by Girard, Dara
John Lyly
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Present
Brenna set her glass aside and looked at Byron. It was dangerous to be here with him. It was a simple invitation to a friend’s party, but she knew they were headed to much more. She’d let him kiss her. And as he did she thought of how much Hunter had loved Angelina. She remembered his words while indulging in the sensuous feel of Bryon’s lips on her skin. She shut her eyes. It could always be like this. She could be loved too.
“Come away with me,” Bryon whispered.
She reluctantly drew away. “I can’t. And this is wrong.”
“What’s wrong is how you continue to lie to yourself.”
“I have to go home.”
“To what? You have nothing and no one to go home to.”
***
Byron’s words echoed in Brenna’s mind as she stared at the large brick wall that slowly came to life under the artistic hands of twelve high school students. Tima had invited her to see the progress of a mentoring program she volunteered with.
“Feel the story,” Tima instructed. She looked over at Brenna and waved. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Is your leg hurting you?”
“Just a little. I’ve been working with Byron the past few days and trying to keep everything at work running smoothly. It’s just nerves.” She glanced around. “This is impressive.”
Tima folded her arms and shot her a knowing look. “Stay away from him, Brenna.”
She didn’t turn her eyes away from the mural. “Who?”
“You know who. You’re thinking about him right now. Personally, I don’t blame you.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ve seen him. But you’re married.”
“The marriage isn’t real. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve made a mistake.”
“You didn’t make a mistake marrying the man you love.”
Brenna continued to stare at the mural. “Everyone knows I married Hunter for his money.”
“That’s what you want everyone to believe and most people do.”
Brenna turned to her. “But not you.”
Tima shook her head. “Why don’t you just admit that you loved this man the moment he walked into your office?”
“I can’t admit that,” she said in a tense voice.
“Why not?”
She gripped her cane and fought hard against tears. “Because I promised myself never to feel this way again. Never to love a man who didn’t love me. How could I be so stupid? How can I love a man like Hunter? Do you know what I am to him? An employee. I have my duties and my place and nothing more. I should leave him…”
“Why don’t you?” Tima said bluntly. “He doesn’t have money any more.”
Brenna ignored the question. “Byron wants me. Do you know how good it feels to be wanted in that way?” Her gaze fell as she thought about the time she’d spent with him. The forbidden kiss that night on the balcony only days ago and the questions she refused to answer. “I’ve told him no, but…”
“You don’t know what you want.”
“What’s better? To love or be loved?”
“It depends on what makes you happy.”
“Byron’s coming by tonight. Hunter’s working late so there’ll just be the two of us.”
Tima studied her friend, uneasy. “Be careful, Brenna.”
“Don’t worry. I am.”
***
Hunter did not appreciate the sight of Brenna and Byron saying goodbye in the parking lot. But it wasn’t the first time he’d seen them together. Brenna had explained that Byron needed her help in uncovering some information and he couldn’t object. But there was no doubt he couldn’t wait for the trial to end. He watched Byron walk to his car then followed.
Byron saw him and smiled. “Hello.”
Hunter didn’t return the expression. “You’re heading in the right direction. I suggest you keep going.”
Byron looked amused and shoved his hands in his pocket. “You can’t stop me from seeing her. You’ve denied her enough things, don’t you think?” He glanced at the building. “This little set up of yours isn’t working anymore. The main thing is you can’t make her happy.” He rested a hand on his chest. “I can. I know she loves the scent of pumpkin pie and fall afternoons and the taste of blackberries in cream. What do you know about her?”
“Enough to know she belongs to me.”
“The great thing about belongings is that you can always get a fair exchange,” Byron said. “How would you like your old life back? A time when you could afford anything you wanted? Fortunately, people will pay a lot of money for the right kind of secrets. And I know of someone who could use a few.”
“I’m not interested.” Hunter began to walk away.
Byron shrugged. “The Randolphs have treated you badly,” he called after him. “In a way we’re on the same side.”
Hunter slowly turned, his voice laced with ice. “And what side would that be?”
Byron flashed a ruthless grin. “We both wouldn’t mind a little revenge.”
Hunter folded his arms curious. “What do you have against the Randolphs?”
“Orson got my uncle disbarred. He had discovered Orson and a bank executive had hired a corrupt lawyer to throw a case against a bank manager indicted for embezzlement. The manager went to prison and they made a hefty profit from the ‘missing funds’ that were never recovered. When Orson discovered my uncle was investigating the case, he pulled some strings and made sure my uncle never worked in law again. I’d like to repay him for his kindness.”
Hunter was silent a moment. “When you heard about this case, what caught your attention more? The name Randolph or Garrett?”
“I was swayed by both.”
“Perhaps one more heavily than the other?”
“Perhaps.”
Hunter shoved his hands in his pockets. “Which would you prefer? Company secrets or Brenna?”
Byron rocked on his heels. “I don’t make choices when I have the advantage.”
“And what would that be?”
“I have money and Brenna needs me. As I said earlier it’s a friendly exchange.” He grinned then turned. “Think about it.”
***
Hunter sat at the table thinking about Byron’s offer. He did want revenge. He did want money and prestige, but not at his price. He’d deal with his grandfather on his own terms and he would do whatever it took to make Brenna happy. He wanted to make her happy, but didn’t know how. He glanced up when she put a fruit smoothie in front of him. “What’s this?”
“Your dinner. Since you won’t eat anything I cook. I thought this might help.”
He felt heat stealing into his cheeks. Lately, he hadn’t had much of an appetite. “It’s not the food—”
“Just drink it. You need nutrients.”
He lifted the glass and studied it before setting it back down. “I saw Byron before I came in.”
She sat and dived into her lasagna dish. It was in a carton of some sort. Everything seemed to come in a carton lately. “Oh.”
“I don’t want you to see him anymore.”
She stared surprised. “Why not?”
“I don’t trust him.”
“I do. He’s defending my brother.”
“I know. That doesn’t mean you have to see him outside of court.”
She boldly met his eyes. “I’ll see him if I want to.”
“I’m your husband and you promised—”
Brenna clenched her fork, her voice low. “I promised you my loyalty, not my heart. What about your promises?” Brenna covered her mouth and looked devastated as though she knew how much she’d hurt him. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Especially from me.” She rose to her feet exasperated. “This is all wrong. I don’t want us to hurt each other.” She bit her lip and stared at him, sadness in her eyes. “Maybe we should—”
He knew the tone and the look. Angie had used them when she’d asked for a divorce.
He didn’t want to go through that again. He stood. “It will get better,” he interrupted then began to walk away.
“Where are you going?”
He spun around and threw up his hands. “Dammit, not far! We live in an apartment the size of a toothpaste box. If I fell off the balcony the worse I could do is break my ankle. Where the hell could I go?”
Brenna shook her head. “It’s not that bad.”
Hunter rested his hands on his hips and stared at the ground. “I know I haven’t fulfilled my promise to you,” he said in a cold, flat tone.
“I said I was sorry.”
He met her gaze. “But you’re right. I know why you married me.”
Brenna smiled sadly. “And I know why you married me, but I’m not much use to you now, am I?”
“Things will change.” He turned.
“Why wait until then. If I left, you wouldn’t have to see her behind my back.”
Hunter stopped then looked at her confused. “Who?”
Brenna went into the kitchen and pulled a pair of stockings from the drawer. She held them out to him. “They’re not mine.”
Hunter sighed resigned and took them from her. “I know. They’re mine.” He saw her expression change then burst into laughter.
Brenna frowned. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
He laughed harder. He staggered into the living room and fell on the couch.
Brenna stood in front of him. “Hunter!”
“I’m not wearing them,” he gasped some of his laughter subsiding. “They’re for my company.”
She sat beside him. “What company?”
He hesitated then said, “It’s called FreedomWear. We supply diabetic hose. The company hasn’t picked up as fast as I wanted, but it will. We’re working on a new line of the product that will—”
She snatched the stockings from him and shook it in his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
A remote expression entered his eyes. “I wanted to make it a success before I told you.”
Brenna stared back at him with amusement. “The fact that you own it already makes it a success to me.”
Hunter paused. She didn’t see him as a failure? She trusted him? He seized her shoulders his mood suddenly buoyant. “I don’t care who you give your heart to as long as you remain loyal to me. Okay?”
Brenna nodded, but even as she did so Hunter knew he wanted more. He wanted all of her. He didn’t expect her to love him, but he didn’t want her to love anyone else. He wanted her completely. He wanted to be the only man in her thoughts. His lips captured hers with passion near desperation and a command that was fierce. Tonight he would make sure she thought only of him.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded in a deep husky tone.
“I’m yours.”
He peeled away her clothes, pressing his lips to the areas he exposed. “Say it again.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. “I’m yours.”
Her breathless words made a possessive hunger grow within him. He couldn’t remove their clothes fast enough. Having her warm, soft form melding itself against the length of him wasn’t enough. Even as he found solace between her thighs it only took the edge off his need. He wanted her to know her words were a promise to him. She belonged to him and he wouldn’t surrender her to anyone no matter what the price.
He didn’t speak for a long time after it was over, his body limp with pleasure, but his mind filled with unease.
Brenna rested her cheek against his chest. It felt right to be with him. He didn’t want her heart, but she didn’t know how to claim it back from him. “Hunter?”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me you’re mine.”
She waited, her body filled with hope and fear, her pulse beating erratically. She shut her eyes promising she wouldn’t cry. Then she felt his large hand against her face, his touch tender and he said, “I’m yours.”
***
The sun shone through a cloudy haze the day the defense began its argument. Byron called Stephen to the stand.
It was a risky move, but Byron was confident that with his quiet reserved manner and good looks he could charm the jury. They’d practiced for this and now it was time for the stage. As expected, Stephen answered Byron’s questions calmly and he could see the audience softening towards him. The DA however, had not softened and once Byron finished his question he prepared to cross-examine and approached Stephen as the suspected murderer he was.
“Why were you at Mr. Seaborn’s residence that night?”
“I went over to talk to him about his house. I wanted to help him with his lighting and other things. ” “A stranger you'd only just met?”
“A lot of clients start out as strangers. He seemed like a nice guy.”
“So you spent all day with him.” He paused. “The first time you met him was in a grocery store. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Is it true that you bought his groceries?”
“Yes.”
“Are you in the habit of buying people’s groceries?”
“No, but he looked a little short on cash. I was just trying to help him out.”
“Help him out,” the DA repeated the statement slowly for effect. “Is that why you also offered him a ride home?”
Stephen nodded. “Yes. It was cold and he’d missed his bus.”
“Are you in the habit of driving men home?”
“No. Like I said, I was helping him out.”
“How do you feel when people break your trust?”
Stephen shrugged. “I don’t like it, but I wouldn’t hurt them.”
“As long as they don’t make you work for them without compensation first.”
Byron raised his pen. “Objection. The DA assumes facts not in evidence, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded. “Sustained. Watch yourself counselor.”
The DA tugged on his cuffs. “Strike the statement.” He smoothed out his mustache. “Has a man ever betrayed your trust before?”
Stephen shifted in his seat. “He just stole from me. You’re making it sound like it was more than that.”
“That wasn’t the question. Has a man ever betrayed your trust before?”
“No.”
The DA paused confused. “That’s strange because I have a witness ready to testify that when you were eight a male relative molested you. Isn’t that a betrayal?”
Stephen stiffened. “That was different.”
“How was it different?”
“It’s just not the same. Stealing and…that.”
“But both people were individuals you trusted and they took advantage of you. It sounds the same to me, don’t you agree?”
“No, I don’t. Molestation is something else.”
“Did you learn that in counseling?”
“I never got counseling.”
“I see. So you never got counseling for what must have been a very traumatic experience?”
Stephen glanced at Brenna then his mother. “No.”
“Did the incident make you angry?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve held in that anger all the time?”
Byron stood. “Objection. Misquoting the defendant’s statement, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded. “Sustained.”
The DA turned to the jury. “Without counseling, were you able to handle the anger you’d experience then?”
“Yes.”
“You were able to deal with an older person, you trusted, basically stealing your innocence, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that what a thief does? He steals from you.”
“Yes.” Stephen sighed. “It was a long time ago.”
“Do you still interact with that individual?”
“Sometimes.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No, and we don’t talk about it.”
“Is it true that your family doe
sn’t like to talk about certain things?”
Stephen nodded. “Yes.”
“So you’re in the habit of keeping things to yourself?”
“Yes. I don’t need to talk about things.”
“Still it must be stressful to meet with someone who violated you like that and have to pretend nothing happened. If that had happened to me, I’d be upset. But you’re fine about it right?”
“Yes. I said it was over,” Stephen slowly repeated his patience thinning.
“Right.” He glanced at Brenna. “Is it true that you have a disabled sister?”
“She’s not disabled. She has a limp.”
The DA smiled. “More than a limp I’d say. More like a deformity. Isn’t it true that she had a lot of surgeries while you were young?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have to look after her?”
“Yes, sometimes when she came home from the hospital.”
“Did you mind having to look after your big sister?”
“Objection,” Byron said annoyed. “Your Honor, the defense fails to see the relevance in this line of questioning.”
The DA spun around. “If the defense will give me a chance to finish—”
The judge said, “Both of you please approach the bench.”
Byron spoke first. “Your Honor, while I respect the DA’s position in this courtroom I do not see the benefit of exposing my client by discussing past molestation and his sister’s disability.”
The DA countered. “Your Honor, there is no doubt that the defendant has led a good life. That is not why he is in this courtroom. He is a man of hidden anger and I think that it is important for the jury to see the possible state of mind he was in when he visited Percy Seaborn that evening.”
The judge looked at both men then said, “Overruled.” Byron returned to his seat and the judge instructed Stephen to answer the question.
“No, I didn’t mind.”
The DA nodded. “Isn’t it true that at times you had to protect her from bullies?”
“Sometimes.”
“And is it true that there were times that you resented her?”
Stephen shifted awkward. “I was young.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it also true that you helped your mother? You worked odd jobs to help support the family after your father left, correct?”