The Virgin Secretary: A Billionaire Romance

by Cross, Veronica

  Mama is right. I don’t need to know about gory death…but I must understand why they are looking to Alex’s father. But why must you know? Alex Coville has nothing to do with your life. If father thinks he is suspect, I am sure he has good cause. I must read the article to discover what cause that is…and then I will ask Connie what she meant when she said that Harvey Coville was investigated at father’s hand.

  Before she could change her mind, she reached across the table and began to peruse the article. As she took in the information, her eyes widened, and her gut churned.

  Surely this cannot be…could Harvey Coville be a murderer? If so, is Alex in danger?

  Vivian Collier felt as if her life had collapsed around her feet. She lay on her canopied bed, sobbing hysterically into a goose down pillow.

  He is merely upset at what was written in the paper. He did not mean what he said.

  Yet as Vivian began to replay the events of the past six weeks in her head, she realized that she had been losing Alex for a long while.

  It has been since the moment the Vangess’ arrived in Houma. He has a fascination with the younger Vangess girl. I saw it in him at the gala that night, and I did not put a stop to it.

  Her woe was genuine, almost tangible. She could not imagine losing Alex, not a fourth lover, not when he was so close to proposing.

  Why could they not have stayed away? Why did they have to return and ruin my life and Alex’s?

  Wiping the tears from her face, Vivian sat up, a steel rod of determination erecting in her spine.

  Alex will be mine. If I cannot have him, no one will.

  “Mr. Coville, I fear my father is not home,” Constance told Alex as he pushed her aside.

  “I am calling for Olivia,” he declared. “Where is she?”

  Connie’s light brown eyes narrowed slightly, and she considered lying to him.

  “What do you wish with my sister?” she demanded. Alex seemed nonplussed at the question, and he peered at the older sister for what seemed like the first time since they had made acquaintances.

  “I would much prefer to discuss that with her personally, Miss Vangess,” he replied. The expression on her face told him immediately that he had answered wrongly.

  “She is not here,” Connie fibbed. “May I tell her the reason for your call?”

  “Connie, I am here,” came Olivia’s mellifluous voice from the back hall. “Who has come calling?”

  “It is Alexander Coville…again,” Connie answered dryly. Olivia appeared around the curved stairwell to the east wing, and Alex felt his breath quicken at the sight of her. She wore a simple gown of white which accented her swelling bosom and cinched waist.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Coville,” she said, drawing near. “What can I do for you?”

  Alex glanced nervously at her irritated sister and stepped toward Olivia.

  “Is there somewhere we may speak privately?” he asked, still watching Constance in his peripheral vision. Connie’s mouth formed a tight line and she gave her sister a warning look.

  “Yes,” Olivia replied, oblivious of Constance’s cautionary stare. “The library is this way.”

  Happy to be away from the older sibling’s study, Alex trailed after Olivia. He had been unable to shake the image of her living in a house with a killer. It had disturbed him relentlessly, and he knew he needed to confront her about her father, but in truth, he had not figured out how to say such a flagrant statement.

  She may very well slap my face and order me from her house immediately, but I will not know if I do not talk to her.

  Inside the library, Alex looked about, stunned by the size of the room.

  This is larger than our study, he mused. His eyes traveled toward the grand piano, and his eyes lit up.

  “Oh, how lovely. It is new, is it not?” he asked, running his hand over the sleek black of the covering.

  “Do you play?” Olivia asked, surprised. He nodded and then shook his head and laughed.

  “I played often, but my father oft complained of my caterwauling and urged me to stop so I soon let go of that passion.”

  Olivia swallowed a smile.

  I would not be surprised if my father and his father were separated at birth.

  “Please, go ahead,” she urged, pulling the bench for him to sit but Alex protested.

  “No, I thank you kindly for the offer, but I fear my father is correct. My voice is an appalling sensation for the ears, and my playing is not much better.”

  “I daresay that you are acting the chicken before a girl, no less!”

  Alex felt his jaw clench at the challenge, and he glared up at Olivia.

  She dares call me chicken when I have come here to protect her. What an ungrateful wench she is!

  Suddenly, he realized she was smiling sweetly and his anger dissipated into a puddle.

  She has a sense of humor. I would have never expected a teasing banter from Vivian. How deeply refreshing is Olivia Vangess.

  “Please, Mr. Coville, play for me. It has been a long while since I have had a companion who enjoys music much less has an ear for it.”

  “You may regret your request,” he responded, posing his fingers above the keys. Abruptly he bowed his head, fluttering into Brahms’s “A German Requiem.” As his fingers flew airlessly about the ivory keys, Olivia watched his face. An expression of peace and wonder seemed to overtake him, and a heady feeling stole over her. A combination of the music and the wonderment on Alex’s face brought her a pleasure she had not felt previously. She found her own eyes closing, her breath rising in falling in time to the music as if she was part of the notes ringing through the library. As the movement ended, Olivia felt a sense of loss so deep, tears sprung unbidden to her eyes.

  “Are you well?” Alex asked, jumping from the bench. Her wet eyes concerned him.

  “Was it truly so awful?”

  “Oh! On the contrary, Mr. Coville,” Olivia whispered, hastily wiping the water from her cheeks. “You are incredibly gifted. Please promise me that you will never stop playing no matter how little other appreciate your talent. I could listen to you all day without moving from this spot.”

  Alex reached up to remove another streak from the corner of her mouth, and before he could contain himself, he leaned forward to meet her lips with his.

  “Mr. Coville!” she cried, pushing him away. “That is inappropriate on many levels!”

  “I am sorry, Miss Vangess,” he told her, backing away in shame. “I have not been able to stop thinking of you since the first moment we met. I see your big, beautiful eyes in the depth of the lake. I smell the sweetness of your hair in the air, and I swear you are passing by. I feel disappointment when I realize it has only been my imagination.”

  “Charming,” Olivia retorted. “I am certain you have said the same to Miss Collier.”

  “No, I have never uttered those words to anyone, and furthermore, Miss Collier and I are no longer together. It was unfair of me to pursue a relationship with her when I clearly have eyes for only you.”

  Olivia’s heart skipped several beats at the words, but she was no fool. She understood Alex Coville’s reputation better than anyone.

  He is just like father. He has the gift of a silver tongue, undoubtedly. He can coax the birds off the trees with his words, but once you give him what he desires, you will no longer be important to him. You must not succumb to his lures as so many women have before. You are a good, God fearing girl. It does not matter that his lips taste like sugar cubes nor that his eyes seem to read deeply into your soul. It matters not that he loves music and feels it the same as you. You must keep your wits about you. Stay clear from Alexander Coville.

  “Why did you come here, Mr. Coville?” she demanded, willing her resolve to stay strong as his green eyes pierced into her, seeming to undress her where she stood.

  Alex stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words.

  I did not come here intending to kiss her. My intentions were pure, and I wis
hed to forewarn her about her father. If I say such a thing to her now, she will misconstrue my words as a ploy to seduce her somehow or worse, she will consider that I am seeking revenge for being rejected. I cannot allow for either scenario to occur. I must think of something to say quickly...

  “Mr. Coville?” Olivia’s tone took on a layer of ice as she watched him considering his next words.

  “I came here to beg you to speak with your father about what he is allowing to be written about my father in the Citizen.”

  Olivia nodded slowly. She had suspected as much but what could she possibly do to stop her father from printing such a story.

  “I am sorry for the strain your family must be enduring as a result of that article. Sincerely, Mr. Coville, I would like to help you, but my father will not listen to anything I say in regards to his business. Why just this morning my sister spoke on your father’s behalf, and she was slapped.”

  “Slapped you say?”

  “Indeed. My father has a very short temper. Even so, I would try if I felt that it would do any good but I fear it will only serve in causing more friction. Perhaps the police will find the true killer, and we will never hear of this awfulness again.”

  Alex could tell she did not believe her own words.

  The police have had twenty years to find the killer. They had two viable suspects under their noses, one whom remained in Houma, and yet nothing ever materialized. I highly doubt much will have changed with this murder.

  Yet he could not help but smile at her effort to remain optimistic.

  “Thank you for entertaining the idea, regardless,” he said, stepping toward the door. Instantly, the door swung inward, and Mary Vangess stood, her breasts heaving with hard breath.

  “There you are!” she cried, reaching for her daughter’s arm. She eyed Alex cautiously.

  “Mr. Coville,” she said pointedly. “I imagine you will be wanted at home.”

  “Is something amiss, Mrs. Vangess?” Mary sighed and opened her mouth reluctantly.

  “Unfortunately, yes, Mr. Coville. There has been another murder.”

  Chapter Seven

  “You must not allow that boy on this property again!” Arthur snapped. “He is painted with the same tarnish as his father.”

  Mary muttered something under her breath, but Arthur did not flinch from his vice-like grip on Olivia’s wrist.

  “Do I make myself clear, Olivia?”

  “Yes father,” she whispered, and he finally released her wrist.

  There will surely be a bruise this time, she thought, staring at her delicate bones. She had felt something snap as he had seized her.

  “You know, father, by your logic, you can just as easily be the murderer.”

  Flabbergasted, the entire family turned to stare at Constance who did not bother to raise her eyes from her soup.

  “What did you just say to me, girl?”

  “Oh, father, I am simply using your own logic. You resembled the man in the sketch in 1870. You claim you heard a confession from Harvey Coville, but instead of testifying, you simply disappeared. If I were investigating – “Constance was unable to finish her thought as Arthur’s fist smashed into her nose.

  “Connie!” Olivia screamed, jumping to help her sister.

  “Leave her there,” Arthur ordered, returning to his soup. Mary began to sob quietly, and Olivia stood, unsure of what to do. When she realized that Connie was unconscious, she reacted, rushing over to assist her sister.

  “You dare disobey me?” Arthur screamed, jumping to his feet again. His knuckles impacted Olivia’s dark hair at the temple, the blow landing her beside her sister. Still barely conscious, Olivia stared at her father through half-opened lids.

  Connie is right. He is the murderer.

  “Harvey, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Harvey Coville slammed the door to the inner office, startling the newspaper staff at their desks. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

  “Is there a problem, Harvey?”

  “What the hell are you doing back here, Arthur? Why have you dragged me back into this mess?”

  “I daresay that you dragged yourself back into it, wouldn’t you agree?”

  The men stared at each other, their eyes clashing but neither budged.

  “Arthur, you know I did not do this,” he implored, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Please, think of my family.”

  Arthur’s eyelids dropped into narrowed slits, and he leaped to his feet like a cat.

  “Did you think of my family when you went out that night unmasked?” he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. “You allowed half of Houma to see your face and damn near ruined my life!”

  Harvey hung his head, ashamed.

  “I know,” he murmured. “And I know why you did what you did but I swear, those days are long over. Have you been going out solo? Are you only looking for a scapegoat to take the blame for your nightly thrills? If so, please, Arthur, you need to inform me so I can be prepared!”

  Arthur lowered his posture and regarded his friend.

  “What we did back then we did for excitement, the taste of the kill. We are family men now. We have no need for bloodlust. Or at least I do not.”

  “Nor do I!” Harvey cried, slamming his fists onto the wooden desk. “I am begging you to cease making the unfavorable connection between then and now.”

  Arthur guffawed.

  “How do you propose I do such a thing? I merely report the news, not fabricate it.”

  “This is obviously someone mimicking our crimes, Arthur! Surely you can shed some doubt…”

  Arthur paused, staring at Harvey in contemplation. He did not owe the man anything, and yet the open agony in his eyes was apparent.

  Perhaps I am able to ease his suffering somewhat. The question is, should I?

  “I will do it on one condition,” Arthur told him.

  “Anything, Arthur! I will do anything you ask!”

  Arthur Vangess smiled to himself.

  “Keep your boy away from my Olivia.”

  Harvey’s eyes registered confusion, and he nodded slowly.

  “I was not aware that he was pursuing your girl. Consider it done. Alexander will not see Olivia again.”

  Satisfied, Arthur nodded, gesturing with his chin toward the door.

  “If you keep your end of the bargain, I shall keep mine. Now get out of my office. I have no interest in seeing you either.”

  Harvey did not need a second request and slipped out of the newspaper office without another word.

  Arthur’s mind was whirling.

  We were young and foolish, seeking adventure and rebelling against authority. There is no reason for Harvey to commit such heinous acts. He is correct. There are differences in these murders than the others. If not Harvey and not me, then who has been committing these acts?

  Vivian blinked at the headline in the newspaper, trying to make sense of what it meant. “Two Murderers Over Twenty Years!” the title screamed. As she scanned the article, she saw that the police had uncovered that the recent murders, while very similar, lacked certain elements of the original crimes.

  “It appears as though the current killer had some inside knowledge of the original murders, but they were not executed in the same fashion. The murders which occurred in 1870 were done with a paring knife while the current crimes have been performed with a pocket knife. The latest victim suffered a puncture wound to his throat whereas the others had been sliced from ear to ear.”

  Is it possible that there are two murderers at large? Was Harvey Coville responsible in 1870 and someone else today?

  The questions were endless, and suddenly Vivian had an epiphany.

  Perhaps Arthur Vangess returned to Houma simply to ensure that Harvey Coville ends up on the gallows. Would he go so far as to murder people to ensure it happen? He claimed that Harvey had confessed the crimes to him. I could envision Harvey Coville as a murderer. This is such a sordid case. I must speak with Alex about thi
s. He must understand how dangerous the Vangess family can be.

  A small voice nagged at her, warning her that perhaps she should forsake her pursuit of Alex Coville. He would hardly be a catch should his father be tried for murder.

  If his father is guilty of such an audacious crime, you will be tied to public scrutiny for as long as you bear the Coville name.

  She pushed the thought from her head and rose from the table.

  If Harvey Coville escaped public exile once, he could do it again. I have nothing to fear marrying into the Coville family. They are beyond reproach.

  “Mr. Coville, you cannot be here,” Olivia whispered, ushering him outside and firmly closing the door behind her. She glanced furtively about as if expecting her father to appear but Alex took her hand gently and lead her around the side of the house.

  “I see your father has forbidden me to spend time with you also,” he said sadly, watching her with worried eyes.

  “Also? Your father has given you the same orders?”

  “Indeed. He claims that your father is the murderer and he does not want our family named besmirched any more than it has already been.”

  “That is preposterous!” Olivia scoffed. “If anything, it is my family who should be concerned!”

  “Are you?” Alex asked, and Olivia realized he was holding her hand. She tried to wiggle out of his squeeze but he held fast, his gaze pinned upon her.

  “No,” she admitted. “Whatever mess our parents submerged themselves is theirs to undo. It should not reflect on us.”

  “It should not but it does,” Alex told her.

  “Why are you here, Mr. Coville?”

  Alexander touched her face tenderly.

  “I truly meant what I said to you, Olivia. I cannot get the image of your beautiful face from my mind. I think of you as soon as my eyes open in the morning and you are the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night. I cannot stay away, no matter what my father threatens.”

  Olivia’s dark eyes narrowed.

  “What has your father threatened?” she asked.

  “It does not matter. Nothing can keep me away from you,” Alex replied quickly.