To Love & Betray

by Shelly Ellis

  “Look, I don’t . . . I don’t know what the future holds anymore. I never did, but I know that for certain now. I don’t know if this bogus attempted murder charge will get dropped—or if I could face some serious jail time if a jury finds me guilty. Either way, I figured I should be prepared. I . . . I have to set my house in order.”

  He raised his eyes to look at his little brother. As expected, Terry’s facial expression was grim.

  “I’ll try my best to pull Murdoch Conglomerated out of the quagmire it’s in now, but . . . but I’ll also encourage the board to start looking for a new CEO to lead the company if I—”

  “No! Hell no, Ev! That’s our company.” Terry pointed at his chest. “Dad wanted you to lead it. He said so on his deathbed! You can’t just—”

  “We have to have a contingency plan, Terry,” Evan said firmly. “I have to prepare for the worst.”

  Terrence fell silent.

  “I also want you to become trustee of the estate in my absence. I know money management isn’t your thing, but I have people lined up who can help you. I would feel more comfortable with you overseeing it. I know I can trust you.”

  “Ev . . .” Terrence slowly shook his head. “Come on, man! Stop talking like this.”

  “I also want you . . .” Evan lowered his eyes again. His throat tightened. “I want you to look out for Lee for me. Look out for the kids.”

  “You’re not going back to jail. You’re going to beat this! We—”

  “Terry, just promise me you’ll take care of them,” Evan said, talking over his brother. “I know you and C. J. will probably want to start a family of your own one day, but... but I don’t want Lee to have to fend for herself. I’ll make sure she’s set financially, but just . . . just watch out for her. Watch out for my little girl, all right?”

  Terrence closed his eyes and then opened them. Gradually, he nodded. “Of course. Of course, I will, Ev! You know I’ll take care of Angelica and Isabel like they were my own. But I won’t have to do that because you’re going to be here to help raise them. There’s no way we’re going to let that son of a bitch win and take you away from Lee and the girls . . . take you away from us.”

  Evan stared up at his brother. He wished he could be as confident as Terrence, but he couldn’t.

  Chapter 6

  Leila

  “Roly-poly, roly-poly, roly-poly,” the women chanted over and over again, filling the workout room with their voices.

  Leila leaned over her infant daughter, who lay on the yoga mat in front of her. She cooed to Angelica as she wiggled the baby’s arms and legs in a circular motion. She gazed into Angelica’s eyes—soulful, dark eyes, much like her father’s—and smiled, enjoying the feel of her daughter’s soft rolls under her fingertips and her comforting baby smell. Angelica gazed back at her with her lips parted, entranced by her mother’s soothing voice.

  “I still don’t understand why we have do it,” Paulette whispered sharply, snapping Leila out of her tranquil reverie. “She doesn’t have any friends who can help her out?”

  Leila glanced at her sister-in-law, who leaned over Little Nate, who was splayed on a yoga mat in front of his mother, though he seemed more interested in eating his toes than in today’s exercise.

  Both women were attending a baby and mommy yoga class at the Chesterton Rec Center to bond with their babies and catch some girl time together, but so far it seemed that Paulette hadn’t gotten the memo that this was supposed to a fun, calming outing. She seemed far from calm; she was downright irritable.

  “We don’t have to do it,” Leila whispered back. “I just thought it would be a nice gesture if we did. You know . . . to help her out. Terry said—”

  “I have better things to do with my life than help some chick I barely know pick out a wedding dress, Lee. You never should’ve told Terry we’d do it, especially without consulting me first.”

  Leila sat back on her shins, releasing a deep breath in exasperation.

  Perhaps Paulette was right. Maybe Leila should not have volunteered herself and Paulette to help C. J. select a wedding gown for her and Terrence’s ceremony in a few months, but she really hadn’t thought it would be that big of a deal. Terrence had been kind to her and the girls while Evan had been in prison, stopping by the mansion at least twice a week to check on them and see if they needed anything. Was it that hard to return the favor?

  Terrence had also mentioned in passing at Evan’s welcome-home party a few weeks ago that C. J. had no one to help her choose a wedding dress. The poor girl had basically been tossed out of her family and had no close girlfriends to rely on. Leila remembered selecting her own gown for her first wedding. It had been a touching moment, having her mother standing behind her in the mirror at the bridal shop. The two women had been in tears as Leila donned her veil and gazed at her reflection. It broke Leila’s heart that C. J. wouldn’t have a similar heartfelt experience with her own mother before she tied the knot.

  “Besides,” Paulette muttered, rolling Nate’s little arms, “I don’t know why they’re making a big deal about it anyway! She probably doesn’t care what dress she gets—just as long as it’s the most expensive one in the store!”

  “Oh, stop,” Leila huffed. “You don’t know that.”

  “She probably wants some crazy elaborate reception, too,” Paulette continued, ignoring Leila, “when they should just keep it simple since he’ll probably be footing the bill anyway. I doubt she’ll pay one dime!”

  At that, Leila gave Paulette the side-eye. She remembered Paulette’s own wedding day, and it hadn’t been understated. Between the Vera Wang dress, bushels and bushels of flowers, the huge wedding party, and extravagant reception, Paulette’s wedding had to have cost well into the six figures. And Paulette hadn’t paid for anything out of her own pocket; Evan had footed the entire bill.

  “You and Ev kept it simple,” Paulette said, turning to Leila. “You didn’t make a big deal about it! Why should they?”

  Leila sighed and gazed down at Angelica again. The infant had grabbed onto her mother’s finger—her ring finger, which now sported a wedding band.

  Yes, she and Evan had finally tied the knot last week in a simple ceremony presided over by the justice of the peace with only Paulette, Terrence, and Diane in attendance. It had lasted all of ten minutes with simple “I do’s,” ending with a peck done so quickly that Leila wondered later if she and Evan had really kissed. He had left soon after to return to his office at Murdoch Conglomerated for a scheduled meeting. And Leila had been left with the feeling that they hadn’t gotten married, but that Evan had simply checked off a line item on his to-do list. Their marriage was one of many things he had wanted to accomplish just in case he did go to jail for a long time.

  Evan wanted her and the girls to be legally protected. Leila respected that. That’s why she didn’t have the heart to tell Evan or anyone else that she would have wanted a bigger wedding. She’d wanted the pomp and circumstance of a church ceremony and an intimate but beautiful reception to celebrate them finally becoming a married couple. Instead, she had gotten an anticlimactic end to the drama that had been her and Evan’s relationship for the past two years—hell, the past twenty years!

  Leila was no longer Evan’s mistress; she was officially Mrs. Evan Murdoch now. But she felt no triumph or even relief. She wore his ring, but she didn’t feel any closer to him. When he wasn’t at the office, he was barricaded in his study on the phone with his lawyers, reviewing his case and going over what could happen to his assets and the Murdoch estate during imprisonment. What little precious free time Evan had, he spent cradling and rocking Angelica or reassuring Isabel, who was terrified of losing yet another father figure to prison. He rarely talked to let alone held Leila anymore. He hadn’t kissed her in days and hadn’t made love to her in weeks, not since that first night after he had returned home from jail.

  But she felt shallow and petty pointing out those things to him. His future and livelihood were in je
opardy. Who cared that she needed a hug or that she longed for reassurance that he still loved and wanted her? She needed to be here for him, to give him all of her support. That’s what mattered.

  “All right, ladies,” the instructor in the front of the class called out, yanking Leila’s attention back. “That brings an end to today’s yoga class. I hope you all enjoyed your special time with the little ones and come back to us next week! Namaste!”

  Wow, it’s the end of the class already, Leila thought bemusedly as she watched all the women rise to their feet, taking their babies with them. She must have been pretty lost in thought not to even notice.

  Leila scooped Angelica into her arms before lowering her into the car seat she had set along the workout room wall. As she buckled the carrier’s straps into place, Paulette wrangled Little Nate into a Baby Björn on her chest. Both women put on their coats and slowly made their way to the doors.

  “Look,” Leila said, hefting the baby carrier at her side, “if you really don’t want to go to the wedding dress shop with us, you don’t have to. It’s not like you’re contractually obligated to do it.”

  “No, I’m not contractually obligated, but you said I would do it, Lee! Now it’ll look messed up if I don’t go. It’ll seem like I don’t like the girl!”

  Leila barked out a laugh as they stepped in the rec center’s hallway. Their voices bounced off the high ceilings and steel lockers surrounding them. “But you don’t like her, Paulette! You’ve made that pretty clear.”

  “I did not say I didn’t like her.” Leila watched as her sister-in-law tossed her long hair over her shoulder and out of reach of Little Nate’s fingers and mouth. “I don’t know enough about her to feel one way or the other—and frankly, neither does Terry! I just don’t understand why he’s jumping into this so fast. They’ve been a couple for less than a year and have already broken up at least once! And didn’t she dump him only to start dating her ex-fiancé again? I mean—”

  “Paulette,” Leila began softly, placing her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder, “Terry is a big boy . . . a grown man! He knows what he’s doing, and he’s allowed to follow his heart. He’s been supportive of you and your brother in all the decisions you guys have made, right?”

  Paulette paused. Her face went somber.

  “So cut him a break,” Leila said. “Support him this time!”

  Paulette stared down at the crown of Little Nate’s head. “But she could really hurt him! You remember what he was like right after his accident—when his depression was at its worst.”

  “I do.” Leila nodded. “I also remember that it was his relationship with C. J. that helped him get better.”

  Paulette sucked her teeth. “I’d credit his therapist for that.”

  “Either way, he’s asking for our help this time around . . . and he’s not asking for a lot. It’s just a bridal appointment. A couple of hours at most. You can do that, right?”

  After some time, Paulette raised her eyes and loudly grumbled. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “Good,” Leila said, beaming. “Now let’s move on to more important matters, like lunch. Miss Tracey said she was making something special today. I’m eager to see what it is.”

  Miss Tracey had been the cook at the Murdoch Mansion for the past thirty years. She had been recruited by the late Angela Murdoch during the early days of her marriage.

  “Gah, I miss Miss Tracey’s food so much!” Paulette exclaimed as they pushed through the heavy steel doors to the parking lot. “It’s one of the perks of living at the mansion that I miss the most!” She smirked. “Maybe I’ll steal her and get her to cook at my house instead.”

  “Are you sure you want to get into a bidding war with Ev?”

  Paulette quickly shook her head. “Oh, no! Nope! No thank you!”

  * * *

  Less than a half hour later, Leila pulled Evan’s Range Rover into the mansion’s circular driveway. When she did, she whipped off her sunglasses and peered at the spectacle in front of her. Her mouth hung open, agape.

  Leila watched as three men clad in dark suits unloaded suitcases and shopping bags from three Lincoln Town Cars parked in front of the stone steps. They all carried the suitcases to the open French doors. Several more suitcases sat on the ground behind each sedan’s bumper.

  “What in the . . .” Leila murmured.

  Evan hadn’t mentioned that any guests would be arriving at the mansion today—but it looked like they were getting a visit from someone. Whoever it was had brought enough luggage to clothe a small army.

  A minute later, Leila was cradling a slumbering Angelica against her chest. She shut the driver’s side door, still transfixed by all the luggage streaming out of the open trunks.

  “What in the world is going on?” Paulette asked behind her, making Leila jump, startled. She hadn’t realized that her sister-in-law had been standing there.

  “I have no idea.” She lifted her diaper bag and tossed the strap over her shoulder. “Guess we better find out.”

  They mounted the stone steps and walked through the open doorway. When they did, Leila saw an elderly woman standing near the staircase, pointing to one of the portraits on the entryway walls. A handsome young man in his mid to late twenties stood at her side with a fur coat thrown over his arm, smiling in the direction she was pointing.

  The woman had creamy, wrinkled skin in sharp contrast to the jet-black, curly afro that was closely cropped to her head. She wore a tight-fitting, V-necked red dress that was cut so low in the front it barely contained her bountiful bosom. A bright pink Birkin bag dangled at her elbow. A sizable diamond bracelet hung from her wrist. When Leila and Paulette walked into the foyer, she turned and tore off her Chanel sunglasses. She grinned.

  “Here they come now!” she said, tapping the younger man’s shoulder. “I told you someone would come home eventually, Michael. You were worried for no reason, honey! I told you we wouldn’t have to fend for ourselves!”

  “Aunt . . . Aunt Ida?” Paulette said, squinting at the woman.

  “In the flesh, girl!” Aunt Ida exclaimed, throwing out her wingy arms with a flourish.

  Leila stared in shock. Aunt Ida? This was the Aunt Ida?

  Leila knew Paulette, Evan, and Terrence had an aunt—their father, George’s, only surviving sibling—who lived on the other side of world. Since her twenties, Aunt Ida had spent her days using the Murdoch money to fund her jet-setting lifestyle, hopping from homes in St. Croix to Paris, marrying four husbands along the way. Aunt Ida held from a generation in their family before they were called the Marvelous Murdochs in Chesterton, just the “high-yella Murdochs.”

  In the twenty-plus years Leila had known their family, she had never met Aunt Ida in person, but it looked like she was finally meeting the mysterious woman today.

  Aunt Ida chuckled as she sauntered toward them. “I’d give you a hug, Paulette, if you didn’t have the little rug rat strapped to you. I don’t want to crush him, and frankly, I’m allergic to babies. It’s the reason why I never pushed one out. So you’re just gonna have to settle for a kiss on the cheek instead.”

  She leaned forward and did exactly that, catching Paulette off guard.

  “Well, look at you, all grown up!” she cried, rubbing Paulette’s arms. “I see you have your mama’s genetics . . . the pretty face and that lovely, thick hair!” She looked Paulette up and down. Her smile disappeared. “And those hips . . . You know, Angela couldn’t lose the baby weight, either, no matter how hard she tried! I hope your husband likes ’em thick, honey, or he might turn you in for a slimmer model!”

  Leila’s mouth fell open again—this time in outrage at the older woman’s rudeness. Who the hell did she think she was?

  “Aunt . . . Aunt Ida . . . what are you doing here?” Paulette sputtered.

  “Well,” the older woman began as she strolled around the foyer, gazing up at the high ceilings, “I decided it was about time I pay the homestead a visit to see what the hell was g
oing on, considering that my Murdoch Conglomerated stock is now worth only half of what it was six months ago. It seems that boy, Evan, is running the company into the ground, and I wanted to find out what he plans to do to make it right again before we all end up in the poorhouse! Since he doesn’t seem to—”

  “Ev’s doing everything in his power to save Murdoch Conglomerated,” Leila said, stepping forward, drawing Aunt Ida’s attention. “And he didn’t run the company into the ground. He’s the one who made it better. If you want to blame anyone for ruining the company, blame Dante Turner. It was his false charges that landed Evan in this mess in the first place!”

  The older woman inclined her head and squinted up at Leila. “And who might you be?”

  “I’m Leila Murdoch,” she said, pushing back her shoulders. “I’m Evan’s wife.”

  “Really?” Aunt Ida cried. “I was under the impression that Evan’s wife was a blond white woman.”

  “That was his first wife—Charisse. I’m his second.”

  “His second. Already?” The older woman threw back her head and laughed. “Well, it seems Evan’s personal life is going along just as splendidly as his business sense!”

  “Excuse me?” Leila said, dropping a hand to her hip. She was about to give Aunt Ida a piece of her mind just as the older woman waved forward the young man who had been silently standing near the staircase newel posts.

  “Come over here, Michael, honey! Say hi to Paulette and Leila here. Meet my niece and my new niece-in-law!”

  He did as the older woman ordered, strolling toward them with a brilliant smile. He stood a little over six feet with light eyes, tan skin, and a face that looked like he could star in his own Ralph Lauren ad.

  “Paulette and Leila, meet Michael . . . my fiancé,” she gushed, linking arms with him.

  “Your fiancé?” Paulette choked.

  Good God, Leila thought with disgust. She’s old enough to be his damn grandmother!

  “Pleased to meet you,” Michael said, offering his hand to Paulette first.

  Paulette seemed to hesitate before giving his hand a quick shake.