Storm Ravaged (Storm Damages 2) (Storm Legacy)

by Alexander, Magda

  He helps me to my feet. “Better go take a nap.”

  “And will you join me?”

  “No. I’m going to take a shower. I need to get this scent off me.” While I’d been holding a perfectly innocuous bottle of island scents, he’d held a bottle of gardenia, the perfume I wore when we first met.

  “Gabriel?” He won’t meet my gaze. Could the scent have jogged his memory? Scent is the most powerful of all the senses.

  “Gabriel? Do you remember?”

  Before he answers he turns to the guards. “Leave us.” He waits until they’re gone before he answers, “Yes.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s great.” I jump off the couch, throw my arms around him. But when I embrace him, he stiffens up. “What’s wrong?”

  “I remember all of it. How we met in the elevator, having sex in your townhouse, your office. London. Winterleagh Castle. You stealing my documents from the Southwind deal and handing them to your boss.”

  My breath hitches. How could I have forgotten what I’d told him? I’d been so happy since our wedding day, and now everything is ruined. “I didn’t. It wasn’t me.”

  He goes for his crutch, the hotel’s drink car. “You admitted it that last night in London.”

  “I lied to protect you. To lend credence to my breakup.”

  “Let’s say for a moment I believe you. Who stole those papers then?”

  “I don’t know, but I have my suspicions. I think it was Brian Sullivan.”

  He barks out a joyless laugh. “The man never entered our suite, unless you let him in.” His eyes narrow.

  “Of course I didn’t let him in. He didn’t even know I was in your suite. I think he arranged something with the concierge.”

  “Nigel’s been there for ages. Doubt he would take a bribe.”

  “Nigel, is it? How do you know his name?” A nasty suspicion enters my head.

  “I’ve stayed at the hotel before.”

  “Is that where you took your women, Storm? To fuck them in the same suite you fucked me?”

  A ruddy color tinges his face. “I’m not going to answer those questions.”

  “You don’t have to. The answer is written all over your face. God, how could you? How could you make love to me at the same place? Was that all I was to you? A cheap fuck?”

  He lets out a curse before limping to the hotel bar, pouring another whiskey into a glass, and knocking it back. “I had liaisons in that hotel, yes, but never in that suite. And you were never a cheap fuck.”

  I brace my arms around my stomach, tell myself to calm down. This is not good for the baby, not good for me.

  “Why do you suspect Brian Sullivan?”

  I collapse on the sofa. “The morning I returned from your penthouse, he gave Nigel some money and the concierge handed an envelope to him.”

  “Probably theater or sightseeing tickets.”

  “That’s what I thought at the time. But what if it was a flash drive?” I can tell by the look in his eye, he’s not convinced. “Somebody else copied those documents, Gabriel. It wasn’t me.”

  For a minute he stares at his empty glass as if the answer’s to be found at its bottom. “You expect me to believe you when all evidence points to the contrary?”

  “Yes!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m your wife.”

  “My wife.” He lets out a mirthless laugh. “Am I supposed to believe you hold the sacrament dear, when you’re so eager for it to end? You didn’t want to marry me not until my mother called and threatened you. You would have gladly made our child a bastard out of sheer stubbornness and pride.”

  “Pride? What are you talking about?”

  “You wear your independence like a badge of honor. Bound and determined to allow no man to take care of you.”

  “I depended on Casey.”

  “You were a child then. And I’m damn glad he was around to do so. Otherwise God knows where you would have ended up.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you insinuating I would have turned into a prostitute like my mother?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He brushes a hand across his brow. “Look, I’m sorry. Getting my memory back. It’s a lot to deal with. I need time to process. Time to think.”

  I should know better, but I can’t let it go. I have to make him understand. “I wanted to stand on my own two feet. And I would have done so if you hadn’t come along.”

  “Oh, so I ruined your life’s plans.”

  “You tell me, Gabriel. Before I met you, I planned to graduate from law school, work as a corporate attorney, make enough money to have a decent life. And now I have a death threat hanging over my head, I’m pregnant, and married to a maniac who doesn’t let me out of his sight.”

  “You’re living in the lap of luxury, with more money than you’d ever dreamed of at your disposal.”

  “I’m a bird in a gilded cage. Can’t go anywhere without it being approved by someone. Can’t even go into the ladies’ room without a guard to hear me pee. This is not what I wanted from life. I want what I had. I want my life back.”

  “This is your life. The child you carry. Me. Get used to it.”

  “Only for a year and a month. After that, we’re through.”

  He works his jaw, eyes blazing. Turning, he goes for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out.”

  “When are yo coming back?”

  “What do you care, Elizabeth?”

  “I care.” I say in a small voice. We’d been so happy and now everything’s ruined.

  “If you’re worried about your safety, don’t be. You have four guards outside the door watching over you.”

  “Gabriel!”

  But he’s all ready gone.

  “And now I have a death threat hanging over my head. All because A prostitute like my mother. I get down on my knees every day and thank him for the sacrifices he made. I couldn’t take more from him. He’d done enough.”

  “Funny how you cut im loose when I came along.”

  “Are ou suggesting I latched onto you?”

  “No. No man will get the better ofyou. No You shall not depent on any man to take care of you.You’d say that now

  Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.

  Chapter 30

  ______________

  Gabriel

  “MASTER GABE, how good to see you.”

  “Tilly, how are you?” Not that I need to ask. There’s a golden glow to her skin and she’s gained weight. At least a stone.

  “Happy as a clam at high tide.”

  I laugh. “Island life suits you.”

  “That it does.” She leans back, pins a wise eye on me. “What brings you to St. Thomas? You didn’t travel all the way down here just to see me.”

  “You always could see right through me. I’m on my honeymoon.”

  She claps her hands in front of her. “Ms. Watson?”

  I nod.

  “Oh.” She claps her hands together. “I plumb knew it. You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?”

  Sweet doesn’t begin to cover it. My face heats up. “You might say that.”

  “Oh, you can’t fool old Tilly. You’re in love with her.”

  “Yes. She’s expecting our child, a son.”

  “Oh, a sweet boy. He’ll be your heir, won’t he?” Her face darkens. “Keep her away from him.”

  She doesn’t have to spell out who ‘her’ is. “She won’t be allowed any where near my son.”

  “Good. Would you like some tea?”

  “That would be lovely, Tilly. If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” While she busies herself in the kitchen, my gaze drifts over the bungalow I bought for her. Right by the beach as she wanted. Just far enough she’ll need to walk only about twenty feet or so. I spot her knitting basket, needles sticking out, balls of different colored wool. She’s knitting?

  “Knitting wool scarfs, Tilly?�
�

  “Gives this old hands something to do.”

  “You need anything, anything at all?” I want to make sure she’s as happy as can be. She did me a favor by revealing what she saw and keeping quiet about it to boot.

  “What could I possibly want, Master Gabe. You gave me my freedom. And you pay for everything else. You’ve been too generous. I don’t know what to do with most of the money you deposited in my account.”

  “Least I could do after everything my mother put you through for the last forty years.”

  “How is she?”

  “The same.”

  “Up to no good then.”

  “Yes.” I don’t provide her with any more information.

  “Keeping your eye on her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  She pours out the tea, hands me a cup. Orange pekoe. Her favorite. “And how are my other babies?”

  While we have tea we talk about Brianna and Royce.

  She tsks tsks when I tell her about Royce’s fever. “One day that boy’s gonna get tangled up in something he can’t get out of.”

  “That’s why things are going to change. On his next trip, he will have somebody with him. He just won’t realize who it is.”

  I help myself to a biscuit before I broach the subject I’m curious about. “Tilly, my mother mentioned a secret my father kept.The biggest secret of all, she said. Do you have any idea what it could be?”

  She closes her eyes, and for a minute, she rolls back and forth on the rocking chair. A minute later, she opens her eyes. “Not sure, but it probably has to do with Brianna.”

  “Brianna?” Not something I expected.

  “Your mother locked her bedroom against the Earl after Royce was born. But he got good and drunk one night and broke down her door. She screamed at him, cursed him something awful. With the door left open, everybody in the castle heard them.”

  “Did he hit here?”

  “No, it wasn’t hitting he had in mind. Eight and a half months later, Brianna was born.”

  “Good God.” His father raped his mother? Was that her secret? But what would she hope to prove after all these years. Wait. “Eight and a half months?”

  “Almost from the beginning your mother had problems, spotting and such. At eight months, she almost lost the baby. They rushed her to the hospital. Kept her there for two weeks until your sister was born. She never cottoned to Brianna. Hated her from the get go. Maybe it was all the trouble she’d gone through or the way she was conceived.”

  For a moment, I feel sorry for my mother. She’d endured my father’s violence only to discover his seed had taken root inside of her, an everlasting reminder of that night. “But my father cared about Brianna.” I’d never seen them together when there hadn’t been a smile on his face.

  “Yes. He adored his little princess. Strange, since he never involved himself with the rearing of you and your brothers.”

  “I’m glad she had him.” Even if that fatherly affection had gone missing when my mother ordered me whipped.

  “Your mother, she was plumb jealous of all the attention he showered on Brianna. One night he was hanging over her crib talking to her while your mother watched from the shadows. The look on her face. Lord. Hate, love, jealousy. She tried to strangle Brianna the next day.”

  I let out a curse.

  But Tilly doesn’t stop her rocking, like the instance was just one more of the same. “The earl stopped her, threatened to strangle her if anything happened to Brianna. And then he took the baby to London and gave her to a nanny to raise, a no-nonsense Scots woman, brawny enough to take on even your mother Brianna did not return to Winterleagh until she was four years old, and she always had her nanny with her.”

  Good God. The hits just keep coming with my family. And now, I’ve made a hash of things with Elizabeth. Something I have to fix if I want any kind of future with her. “I better go. Elizabeth’s waiting for me.”

  “You take right good care of her, Master Gabe.”

  “I am.” I bend over, kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you, Tilly, for everything. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “I have everything I need.”

  On my way back to the hotel I ponder my conversation with Elizabeth. Regardless of what it looks like, I owe her an apology and my trust. She’s my wife. At the very least, I can have Jake start an investigation, have him check into the hotel to see if there’s any truth to Elizabeth’s assertions.

  I’ve always found it difficult to trust. A bequest from my mother. Why should I trust anyone else unless I know I can count on them? And Elizabeth has fought me every step of the way which is why I took the necessary steps to ensure she married me.

  But if she swears she didn’t copy the papers, don’t I owe her the benefit of the doubt? She’s my wife after all. And the soon-to-be mother of my child. Yes, she lied to me. In London. In Washington, when she told me I may not be the father because she’d had sex with other men. At the time I suspected she was lying. Don’t ask me how I know, but she did no such thing. There was too much between us for her to fuck another man. Plain and simple, she lied to protect me, to prevent me from gaining knowledge about my mother’s perfidy. So the least I can do is give her the benefit of the doubt and have Jake investigate the hotel staff. I can also ask Carrey about the documents, where he got them, who gave them to him. I don’t think he would refuse to tell me, not now when Storm Industries is a client.

  On the way back to the hotel, I think about Tilly. Should I arrange for security for her as well? Wouldn’t hurt. We haven’t gotten to the bottom of the unknown call she made. The tech’s still working on it, something about the signal being pinged around the world. But he’s got some high tech gadget that will work the signal back to the receiver. Only a matter of time before we find out.

  I find Elizabeth fast asleep on the suite’s king-size bed. Feeling like shite, I lean over and drop a kiss on her head. That’s when I notice the damp pillow and the track of tears on her cheeks. A pain stabs at me. I did this to her. Me and my arrogance and my lack of trust.

  It’s close to dinner time. I should wake her, but all I want to do is crawl into bed with her, so I do just that. But when I wrap my arm around her center and draw her to me, she stirs awake.

  “Where did you go?”

  “To see an old friend.” I trust her, but I don’t want her to know the whole ugly truth about my mother. She knows enough. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said the things I said.”

  “No. You shouldn’t have.” She heaves out a deep sigh. “And I shouldn’t have either. I don’t hate being married to you.”

  “You don’t?” I nibble her shoulder. She smells of the frangipani perfume and of clean soap.

  “No. There are some rather nice benefits to it.”

  “Such as?”

  Biting down on her lip, she peeks up at me through her lashes “Well, you’re rather a good kisser.”

  “Am I?” I drop a kiss on her throat.

  “And you’re better than average in bed.”

  “Better thn average?” I smack her on the bum.

  She giggles. “Good you’re good in bed.”

  “Elizabeth.” A distinct warning in my voice.

  She heaves out a deep sigh of contentment. “I love when you say my name.” She curls her arms around my neck and draws me down to her. “Mr. Storm, you rock my world.”

  To say the least, dinner is delayed.

  Late at night, my mobile rings. One of my guards. “Mr. Storm. The USVI police is here. They have some questions for you.”

  What the blazes could they want at this time of night? I glance at my mobile. It’s fucking 2 o’clock in the morning.

  Elizabeth stirs. But I tell her to go back to sleep, throw on a robe and pad to the suite’s door.

  Outside, two-beefy looking individuals flash their badges at me. I let them in. “What can I do for you?”

  “Are you Gabriel Storm?”

&
nbsp; “Yes.”

  “Do you know Matilda Phillips?”

  Tilly’s name. “Yes.”

  “You visited her this afternoon.”

  “Yes. What’s wrong? Did something happen to her?”

  “She was murdered in her home, stabbed to death.”

  Chapter 31

  ______________

  London

  Elizabeth

  IT’S BEEN TEN DAYS SINCE I LEFT THE ISLAND where Gabriel’s still being held. Apparently, he was the last one to see Tilly alive. They’d tracked him down through the car service. Limos rarely visited that part of the island, so when one showed up it’d sparked the curiosity of several neighbors, one going so far as to take a picture with her camera phone. So when police canvassed the neighborhood, she’d contributed her bit of news and the photo which led the police to Gabriel.

  Originally taken in ‘for questioning,’ he’s now being held for suspicion of murder based on his fingerprints being found on the murder weapon—a knitting needle stabbed into Tilly’s heart. We haven’t talked since they took him, but Jake’s kept me informed. The company’s lawyer along with a criminal attorney have flown to the island. Jake hired additional investigators, island natives who knew the lay of the land, to get to the bottom of the murder. But seemingly the wheels of justice grind slowly in the Virgin Islands, and things are not moving along as fast as we wish.

  From the island, they flew me to D.C. where I remained only long enough to take my finals. After the last test, I wasn’t even given a chance to go home and pack, but had been driven directly from law school to the airport and dumped unceremoniously in Gabriel’s corporate jet. Marisol and Jorge had flown with me. An ominous sign, for it could only mean one thing. Our household was being transferred to London.

  After ten days of not being allowed to so much as breathe the balcony air outside Gabriel’s penthouse, I’m going stir crazy. With Christmas fast approaching, I long for at least a glimpse of the holiday spirit to brighten my mood. Marisol and Jorge have done their best decorating the place, providing festive meals. But I miss the holiday sights. No matter how busy I’d been with school and work in D.C., I always made time to visit the White House and Capitol Christmas trees. And London seems a veritable feast for the senses, what with Buckingham Palace and the Tower of London, never mind the shopping on Bond Street.