“You’ve got quite a fan club,” Jules said as he reversed the car.
Alex shot her an annoyed look.
“I had to hear them talk about you from the third floor to here. It was torturous,” Jules was amused at his obvious discomfort.
“What did they say?” Alex said as if not wanting to hear the reply.
“They kept talking about how rough you are in bed,” Jules continued, teasing him. “How come I’ve been denied of that pleasure?”
“I thought you like it slow,” He sounded annoyed. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But if you wanted me to be rough Jules, you only had to say the word.”
She remembered his tender and gentle movements when they had sex. The way he had taken his cues from her. The way he had asked if she was okay. The way he had sweetly complimented her.
“I do want to see that side of yours,” Jules admitted.
“I’ll gladly show you,” Alex said, making her laugh.
Alex left her at her apartment, only to return near midnight. He insisted that Jules accompanies him. She quickly donned appropriate clothes at his insistence and got in the car. She noticed they were going towards the ice skating rink. When they reached it, it was completely empty. The lights in the trees were glowing and soft music could be heard from the café which still had a few people lingering. They didn’t put on their skates, but Alex led her to the middle of the rig.
“Why are we here, Al?” Jules asked, confused.
“It’s beautiful here at midnight.”
“I know,” Jules agreed.
“I thought it’s the perfect setting for this,” Alex said, and suddenly, he was kneeling down.
Jules’ heart skipped a beat as he took her hands in his.
Jules was speechless as he asked the question. She heard herself say yes and saw him slip on a slim, diamond-studded ring on her finger. He did it perfectly, she thought as he stood up and hugged up. Jules couldn’t make sense of all the emotions she was feeling so she just held him there for what seemed like hours.
The coffee shop showered them with free food and drinks after witnessing what happened at the ice rink. They stayed there for hours, exchanging kisses and holding each other.
Chapter 23 – Epilogue
Jules didn’t know what the future held for her. She didn’t know how life was going to turn out. She didn’t know where life will take her. But with Alex by her side, she thought she could tackle anything life threw at her. With Alex by her side, she was happier. With Alex by her side, she was stronger.
Thinking back, Alex was still surprised at how much Jules had changed him and his life. She had come into his life like wildfire; maybe that explained her red hair and fiery temper. She had supported him, loved him and made him stronger.
Alex and Jules were probably the most unlikely couple one would ever come across. She was short tempered, and he was calm. She was diplomatic. He was impulsive. She smiled and laughed a great deal. He did, too but sometimes, she had to remind him to. She wanted to work in the corporate world, make a name and start her own company. He wanted to continue MMA, to go on to become a world champion. Regarding future plans, she wanted to travel, he wanted to settle down. She wanted to go with the flow. He wanted to plan out their life.
Wherever life would take them, they were content knowing that they had each other; a constant reminder of support and strength.
“Hey, Alex,” Jules said one night, as they were skating on the ice rink that held so many memories. “Is it true you have a thing for redheads?”
Alex looked surprised. “Who said that?”
“Carlotta. At your sister’s wedding. She said you’ve dated multiple redheads,” Jules sounded amused like she usually did while discussing his past and how uncomfortable it made him.
“You’re the only redhead in my life, love,” Alex said.
“I’m pleased with that,” Jules said, laughing. She took his hand and pulled him along as she started skating again. He had been getting better at it too, courtesy of Jules.
It was midnight, and the stars were shining above them. The trees were glowing, and the ice was smooth. The wind was pleasant, and the rink was nearly empty. They were together. And happy.
The End
Black Widow
A Historical Mystery Romance
Bridget Lowe
Black Widow
Copyright 2017 by Bridget Lowe
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to a person, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Warning: Due to mature subject matter, such as explicit sexual situations and coarse language, this story is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older, and all acts of a sexual nature are consensual.
Prologue
The line of red trickled beneath his shirt collar, innocuously slipping from the slit in his throat. But for the expression of shock on his face, his life slipping away would have remained unnoticed by the casual observer. He opened his mouth, but only a horrific gargle ensued as he dropped to his knees, his pupils dilated in death.
The figure stood back slightly as if concerned dying man’s plight would contaminate and watched in fascination.
Such a pity, the dark cloaked form thought with bittersweet emotion. He seemed a decent enough fellow.
A roar of raucous laughter encouraged the shape into the shadows of the alleyway where it dropped the pocket knife into the pool of blood forming at the dead man’s top hat. The voices filtered away into the night encouraging the killer back into the dim light of the backstreet.
Ensuring that the drunken men had vanished into the city, the dark clad entity followed suit in a silent umbra, glancing about furtively. Content that it was not witnessed stealing away from the scene the silhouette smiled and withdrew dark gloves from pale fingers. Discarding them in a nearby gutter, the outline shook its head in regret.
I wish I were not always forced to take such extreme measures. It is such a pity that they never learn.
Chapter One
“Oh, mother, can we not please go home!” Constance cried, peering out of the carriage at the alligator infested swamps on her right. She shuddered at the prehistoric beasts as they lazily opened and closes their mouths as if exercising for the next massacre.
“I despise it here already!”
“Constance, we haven’t yet arrived. You cannot make such a claim so hastily,” Mary Vangess snapped at her oldest daughter. “Surely you can see the beauty Louisiana possesses over New York. I daresay, I have yet to see one motor car since we arrived!”
“Mama, you say that as if it were an attribute! This place is God forsaken, wayward! We cannot stay!”
“Constance, that is quite enough out of you. Why can you not be more like Olivia? She is enthralled by the loveliness of our surroundings, aren’t you darling?”
Olivia Vangess did not reply, her face still near pressed to the window of the coach. Like her sister, she did not feel joy about the move south, but she was much wiser than to argue with her parents. Olivia was two years Constance’s junior yet there seemed a decade gap in their personality with Olivia in the lead.
There is little I can do to alter their decision with squabbling, Olivia reasoned. Constance does enough of that for the both of us regardless.
“Olivia?” Constance challenged cynically, sensing her sister’s dark mood. “Are you enthralled by our new surroundings?”
Reluctantly, the younger siste
r turned to face her mother and sibling, sighing inwardly. She forced a small smile on her face.
“Mama is correct, Connie. We cannot determine if we loathe being here. We have yet to arrive.”
Scowling, Constance flopped furiously against the seat, folding her chubby arms in defiance. Mary cast grateful eyes at Olivia.
“How much longer a journey will it be?” Constance finally grumbled.
“I imagine we will be approaching any moment, darling. Your father has assured me that the house he has acquired is lovely and large, ideal for entertaining.”
“Entertaining the swamp snakes?” Connie muttered, but Mary ignored her.
As if Mary’s words were prophetic, the carriage immediately steered to the right, and the Vangess’ stared out the windows toward the grand house which they were approaching.
“Mama! This is not in the city!” Constance choked. “We are not meant to live in the bayou, are we?”
“Darling, we are just outside of Houma. This is hardly the backwoods. Please settle down. Look at our new home. Is it not spectacular?”
Olivia was awed by the size of the home but started to realize it was a plantation house.
“Mama, we know nothing of running a plantation,” Olivia said to her mother nervously.
Oh, dear Lord, no more surprises. I pray father is not expecting us to become farmers now.
Arthur Vangess had run a successful newspaper in New York City, a business he had inherited from his father when Olivia and Constance’s grandfather had passed away. Yet Arthur had not been content with the small publication, determined to increase his profits and subscription base. It did not take long for the man to branch out among the boroughs, eventually buying out his lesser known competitors. He was tireless and hungry for money, a combination which served him well in the rapidly rising world of print media.
His latest acquisition had been a larger newspaper, one who boasted a book publishing company also. Arthur had been unable to resist the offer, much to the chagrin of his family. The purchase had been uncharacteristic for Arthur had never mentioned any desire of expanding his empire to the south.
Despite her outwardly optimistic face, Mary Vangess had protested the deal privately and in vain. Arthur Vangess was not a man with whom to argue. It was what made him such a wonderful businessman and tyrant husband. Arthur was as quick with his fist as he was with his tongue, something that all three of the Vangess women learned early in their relationships with him.
“It is a failed plantation. The former master went bankrupt and forthwith committed suicide in his study,” Mary answered nonchalantly as if they were discussing tea. Her daughter stared at her, their mouths agape.
“Mother, you cannot be speaking in truths!” Connie gasped, exchanging a nervous look with Olivia as the carriage drew toward the stunning entranceway. Mary did not answer and instead smoothed her long yellow skirts and adjusted her white gloves.
“Mother –” Her oldest daughter started again, but Mary whipped her head to stare at Constance, a warning look flashing through her hazel eyes.
“Hush now,” she hissed as the coachman opened the door for their exit. “You will upset your father.”
Obligingly, Connie clamped her mouth together in a firm line and stared stonily at the lolling property. She had no desire to instigate any form of punishment from her father, particularly not when he was apt to be in a jolly mood for once.
Olivia felt a small shiver of trepidation flow through her body, but she forced a smile upon her face as Arthur opened the heavy wooden doors from inside the house. He shoved the screen opened in his usual boisterous fashion and peered expectantly at his family.
“Well?” he demanded without greeting. “How do you find it?”
Olivia, Constance, and Mary nodded in unison, each one wearing the same expression of happiness on their faces.
How did we become such consummate thespians? Olivia wondered, following her father up the veranda and inside the vast home. It seemed so overwhelmingly clear that they were all miserable and yet to stare at any of the three women, no one would have guessed their inner workings.
Despite her initial apprehension, she begrudgingly admitted that the mansion was lovely. It had been well kept despite its abandonment, and she idly wondered how much work her father had done to prepare it for their arrival. Twin staircases wove upward, leading into the separate wings of the house with a small, bronze door at the center of the landing. Arthur followed Olivia’s gaze and smiled.
“That is a lift,” he informed her, and the sisters gasped.
“How…ostentatious,” Connie murmured. “Whatever would one require a lift for in a house of only two stories?”
Arthur’s blue irises seemed to flash with irritation, and Olivia waited for an inevitable slap to grace her sister’s cheek. To her surprise, Arthur laughed.
“I wholehearted concur. I asked the same question, dove. But it is not without its charm. Come along, I have much to show you before returning to Houma.”
“Oh, Arthur, surely you are not returning to the office today!” Mary implored, but he did not seem to hear her, chattering excitedly about the details of the mansion. Olivia cast her mother a sympathetic look, but inwardly she was deeply relieved. The more time her father spent in town, the less time he would be in their midst. Still, she did feel pity for her mother who longed for the affections of her father.
I wonder if he ever showed her any love. It is difficult to envision father as a romantic man. Olivia pushed the thoughts from her mind as the tour continued.
As they walked, several servants bowed and curtseyed, but all avoided eye contact.
I wonder if they were once slaves, she thought, noticing their shiny, dark skin and spiraling hair.
The Vangess’ made their way through past the ballroom, through the back corridors of the main floor. The siblings began to lose count at the plentiful rooms.
“What possible function could so many rooms have?” Connie bemoaned, determined not to be captivated by the intricate beauty of their new residence. It was a difficult feat, and Olivia was already won over, especially when they entered the library. It was the biggest room on the main level and covered with a glass dome to allow maximum sunlight to spill upon the thousands of titles. What inspired her the most was the black grand piano beside the wall-length stone fireplace.
“Oh, father, does it work?” she cried, darting toward it, her fingers extended to press the shiny ivory keys.
He remembered! He does love us deep down, despite his frequent outbursts. He must have had this specially ordered for my arrival, knowing how desolate I was leaving my music lessons in New York! Her dark blue eyes shining, she turned, prepared to embrace the master of the house, but he had already made his way toward the door, gesturing for them to follow.
“I haven’t the foggiest notion, Olivia but if it does, do keep your caterwauling to a minimum when I am present. I despise the sound of that instrument, and the combination of your voice with piano is almost too much to bear.”
Shocked, Olivia watched as he disappeared, Connie pausing to give her sister a weak smile. Mary put her arm gently on her youngest daughter’ arm and steered her away from the piano. Olivia stared at it longingly, but she dared not play as she so desired.
“Pay him no mind, darling,” Mary whispered as they continued. “He would not know beautiful music if the angels of heaven were playing at his bedside.”
Olivia swallowed quickly, ignoring the tears of humiliation she felt burning in her eyes.
I wonder what our lives would be if he were to die, she thought, not for the first time.
Chapter Two
He slammed the ball back across the net with vigor, almost knocking his opponent to the side with its impact.
“Woah, Alex!” Cecil cried, ducking away from the rogue tennis ball. “It is but a game!”
Alexander Coville laughed and tossed the racket carelessly to the court.
“Said like a true
loser,” he declared, striding toward his long-time friend. “And you cry that same cry every time I serve with force. You need a new excuse for failing.”
He extended his hand and Cecil accepted it, forcing a smile on his face.
“Well done,” he told Alex, and his chum merely cackled once more.
“I do not know why you insist on embarrassing yourself with these matches,” Alex told him. “Surely you have learned after all this time that you cannot beat me.”
He ran a hand through his thick black hair, striding toward the sidelines. Cecil hurried to catch up, resenting that he seemed a lost puppy on Alex’s trail.
“Perhaps one day you will eat your words,” Cecil replied, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. Alex’s insufferable cocksure attitude was tiresome, but it did not change the fact that Alex remained his closest alliance. The two had grown up together, his father an accountant at Alex’s father’s bank. They had been born two days apart, and perhaps due to that fact, they had remained inseparable since birth.
It does not hurt that his father has such high standing in the community. I imagine at some moment; all this abuse will be worth it if Harvey Coville offers me a posh position at the Bank of Houma.
“Oh, darling, that was wonderful!” Vivian rushed forward, her fan flapping wildly. The gentle breeze stirred her strawberry blonde waves about, and her eyes were alight with adoration. She pushed her fingers against his sweaty forearm and placed a kiss upon her suitor’s cheek.
“Darling, you should play professionally,” she cooed, and Cecil resisted the overwhelming urge he had to roll his eyes heavenward.
He accuses me of using the same phrases over again; Vivian has only seven words in her entire vocabulary and all of them pertain to boosting Alex’s already over inflated ego, Cecil thought with bitterness. He wondered if he envied Alex or simply wanted to smack him.
The Virgin Secretary: A Billionaire Romance Page 45