by July Hall
Earrings: diamonds 27.03 carats, emeralds 80.03 carats
That sounded like a lot.
And every single piece was flawless. This wasn’t your ordinary jewelry; this was what princesses wore to their weddings, what queens wore to their coronations. You passed jewelry like this down through generations. You named it.
She couldn’t look away. She could only hear the roar of blood in her ears. Maybe she was about to pass out. These jewels were worth more than she’d make in three years. Maybe a lot more. They probably cost more to insure than she brought home in a month.
I’m a very rich man, and I want to spend money on you. Charles had told her that, right at the beginning. She’d told him not to. She didn’t want hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of emeralds around her neck, weighing her down, choking her.
She wanted him. Only him. She wanted the rest of the world to buzz off, wanted to come and go as she pleased, knowing that she was with him because she wanted to be. She would go back again and again to Charles for love alone.
The roar of blood in her ears turned into a dull, rhythmic, thudding sound.
Here was her payment for being a secret. Or maybe it was an apology for how Richard Zhou had treated her, for Meiling’s scorn. This jewelry would soothe Charles’s conscience and make up for all that humiliation. It was the currency of mistresses the world over. Their consolation prize.
Stop being stupid, she told herself, stop being spoiled, stop being so goddamn high-and-mighty. Get over yourself and figure this out. Her inner voice sounded remarkably like Kristen.
“Sandra, are you okay? What’s going on?”
That sounded like Kristen too. In fact, when Sandra looked up, she saw that it was Kristen, looming over the table with a scared look on her face. The door stood open, and a security guard was standing in the doorway, also looking concerned.
“You’ve been in here for fifteen minutes,” Kristen said. “We knocked and nobody answered.”
Oh. Maybe that’s what the thudding noise had been.
Kristen added, “I thought you’d passed out or someth…” She glanced down at the open jewelry case. Sandra was utterly paralyzed.
“Wow,” Kristen said. “Is this the thing for that guy’s house? Your client? You said…” She looked at Sandra’s face again. Her eyes widened at whatever she saw there.
Then she turned toward the security guard. “Hey, can I have a minute with my sister?”
“Miss?” the guard asked Sandra with a frown. Sandra felt her head bob up and down in a nod. “All right, miss. You just knock on the door.” He left and closed the heavy door behind him.
Kristen dragged the second chair next to Sandra’s and flopped down in it so she could look over the jewels. “Okay,” she said. “Spill. What’s happening? Is your client, like, some international jewel thief?” She gave a hesitant, unconvincing laugh.
“No.” Sandra licked her lips. Your client. Someone who paid her. Who gave her expensive things because she snuck into his house, fucked him, and snuck back out again.
It’s not like that, she told herself. Now her inner voice sounded like her, pleading and desperate. That’s not how he sees you. He dances with you, and he buys you flowers, and he rubs your back…
“This is insane,” Kristen said, looking over the jewels. “God. You don’t ever think you’re going to see something like this in person unless it’s behind a glass case. It’s…” Her voice trailed off, and she sounded a little embarrassed when she said, “It’s a total waste of money, but it’s really pretty.”
Sandra gulped. “It is.”
“Oh,” Kristen added, “looks like there’s a note.”
Sandra watched her sister pluck out a square of heavy cream-colored stationery from the lid. She hadn’t even noticed it when she’d opened the jewelry case. “No,” she gasped, grabbing at it, “give me that!”
Too late. Kristen had already read at least part of it. When Sandra snatched the paper from her hands, Kristen said in bewilderment, “Wear it to the wedding?”
Sandra looked at the paper in shock. Yes, that was Charles’s handwriting.
Fox,
Wear this to the wedding. You’ll outshine them all.
Keep it stored in the bank until then. And come to me tonight. I will be waiting for you. You like it when I wait.
C.
She felt a bump at her shoulder. Never one for courtesy, Kristen was craning her neck to read the rest. “You’ll outshine them?” she said. “Somebody’s waiting for you?”
Sandra closed her eyes.
“Sandra, what the hell,” Kristen said. “These are for you? Are you back with Bradley? Or is this…that Larry guy? No, it’s signed with a ‘C’…” Her voice trailed off again as she looked back at the note.
“Okay,” she said after a moment, “unless Bradley’s nickname is ‘Choad,’ which it ought to be—”
“Kristen,” Sandra whispered.
“We’re going to have to go with something else. And who else have you been hanging out with…” Kristen leaned back in her chair, stared up at the ceiling, and exhaled an enormous whoosh of air. “Who is filthy goddamn rich, and whose name begins with ‘C’?” She ran a hand through her hair. “Wow, what a gigantic mystery.”
“Please,” Sandra said, her hands shaking while she gripped the note.
“You’re out of your mind,” Kristen said. She turned to level a disbelieving stare at Sandra. “You’re fucking Charles Magister, aren’t you?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sandra looked at the curl of her sister’s lip and heard the echo of her disgusted voice just beneath the ringing in her own ears.
Then she slammed the jewelry case shut, threw it back in the box, and locked it up. She rose to her feet, ran for the door, and started banging on it with all her might.
She heard chair legs screech on the floor behind her. “Sandra, hey!” Kristen said. “Whoah, calm down! I’m sorry, let’s just—”
The door opened, and the guard said, “Is everything okay, miss?”
“Yes, thanks for your help,” Sandra gasped, and pelted past him, down the hallway and toward the lobby. Everything looked blurry. Her chest ached.
She’d thought Meiling was bad? She’d been an idiot. Nothing could compare to her own flesh and blood looking right at her and parroting her worst fears. And if “I can fry my brain on pot if I want to” Kristen reacted this way, what about their parents?
She bolted through the doors of the bank and stopped on the sidewalk to dig in her purse for her phone. She had to talk to Charles. She had to find out what the hell he’d been thinking to do something like this. Springing hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of precious stones on her with no warning? He needed to tell her—
A hand grabbed her elbow. “Sandra, wait,” Kristen panted. “I’m sorry, okay? That came out all wrong.”
“No, it didn’t,” Sandra said, still rummaging for her phone. She refused to look at Kristen. “You said exactly what you were thinking.”
“But I wasn’t thinking,” Kristen pleaded. “Come on, please. Let’s go and…what are you doing?”
Sandra pulled her phone out of her bag. “I’m calling the guy I’m fucking,” she spat. Two passing pedestrians gave her the stink-eye. “Go away. Go home and get high.”
“Um, no,” Kristen said, grabbing hold of Sandra’s hand. “Get mad at me all you want, but this is not the state you want to call anybody in, okay?”
Sandra met her eyes.
“Oh God, Sandra, don’t cry. I really am sorry. Listen, come on and talk to me. We’ll just talk. It’ll be okay.”
“I’m not crying,” Sandra croaked. Then she dashed her hand over her cheeks. “Oh God.”
“Come on. You’re scaring me.” For the first time since the last family picture, her sister put an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t call anybody right now. Let’s go, come on.”
A few minutes later, Sandra found herself sitting at a table in a ch
ic coffee shop across the street. A group of women had commandeered the table’s second chair, so Kristen sat in the bay window, ignoring the baristas’ glares. “Here,” she said, holding out a latte. “It’s got all that pumpkin spice crap you like.”
Sandra sipped it and closed her eyes at the sweet taste. “Thanks,” she husked.
“Yeah.” Kristen leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees while she peered at Sandra. “Who else knows?”
Sandra studied the table to buy time. It was covered in rings that made thick, deep etchings in the dark wood and had been worn smooth over time. A “rustic” piece designed to give a ritzy Upper East Side coffee shop a little more character. Finally she said, “Nobody. Except—” She winced. “His staff. Some of them.” Plus some people in China. Who knew how many? It wasn’t like Richard Zhou had any reason to respect their privacy.
Kristen exhaled and said, “Oh, man. How long has it been going on?”
Sandra gulped. “Since I broke up with Bradley.”
“Jeez, Sandra.” Kristen sighed. “No offense, but this is the worst rebound idea ever.”
“It’s not a rebound!” Sandra said, shocked. Though she might have been just as shocked at herself; she’d never once thought of her relationship with Charles in that light. In hindsight, that was pretty weird.
“So what is it, revenge?” Kristen tilted her head to the side. “Are you getting back at him?”
“I’m not getting back at anybody.” Sandra swallowed. It hurt. “Bradley doesn’t know. It’d be a pretty lame revenge.”
“So what is it? Sandra, do you know how scared you look right now?” At that, Sandra looked at her sister, right into her gray-blue eyes that were sharper than she’d ever seen them. “Is this guy making you do this? Is he forcing you into anything?”
“Forcing me!” Under other circumstances—maybe very drunk ones—Sandra could have laughed herself sick. The idea of Charles forcing her to stay at his side. He’d never, because it would be a shitty thing to do, and moreover, because he didn’t want to. “Nobody’s forcing me to do anything. I’m with him because I l—” She caught herself. “—I like being with him.”
But Kristen had her psychology major antennae on. “Sandra, you’re Miss Neat and Tidy,” she said. She dropped her voice into a whisper. “You’re scr…you’re with your ex’s uncle on the downlow. That’s a recipe for crazy drama. This isn’t something you’d do just for the hell of it.”
“No, it isn’t.” Sandra took another sip of her latte and kept her eyes on the table.
“And you didn’t—” Now Kristen sounded more hesitant. “You didn’t seem all that stoked about the jewels.”
Sandra shivered. “I’m not.”
“Are you in love with him?” Kristen asked. Sandra didn’t look up. “Holy shit.” She put her hand on Sandra’s shoulder. “Hey, look at me.”
Sandra did. Kristen’s expression hadn’t gotten any less worried. “I’ve never seen you like this,” Kristen said. “You’re all messed up. How long have you even known this guy?” She squinted. “You met him at that party, right? When was that? Not so long ago. It was right before you dumped Bradley. Right? Holy shit,” she repeated, her eyes widening. “Is that why you dumped him? To get with his uncle?”
“No,” Sandra said at once. “No, it wasn’t like that. It was because…” She’d promised Charles. She couldn’t tell Kristen the whole truth. “Look, Bradley’s an asshole, and you know it. You always knew it. Let’s leave it at that.”
“And his uncle isn’t? That’s not what I heard. Bradley bitched about him all the time.”
“Yeah. Because he’s an asshole. Mr. Magis…” Shit. “Charles isn’t like Bradley says. He expects a lot from people, but it’s nothing they can’t do. Bradley just hated working.”
“Uh-huh.” Kristen sounded like she wasn’t really listening. She whipped out her phone and started typing. “Let’s see what I can find about your ‘Mr. Magister.’ Wow. Did you know he has his own Wikipedia page?”
Sandra squirmed. “Of course I know.” She’d read it. It was mostly about Charles’s business conquests and very little about his personal life. It didn’t even mention that he’d been married once or that he didn’t have kids. And the part where he’d taken over the company from his dad was pretty thin, too.
She wondered if somebody from the company made sure it stayed that way.
Sure enough, Kristen looked dissatisfied as she read. “Not much juicy stuff, but he sure likes buying subsidiaries. Huh, his father died right after he took over?” She gave Sandra a narrow-eyed look. “You sure you’re not hooked up with a patricide?”
“Oh my God,” Sandra said.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Looks like it was a heart attack. But come on, look at these numbers. He takes over the company, Daddy bites the dust, and Magister Enterprises starts growing like—” Kristen waved her hand. “I don’t know, the Blob. This is classic Freud.” She blinked at Sandra. “Serious question: was his mom a redhead?”
“You are crazy,” Sandra said, and added, “I…I have no idea.”
“The Wikipedia article doesn’t even mention his mom. What was her name?”
“I don’t know,” Sandra admitted. “He’s never said. Kristen, come on, that’s—”
“Gee, I can’t believe you haven’t talked about it,” Kristen said. “You guys have been together forever.”
“Kristen!” Sandra looked around the coffee shop, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to them. “The sarcasm isn’t really going to help, okay?”
“Look, I’m sorry,” Kristen said. “But I’ve got a point. You know I do. You two have been a thing for, what, a month or something? And he’s buying you the crown jewels, and you’re in love with him. And…” She waved the phone in Sandra’s face. Charles looked at her from his Wikipedia profile, stern and unsmiling. “He owns about half of planet Earth.”
“Not half. Maybe a third.” The joke fell flat. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You weren’t supposed to find out. Nobody is.”
“Why? Is he ashamed of you?” Kristen demanded.
Sandra’s face scalded. “No!” Surely not. Charles had told her he was lucky to be with her. When he’d apologized for dropping the ball in front of Meiling Yu, that was because it had embarrassed Sandra, not the other way around. Right? “It’s not like that. It’s just…” She looked around the coffee shop again. “It’d be a scandal. We don’t want that.”
“What’s so scandalous?” Kristen sounded genuinely bewildered. “He’s not married. You said you were already broken up with Bradley. Nobody’s cheating.”
Sandra gave her sister a level look. “Do you really think that’s all there is to it?” she asked. Her voice sounded as cool as Charles’s. “Think it through, okay? What was literally the first thing out of your mouth when you figured it out?”
Kristen looked down at her knees. “I said I was sorry.”
“I don’t want people saying that about me,” Sandra said. “And by ‘people,’ I mean ‘literally everyone he knows.’” Her clients, his associates. “I’m younger than he is, I’m poorer than he is, I dated his nephew, and if my own sister thought the worst about me, so will everybody else.” She shuddered. “Guess what Mom and Dad would say?”
She didn’t have to guess, though. She knew. Mom and Dad would never think Sandra was a gold digger, but they’d work out immediately that she was in love with Charles. Then they’d ask how he felt about her, and she’d have to admit that no, things weren’t as serious for him, but that was okay, it really was…and her parents would feel sorry for her.
That would be worse than all the rest combined.
“God.” Kristen looked almost awed at the thought. “Mom would flip her shit.” She bit her lip. “We should probably hide the shotgun before you introduce them.”
“Nobody’s flipping anything or shooting anybody! Or introducing anybody.” Sandra tightened her grip on the cooling coffee mug. “Look, you cannot t
ell anyone. Not Mom and Dad, definitely not your study group, I don’t care how high you get. Promise me.”
Kristen seemed to hesitate.
“Dammit, Kristen!” Sandra cried. “It’s my secret, not yours!”
“Is he worth it?” Kristen asked. “Listen to yourself. You’re keeping secrets, and if they get out, you’re saying your life would be ruined. This is messing with your head, Sandra, and you hardly know him.” She squirmed on the windowsill. “If it’s still so early…maybe you should just get out before it all blows up.”
Get out? Sandra fought down a surge of actual nausea. She wanted to rail at Charles for his insensitivity and demand to know what he was thinking. But leave him? Before she had to?
Kristen was right. She was totally fucked.
After seconds passed in which Sandra did not respond, Kristen looked down at her phone again. “He’s not even that hot.”
“Wh—yes, he is,” Sandra snapped. “He so is!”
“Is he better in person?” Kristen started scrolling downward. “Wikipedia only has one picture. His nose is kind of crooked.”
“So?” Sandra liked his nose. It added character. “Bradley looks like a supermodel. That doesn’t mean anything.” That came out all wrong. “I mean, Charles is plenty hot.”
“Yeah? Because Google just found a bunch of pictures, and he’s not smiling in any of them.” Kristen frowned at Sandra. “Maybe he runs the company to compensate for something. Is he hung?”
Sandra’s jaw dropped. Her face filled with heat. Kristen raised both eyebrows and looked kind of impressed. “Just daddy issues, then,” she concluded.
Sandra wished she could deny it, but Charles definitely had daddy issues, even if she didn’t know exactly what they were. That wasn’t the point, though. “What do you want me to say?” she asked.
“Tell me how it happened,” Kristen said. She looked at her phone, then back at Sandra and shook her head. “How did you get yourself into this?”
Sandra had been asking herself that question for weeks, but she went back to the beginning and walked Kristen through the edited version of her story. She described the attraction she’d felt from the moment she’d met Charles. She even said they kissed in his office, though she left out the part where he’d literally tried to rip her shirt off. She also left out the parts about Bradley banging hookers and just said that he cheated on her, as if it was some woman he picked up in a bar.