The look on Rod’s face was enough to make every indignity she had suffered in the past weeks seem worth it. Stark terror saucered his eyes, followed by a seeming inability to speak. And in that instant, flash bulbs exploded. All three of Nick’s reporters started talking at once, so loudly Maggie could hardly distinguish what they were saying. But she did hear Patrice start shrieking and an uproarious laugh come from the crowd that had gathered around. The television camera swiveled back to Maggie. She squinted in the bright glare of its light, shielding her eyes with her hand. As the female reporter demanded further details, Maggie felt tongue-tied. She had a tremendous urge to shove the camera away from her so she could be left alone to holler and scream, and plot ways to feed Rod to the sharks. How dare he crash her party and claim to be her lover?
“And if you think that’s big news, wait until you hear what I have to tell you.” The sound of Nick’s voice commanded instant attention from his employees. In unison, the cameras and reporters turned toward him. They didn’t even ask questions, just stood silently waiting for him to speak. “How about reporting a marriage that was meant to be?” he asked. “It gives me great pleasure to announce Janelle Tyler-Beck and I are getting re-married.”
No kidding? Maggie clapped along with one hundred other pairs of hands. Nick and Janelle had so much in common it was hard to imagine them not being together. Not like her and Preston.
“Mr. Beck, when will the wedding take place?”
“Will the press be invited?”
The reporters had suddenly found their voices again, and Janelle rose to the occasion, taking charge of the interview. She threw back her shoulders and stepped in front of Nick. “My future husband and I own a major publishing concern. Naturally we will be granting our newspaper an exclusive. “And you’ll love the location. We’re getting married in Tahiti.” She gave her interviewers a moment to sigh appreciatively before continuing on. “Nick, honey, why don’t you tell everyone the really big news now?”
“Really big news?”
“And what might that be?”
Maggie listened to the reporters latch onto Nick’s announcements so fast, it almost seemed like forever since their attention had been focused on her. She owed Nick one.
“Actually, Janelle gave it away already when she said we own a major publishing concern. Or at least, we’re about to. This evening, right before we arrived, Beck Publications tendered a bid for Ty-Ken Communications, backed by the company’s Board of Directors.”
Maggie could scarcely believe her ears. Tracy stood beside her with a gaping mouth. No one in the entire bar said a word, as if stunned speechless were a contagious disease.
The silence lasted for just a moment, however, before one of the reporters asked, “What about Preston Tyler and Maggie McKenzie’s bid for the company? Won’t that put you into competition with your future brother-in-law?”
Preston stepped forward from behind Nick and Janelle. “I’ve withdrawn my bid for the company.”
Now Maggie felt like she’d been hit by a rocket. Preston was selling the company to Nick? Preston was? The same Preston she’d known all her life? She never would have believed it if she hadn’t just heard him say so herself.
Tracy jabbed her teasingly in the arm. “Now do you believe the man really loves you? And I don’t even want to hear any complaints about how he didn’t consult you first. He’s selling the company. He’s choosing you.”
Could it really be true? She felt tears well up in her eyes, despite the threat of exposing a mascara-streaked face to the television cameras. “Maybe you were right, Tracy.”
“Maybe?”
“Okay. You were right, Tracy.”
“Well, go on,” Tracy urged. “Go over there and talk to him.”
She wanted to do just that. Needed to. But as soon as she gained the will to move, Preston was besieged by the reporters and the cameras. He disappeared from her sight in the press of the crowd.
Chapter 72
“You lying, fucking bitch!” Rod couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry. The fucking bitch had lied to him. Used him. Played him for a fool. “You told me you were worth one hundred million dollars!”
Patrice calmly patted a hairstyle held together by about a can of hair spray and two hundred dollars. “Go ahead and divorce me if you don’t like my bottom line, Rod. Is that what you’re going to tell the judge? That our marriage was conditioned upon my net worth?”
“Our marriage was conditioned upon your net worth.”
She said nothing in response.
He stared at her, imagining her head exploding like an over-inflated balloon. He’d paid for that damn hairdo she kept checking on. Not to mention almost ten thousand dollars for her dress. All just to prove to her she hadn’t married beneath herself. It made him sick to think about. Too bad she’d already figured out how unsympathetic he’d be if he tried to dump her now. There was one thing she hadn’t figured out yet, however. He laughed and smiled. “Guess how much money you’re going to get if we get a divorce, darling? About twenty grand, if you’re lucky.”
He watched with satisfaction as the smug look on her face yielded to shock and disbelief. She shook her head emphatically. “That’s not true. You just spent ten thousand dollars on this dress. You’ve got to have money. You’re just saying this to try and scare me.”
He derived a private enjoyment from her predicament. “Not true, babe. I just tapped out my Gold card to buy that dress. I was counting on you to pay the bill off for me.”
“But what about your job, your savings? You’re a hot shot attorney.”
She sounded distressed, which only made him want to laugh. “I was a hot shot attorney. With one good client. And he fired me. But, you knew that when you called me up, babe.”
“But, your savings?”
“What savings? I spent every dime I made trying to make myself look good enough for Preston and his blueblood friends.”
“But, your house?”
“Rented. Face it, babe. You just married a guy who’s broke. And not about to pick up anymore Fortune 500 clients if Preston has anything to say about it.”
“Oh my God! You fucking asshole! You couldn’t. You wouldn’t!”
He laughed in her face. “Deal with it, babe. We’ve both been had. So why don’t we just get out of this situation as discreetly as possible before the spotlight turns back on us. We can get a quickie divorce in the Caribbean.” He thought he had the perfect solution for both of them, but he discerned from her reddened-face reaction that, once again, he’d been mistaken.
“You son of a bitch! If you think, even for a minute, that you’re divorcing me, you’ve got another thing coming. I will fight you with everything I’ve got.”
“Which, as you’ve just told me, isn’t much.”
“I’ll fight you anyway.”
“Come on, Patrice. Be reasonable.” He pulled her closer into the darkened corner of the parking lot, where he’d dragged her off just as soon as the cameras had been focused elsewhere. “There’s no logical reason for us to stay married. We don’t love each other. Hell, we don’t even know each other. And if there’s no money here either, there’s really no point in us staying together.”
“The hell there isn’t!” She hissed. “You may not be worth millions, but you do have a six-figure income. Whether you have Preston for a client or not. I’d bet money on that. And that will make my life a lot more comfortable than it is right now.”
The bitch was obviously missing the point. “Patrice, I don’t want to stay married to you.”
“I don’t really care what you want.” Her voice had taken on a low, menacing quality. “Do you remember our conversation when you first came to my house? You know, the part where you told me all about your little film collection? And how those pictures of Taralynn really wound up in Nick’s paper?”
He nodded. “What about it?”
“How do you think Andy Clarke would like to know about that?”
She wouldn’t dare. “It’s your word against mine, babe. I’ll just tell Andy you’re sore because I’m dumping you.”
“Oh really?” The smug look returned to her eyes. “You’re not the only one who knows how to play with cameras. I have your entire confession recorded.”
Denial came to him first. Not possible. No one had ever outsmarted him. “You’re lying.”
She shook her head. “Not this time. I’ll bet the majority of women you filmed would be furious to find out on the evening news they’re part of your collection. Not to mention what a field day the press would have with the inevitable criminal charges and lawsuits that would be filed. You’d be disbarred in a heartbeat. So, I guess you’re stuck with me. Like it or not.”
Goddamn bitch! He’d make her pay for this. If he had to stay married to her, he would make it the most miserable experience of her life. She’d have nothing but public affairs, rough words and zero sex from him ‘til death they did part.
Chapter 73
Andy Clarke forced away all thoughts that contradicted his sworn mission. Every now and again he’d have one. Like some intruder, cautioning him that what he was doing was stupid. That it was dangerous. That he might get caught. That it could get him into trouble. He banished each one as it cropped up and stayed focused on his mission.
Preston Tyler would pay for Taralynn’s death. Then, in the wake of all the turmoil sure to follow Maggie’s death, Preston’s company would pay for it, too.
So far, his plan had gone like clockwork. He’d picked up his rental car upon arrival in Miami. Afterward, driving around some of the seedier neighborhoods of greater Miami, he’d picked up a handgun for a mere one hundred and fifty dollars. The man selling the weapon to him, a tattooed young man wearing a wife beater and sagging jeans, told him the serial numbers had been scratched off and even gave him a round of bullets and showed him how to load and shoot the gun after receiving payment.
Andy didn’t care that handguns came with serials numbers or whether they were scratched off. Watching CSI had taught him that ballistics didn’t have anything to do with serial numbers. And, for his purposes it really didn’t matter anyway. He wasn’t going to be the one left holding the bag.
After pocketing the gun, he’d driven straight to the rental cabin on Big Pine Key. He found the key under the flowerpot, exactly where the rental agent told him to look. He also found the place every bit as quiet and secluded as described. The cabin faced the Florida Bay, set back off a dirt road pocked with ruts. Trees curtained the property line, keeping the place out of view from the road. And the nearest neighboring cabin was almost half a mile away. He would have all the privacy he needed. All he had to do now was get Maggie.
He wiped at a bead of sweat about to trickle down his brow. He could feel every beat of his heart acutely. His stomach tightened into a solid mass, much the way it did when he was having an orgasm. In a strange way, he understood the compulsion of serial killers. There was an inexplicable thrill in the anticipation, the planning, the hunt for, and finally, the vanquishing of, the prey. Not much different from the feelings he got when he took over another company, only much more intense.
Fortunately, there had been some big commotion going on at Rio Beach when he arrived. He’d expected to encounter obstacles in his attempt to penetrate this highly touted affair. Not the least of which included his lack of an invitation to show to any security manning the doors. Instead, he encountered no security and slipped in unnoticed, as people crowded around the glare of television camera crews. He hoped Maggie wasn’t in that crowd. Sneaking into this party wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good if he couldn’t get to her.
Quickly, however, an idea formed in his brain. A brilliant one if he did say so himself. An “Out of Order” sign on the ladies’ room door would be just the thing to make her come to him.
Chapter 74
Maggie had waited for over ten minutes already while the masses adored Preston, and the reporters took advantage of his publicity loving nature. She’d caught his gaze only once the entire time, and she’d smiled, hoping he somehow got her unspoken message that she didn’t mind his time with the press. That it was okay for him to be himself when he was with her.
“Why don’t you just go up to him?” Tracy asked. “He’ll ditch those reporters in a flash if you ask him to.”
She shook her head. “No. I want him to enjoy his moment. I can talk to him later. You should go say hello to Henry though. I’m going to get the band going and see if we can’t turn this back into a party instead of a series of press releases.”
Tracy nodded. “Good thinking. How about asking them to play something Henry and I can slow-dance to?”
“You got it.” Her thoughts remained on Preston. And only Preston. She couldn’t wait to see him. To touch him. To hold him. To taste him. To tell him she realized now she’d made plenty of mistakes of her own. To tell him she still loved him and always would.
Behind her, she heard the band strike up the seductive chords of the Nickleback tune, Far Away. Either Tracy had delivered the message to the band herself, or she had managed to hire a band that could read minds. The song made Maggie think even more of Preston. Not because it held any special meaning for the two of them, but because it was a slow and sensual love song and would give her a good excuse to be pressed tightly against him if they were slow dancing. Her anticipation, however, was disrupted by a waitress hurrying over to her.
The girl caught Maggie by the arm and tugged. “I’m sorry to bother you right now,” she said. “But there’s a problem with the ladies room.”
Not good. One thing she could not have was a party full of decked out women and malfunctioning toilets. “Which bathroom?” she asked, already turning toward the main rest rooms downstairs.
Just as she’d feared, the girl pointed in the same direction. “The ones down here,” she said. “That means only the two-stall room upstairs is still working.”
“Fine.” Maggie headed away from the girl. “I’ll see if there’s anything I can do, but why don’t you ask Carlos to bring the plunger.”
When she got to the ladies room, she noticed a handwritten Out of Order sign had already been placed on the front of the door. “Don’t tell me the entire room is out of order,” she muttered to herself. “There’s five stalls in here. They can’t all be broken.”
Stepping inside, she noticed first the room was dark, except for a small window at the end of the row of stalls. There was a new moon outside, so nothing but the faintest twinkle of starlight shone through. “What the hell is going on here?”
Maggie reached for the light switch, but flicking it, no matter how incessantly, brought no illumination. Maybe a fuse had been blown or something. That would explain the entire room being out of order. It was then she noticed the salty air blowing in from the ocean. A faint breeze blew against her cheek. What on earth was the window doing open?
Too late, a chill of warning crept up her spine, and a hand closed tightly over her mouth.
Chapter 75
Finally, Preston thought, as the last of the press left, their curiosity as fully sated as his quest for airtime. He’d caught Maggie’s gaze only once while he’d been photographed and answered questions. But in that brief moment, he’d seen the change in her mind, read it in her eyes. The door between them was open, and he had an almost irrational fear that if he didn’t make contact with her while the door was open he might never have another chance.
He found Tracy and Henry dancing on the edge of the dance floor and cut in. “Have you seen Maggie?” he asked in a loud voice, straining to be heard above the music.
Tracy shook her head and winked. “No. I thought she went to go find you. She’s feeling a little bit nicer now, if you know what I mean.”
He knew what she meant. Preston returned Tracy to his uncle. He checked the main bar, but didn’t find her there either. She also wasn’t in the kitchen, or her office. After scanning the entire bar from her offic
e window and not spotting a red dress anywhere, it finally occurred to him she might have gone to the powder room. He knew it was stupid, and probably really gauche, but he ran down to check.
Out of Order. The sign glared like a spotlight on the ladies’ room door. He was about to walk away and try another bathroom, when it occurred to him Maggie would never have left a restroom out of order during such an important event. Curious now, he opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dark. He tried the light switch, but it didn’t work. Then he noticed a small, sparkling object on the floor. A silk evening bag. Just like the one he’d seen her carrying. A half-used bottle of her brand of perfume and what appeared to be her hairbrush were inside. Fear gripped him instantly. His heart beat so hard it knocked the breath out of him. While his mind raced for the best action to take next, his cell phone rang. He answered without looking at the incoming number. “Hello.”
“Preston, good to see you’re as compulsive as ever about answering your phone. I have someone here who wants to speak with you.”
“Damn it, Andy, I don’t have time to put up with your shit right now. I’ve got-”
“Preston? Andy’s crazy. Don’t-”
The small, scared sound of Maggie’s voice stopped him cold. “Maggie? Maggie, are you all right?”
“That’s enough,” Andy answered. “If you want to see this little beauty again, you’ll do exactly as I tell you.”
“You miserable worm! If you touch one hair on her head, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!”
Andy laughed; the sound harsh and unsympathetic. “You’ve already killed me, Tyler. The night you sent my baby girl tumbling off the fortieth floor of her condo.”
GRATIFICATION (Desire Never Dies) Page 29