my face. My husband was a gentleman of the first order—and I was one lucky woman because of it.
“Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” I said in his ear. “Not here. We’ve already said too much. We came here for a reason. We’ve got work to do.”
“We can also leave and talk about this at home. To hell with Cross—we can talk to him later. You are far more important to me than some random deal.”
“No way,” I said, taking a breath to calm my nerves. “With your help, I plan to win that man over. You’ll see. And if I don’t, this room is filled with other business possibilities that could fit neatly beneath Wenn’s umbrella. So, how about a martini? Because your wife could use one right now—and I’m pretty sure that you could, too.”
“Give me five minutes,” he said. “The bar is just over there. Do you want to come with me?”
“No, I’m good here.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
As he left my side, a part of me wanted to cry because we’d been forced to have that conversation here, but I refused to give in to those emotions. I refused to give Maxine that kind of power over me. Instead, I reached into my clutch, removed my compact, turned my back to the room, and checked my face. It was good, but I was a little shiny and in need of a bit of powder. So I quickly blotted my face before dropping the compact back into my clutch and giving myself a fresh swipe of lipstick.
Good as new, I thought as I turned around. At least on the outside...
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