by Claire Adams
I snorted and then punched him in the arm. “You really think it's going to be that easy to win me back?” I asked.
I expected some other flippant line, but Andrew's gaze turned more serious than I'd ever seen it before. “I'm going to have to spend some time winning back your trust,” he said. “I'm not letting you go, not unless you really want to leave.” He paused. “But I thought maybe tonight, I could start my apologies by making dinner for you.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you aren't trying to give me reasons to leave?” I teased.
Andrew snorted and hugged me tightly. “I love you,” he said quietly into my ear. “I don't know how many times I'm going to have to say it before you believe me, but I'm going to keep saying it.”
“Good,” I whispered back.
As we hugged, Emma ran back into the room, and seeing us, joined our hug, wrapping her arms around our legs. We giggled and broke apart, and Andrew scooped his daughter up into his arms. “Come here, you!” he said, giving her an Eskimo kiss before he set her back down again. “Want to help me make some spaghetti?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Andrew
Over the course of the week, things started to return to normal. I wasn't working as much as I should have been, and I could tell from the looks that everyone was giving me that it was no secret how distracted I was. But one of the perks of being the CEO of a company was that no one could really pull the boss aside and ask if he shouldn't just stay home for the day or give him a lecture on his responsibilities to the company.
On Friday afternoon, just as I was getting ready to call it a day, I got a call that my secretary immediately transferred over to me. I frowned down at the blinking light, debating not picking it up. After all, I was ready to go home for the day. Surely whoever was calling could wait until Monday for an answer?
But that thought, in itself, made me feel guilty. I hadn't been giving the company my full attention that week, being so focused on how I was going to make things right with Lexi. I should at least pick up this one last call before I called it quits for the week.
“Orinoco Enterprises, this is Andrew Goldwright speaking.” I hoped whoever was on the other end of the line could hear the combination of “I'm not interested in whatever it is you have to say” and “I'm leaving the office, so this had better be quick.”
“Andy, so good to hear from you,” Renée said sweetly, as though I'd been the one to call her, instead of the other way around.
I scowled, debating just hanging up on her. But I knew she would probably just call back if I did so. And if I didn't answer my work phone, she would call my cell phone. I really should have the numbers changed, but there were too many people who contacted me through those numbers for work, and I didn't want to cause chaos and confusion. Still, I should remind Renée that she was breaking the law by calling me, in any case.
“You're violating the terms of the restraining order by calling me.” The judge had signed off on the documents a few days ago, and that meant that she couldn't come near Lexi, Emma, or I physically, but it also meant that she couldn't call us or contact us by email or any other means.
“You've got a restraining order?” Renée shrieked, even though she should have already been aware of this.
I frowned and wondered where that miscommunication might have occurred. She had been served the papers, as far as I knew. But maybe she hadn't opened them.
I couldn't imagine her not opening them, though. I would have thought the curiosity would be enough to get her to look at them immediately.
She was still ranting, clearly pissed. “I can't fucking believe you! And coming after my family as well? What the hell is that? It's bad enough that you spread all those lies about us to anyone who would listen, but now Dad says you've quit investing in all of the companies that he has stock in, and that's making him look really bad. Our stock prices are plummeting. Honestly, with the way that you've been acting lately, I'm starting to wonder if you've been poisoned or something. It's just not like you! I mean, you were always a cold, insensitive bastard, but this is just crazy.”
“Renée, I'm going to give you ten seconds to hang up the phone,” I said, feeling almost like I was reasoning with a child. But then again, Emma was never like this.
I didn't know why I was reasoning with her, either. I ought to just hang up and let the judge know that she had violated the restraining order. There would be evidence in the phone logs. But there was something that kept me on the line with her, listening to her hurl insults at me.
I wondered just what that was. I had never been a masochist before. Maybe it was just the fact that I had been trained, as a businessman, that you don't walk away from your arguments. Instead, you sit down and reason things out.
Or maybe it was that I thought I deserved every insult that she wanted to hurl at me. Especially after the whole debacle with Lexi over the DNA test and the crime rap. Or maybe it was something else, something to do with the weirdness of her calling me in the first place. If she didn't know about the restraining order, as she claimed, why hadn't she shown up at my work again? She seemed to have no problem doing that, and even though I'd threatened to call security on her the last time, I wasn't really stupid enough to think that would actually deter her.
“You bastard,” Renée snarled. “You picked the wrong person, but I'm going to fix all of that; don't you understand?” She said something else that I didn't quite catch.
Come to think of it, there was something weird about the phone quality in general. There was a lot of background noise, including what sounded like cars. But it wasn't typical cell phone quality; it was worse than that. I could hardly hear her at times, as though she was too far from the microphone for it to pick her up.
I gave a mental shrug. She was probably just doing something strange with the phone while she had her little hissy fit.
“Renée, you're a deluded fool. You know we're never getting back together again. I have made that quite clear. You're lucky that I haven't done worse than I already have to you. I could ruin your whole family if I wanted to.”
“Do you actually love the bitch that much?” Renée asked.
“If by 'the bitch,' you mean Lexi, then yes. I do.”
Renée laughed. “Oh, that's rich. Like you would ever be capable of love. You don't even know what love is, you twisted bastard. Did you hear that? He says he loves you. But love isn't going to save you from a bullet.”
I frowned, trying to piece together exactly what I was hearing, when suddenly things became all too clear. “Renée, where are you?” I asked, trying to keep my tone level and careful when really, I was starting to panic inside.
She laughed again, sounding manic this time. “Wouldn't you like to know,” she said in a singsong voice.
“Renée, what have you done?” I asked.
I inwardly cursed the fact that I was on my office phone rather than my cellphone, since it meant that I couldn't go tearing out of there like I so desperately wanted to do. That was probably for the best in the long run, because I knew that confronting Renée right now was only going to make things worse. But at that moment, thinking of the things that she could have done to the people who I loved, made it impossible to stay calm.
“You really should get better security at your place,” Renée said, sounding careless and nonchalant, as though she were talking about the weather. “I know you've never cared about your money, but now that you do have something that you seem to care about, you'd think that you would take better care of it,” she continued. “Unless maybe that's the whole point of it. You don't actually care about the bitch and the brat at all, do you?”
My blood ran cold. “Renée,” I said warningly, but I couldn't get anything else out.
I frantically searched through my laptop for the number that I needed, and I knew that the longer I could keep her on the phone, the more time I would buy.
“Don't worry,” Renée said sweetly. “I'm not a total
bitch, although that's what you seem to think. I left the brat and your maid at your house. They're locked in a closet and can't get out, but they're safe. I don't care about them. No, your bitch is the one who I've got a problem with.”
I was flooded with relief hearing that Emma and Janice were unharmed, but that didn't change the fact that I still didn't know where Renée was or what she'd done to Lexi. I remembered what she'd said about a bullet and realized that Lexi must be there, and that Renée must be planning to shoot her. She hadn't shot her yet, but she was planning on it.
I swallowed hard.
“Please, Renée,” I begged. “Please, let Lexi go. It's me that you have a problem with, not her. If you let her go, I'll give you anything. You know that I can do that. I'll give you anything.” I hated sounding that desperate. I hated begging, and I hated that I was bending to her game. But it was all worth it, if it meant that I could ensure Lexi's safety.
“The only thing that I want, you're never going to give me,” Renée said acidly. “Not as long as this bitch is still here to poison your mind. Don't you think I don't realize that? But once she's out of the picture, you can be mine again. Just like it's meant to be.” She was quiet for a moment. “You and I were meant to be together. I knew that long before you did. Our families are meant to be joined, with all of our wealth pooled together. And you and I would have been the poster children for the elite, the perfect relationship standard. We'll look so good on the cover of all the magazines, don't you think?”
I could tell from the way that she was changing between different verb tenses, between what she wanted to have happen and what she imagined would happen, that she was totally gone. There wasn't anything left.
And logic didn't work on someone who had no sanity left.
But I had to at least try. “Renée, please. There must be something else that you want. I could give you everything that I own; wouldn't that satisfy you? You'd be one of the richest people in the world. I'm sure men would be knocking themselves out trying to get a date with you. You'd forget all about me. Wouldn't that be better?”
“You bragged about your wealth and power before,” Renée said mockingly. “You thought it made you so high and mighty. But now I have all the power. Right here.”
“Anything you want, Renée,” I said again, stressing the words so that she would know how serious I was.
“Hmm, I'll think about it,” Renée chirped. But her laugh told me all that I needed to know: she wasn't even considering it. Her mind was probably fixated on her obsession: the idea of killing Lexi.
And Lexi, I could only imagine what she must have been feeling. She would be terrified. So would Emma. Janice would try to hide her own terror to comfort the young girl, but she would be scared as well. And all of this was my own fault. Why had I been so stupid? Why hadn't I realized that Renée would do just this? A restraining order meant nothing to her. She was psychologically unsound.
“If I see the police, I'll kill her,” Renée said, her final words before she hung up the phone.
For a moment, trapped in my worried thoughts, all I could do was stare at the receiver and listen to the dead line. Then, I sprang into action, punching out the number that I had up on my computer screen. It was for a private security firm that I worked with. I had suspected that Renée wouldn't want the police involved. I fully believed her when she said that she would pull the trigger if she saw police. But the security firm would know what to do. They were trained for this sort of thing.
The phone seemed to ring for an agonizingly long time, despite the fact that it only took two rings before someone picked up. “This is Andrew Goldwright,” I blurted out. “I've got a Code Ultra Violet.”
“Location?”
I rattled out Renée's cell phone number, knowing that they could use that to trace her. It was all the information that I had for them.
Once I was satisfied that they were on their way toward Lexi, I called the police and directed them toward my house, telling them that there had been a break in.
Then, I sat back in my chair for a moment, wondering just what to do now. As much as I wanted to be the hero, I didn't even know where Lexi was. I couldn't swoop in and save her. God, I would die if anything happened to her.
I stood up, reminding myself that I could still go home and see Emma. Emma, who probably needed a serious amount of cuddles, ice cream, and therapy to get over this. My heart broke, thinking of how terrified she must be.
All my fault, that voice inside me reminded me again. I pushed it away and headed towards the parking lot. It was only after I reached my car that I realized how bad my hands were shaking. I probably shouldn't be driving in this state. I paused for a moment and then, in a daze, called a driver and instructed them to bring a car around to the front of the building.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lexi
I sobbed as Renée hung up the phone. Nothing Andrew had said had been directed at me, even though he must have realized that he was on speakerphone and that I could hear everything that he said. But it had been marginally calming just to hear his voice. I knew that he was going to try to rescue me.
Unfortunately, I'd have to figure out some way to stay alive long enough for him to figure out where I was and come rescue me. I wasn't entirely sure how I was going to do that, not when Renée was standing there in a floor-length crimson gown, brandishing a gun at me. I kept expecting her to accidentally shoot the thing, what with all her theatrical posturing.
In some part of my mind, it was almost funny, watching her. But all I could feel just then was terror.
I wished that I could have given Andrew some information, some clue about where to find us. But even though Renée hadn't gagged me, I didn't seem capable of speech. I couldn't tell him much anyway. All I could see was that we were in some sort of warehouse, but in a city like Seattle, that didn't exactly narrow it down. I knew we must have driven someplace before Renée tied me up in this chair, but I couldn't remember that part. She must have knocked me out with some sort of drug when we were still back at Andrew's place.
I was just relieved to hear her say that Emma and Janice were all right. That had been my first concern, as soon as I'd come fully to my senses.
Renée stalked towards me, her eyes narrowed. “I still can't believe you think that you deserve him,” she snarled. “You're just some poor, white-trash, gold-digging bitch with a little brat. Andrew doesn't want you. You're not his type. He's only putting up with you because he's convinced that the brat is his.”
“Emma is his daughter,” I protested, even though I knew that I probably should shut up. I shouldn't provoke her, or who knew what she would decide to do.
“Bullshit, she is,” Renée snapped, swiftly slapping me across the face with the hand that wasn't holding the gun. “I put effort into Andrew, you know? I was grooming him to be my husband. We were going to take over the business world as a charming couple. We were going to be the cream of the crop of the elite. And then you had to come along and fuck that all up.”
She breathed out heavily through her nose. “I could have let it go if you had deserved him. If you'd been a worthy opponent. If you were someone else, maybe I would have conceded the match. But you're just some stupid little con-artist who thinks that she can have whatever she wants. That's not the way the world works.”
“Please, Renée,” I said quietly. “You know that we can't choose who we fall in love with. I get it. You don't want Andrew to be with someone else. But killing me isn't going to solve that. You know that. It's just going to get you in more trouble. Andrew can't help it. He just doesn't want to be with you. But there's someone out there who does want to be with you. Maybe you've known him all along. Maybe you just didn't notice him because you were too busy trying to get with Andrew.”
“Andrew and I are perfect for each other!” Renée insisted, her voice turning shrill. “Now shut up. I don't want to hear anything else from you. Your words are poison.”
“Renée,�
� I sighed. “I don't want any trouble with you. Why don't you let me go? I promise I'll never go anywhere near Andrew again if you do. I just wanted what was best for Emma. This isn't it. Now that I see that, I'll leave. I'll go someplace where he'll never be able to find us.”
It hurt, just telling her that, even though I had no intention of doing it. But at that moment, I was ready to promise her anything if she would just let me go.
“You think I don't know that if you were out there somewhere, Andrew would spend the rest of his life looking for you?” Renée said, sneering at me. “You heard him on the phone. He thinks he's in love with you. I couldn't let you go, even if I wanted to. The only way is to kill you.”
I shuddered, absolutely terrified. From the way that Renée was talking, from the way that she was fixated on this whole thing, I could tell that she had lost her mind. I wasn't sure what to do in this situation. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For keeping Emma safe. For not hurting her. That, at least, I really appreciate.”
“I didn't do it for you,” Renée told me. “In fact, I did it for the opposite of you. That poor little brat is going to have to grow up all alone, without a mother. Andrew's not going to keep her around, so I guess she's going to float around the foster care system for the rest of her young days. She'll be depressed, with everything that she's lost. She had all the best things in the world, but she'll have nothing, soon enough. Maybe she'll even kill herself.”
I choked, thinking of Emma that way. I knew it wasn't true. Even if Renée killed me and even if Emma had to grow up without me there by her side, there was no way that Andrew was going to get rid of her.