by Lee, Nadia
The moment she noticed him, Catherine started sobbing, tears streaming from her large light brown eyes. “Oh my god, what do I do? My life’s ruined!” Even in the middle of a crisis, she had on full makeup that was apparently waterproof.
Gavin went straight for the wet bar Jacob had installed and helped himself to a generous serving of bourbon. One could never start drinking early enough when dealing with Catherine. And it paid to get right to the point.
“Is it true? Jacob has another wife?”
“Yes! Some stripper from Las Vegas he married before he proposed to me. He left me for her. How could he?”
No shit. Strippers were generally attractive—they had to be, in order to earn any money—but Gavin doubted that any of them could hold a candle to Catherine. “How does that leave The Lloyds Development?”
“TLD? Who cares about the company right now?”
“You should. If TLD goes bad, you’ll have nothing.” Gavin walked over and stood in front of her. “Is it solvent? Bankrupt? What? He couldn’t have left without taking something.” Given Jacob’s propensity to live grandly, Gavin wouldn’t have put it past his brother to have robbed the company of everything except the carpet.
“You saw the quarterly reports. The company’s fine. It just needs a new CEO. But I… I don’t know where to start.” Fresh tears fell. “I have nothing. I don’t know what I’m going to do. My life’s over.”
“Pull yourself together. Your life’s far from over. You’re still young.”
“What’s the point? Your family will protect Jacob and toss me out. I’ll be made the villain in this farce.”
“No, we won’t.”
“Why not?” She sniffed and tossed her dark curls over a shoulder. “They all hate me.”
“That’s not true.” Well, not exactly true. Jacob had left, Gavin had gotten over her, and Ethan, the second oldest…well, he didn’t hate her, but it was mainly because he didn’t consider it worth the effort. Ethan probably suspected there was some history between Catherine and his two other brothers, even though Gavin hadn’t breathed a word, and Jacob in all likelihood hadn’t either.
Or maybe Jacob had blabbed. Given the magnitude of the fiasco he’d left behind, Gavin wasn’t sure if he could trust his oldest brother’s judgment any more.
“Your mother pulled all my favorite flowers from her garden,” Catherine said.
“They were diseased.” Life was too short to tell unpleasant truths to Catherine. He needed to fly home to his wife, who was, to put it mildly, undoubtedly irritated. “She had no choice.”
“What do I do?”
He grabbed a fistful of napkins from the wet bar and shoved them at her. “Stop crying. Start thinking.”
“Who’s going to move the gnomes?” She gestured at the garden and grew even more hysterical.
About a dozen or so colorful giant pointy hat-sporting figures littered the multi-acre yard in an oval. A wheelbarrow squatted in the center.
Gavin shrugged. “Your gardener. Who else?”
“I don’t have one. I fired him.”
“Oh for god’s sake.” One bourbon wasn’t enough for this bullshit. “If it’s that much of a big deal, you should’ve waited until he moved your gnomes.”
“I heard him laugh. I couldn’t stand it.”
Patience. Patience. “Not everything is about you, Catherine. Maybe he was thinking about a joke.”
“You don’t know him the way I do. I was the joke!” She dabbed at her eyes, then blew her nose in that practiced dainty way.
He should’ve expected that his sister-in-law would be crazy with shame. Appearances were paramount to her. She could bear anything except public humiliation. He almost said, “For fuck’s sake, get over yourself,” but the firm voice of his mother stopped him short.
We always take care of our own. Family is important. It’s all we truly have.
His mother—his family—would expect him to do something to calm his ex/sister-in-law down. A Lloyd didn’t shirk his duties.
“I’ll get you a new gardener tomorrow. He can move the gnomes then,” Gavin said.
“No. They have to be moved today. They’ve just been sitting out there like this all this time.”
“One more day won’t make a difference.”
“Oh fine! I’ll do it.” She hopped off the armchair and pushed her perfectly curled hair back.
Gavin’s jaw tightened. There was no way she could move even one of the gnomes by herself. They were too large, and she was going to pull a muscle or something on top of everything else that had happened.
He yanked his wedding band off and put it on the bar. After shrugging out of his jacket and vest, he said, “Stay here, you crazy woman. I’ll take care of them.”
He stalked outside as Catherine burst into fresh tears at being called crazy.
Just kill me now.
That damned Jacob. He should be the one dealing with Catherine. Or did he think he didn’t have to since he was the “more” of the family—the older one, the more successful, the more popular, the more everything?
Is this what you meant by success, Jacob? What the hell?
Gavin started moving the damned gnomes. They were heavier than they looked. He didn’t care all that much about the personal lives of his oldest brother and his wife. They could do whatever they wanted in private, so long as it didn’t reflect badly on the family. But bigamy? Running off with a stripper, legally married or not? The scandal would hit everyone hard. Their mother would be furious and embarrassed.
As Gavin carted a gnome across the expanse of lawn he wondered what kind of shape The Lloyds Development might be in. The reports Jacob had prepared said things were fine, and so did Catherine, but she didn’t have the head for a business as big as The Lloyds Development. Not that being a bigamist necessarily made Jacob a terrible businessman. But sloppy people did sloppy things, and failing to divorce this Vegas stripper wife before marrying Catherine definitely fit. What other messes were lying around, waiting to be discovered?
* * *
Amandine checked her appearance once more in the rearview mirror as she drove to La Mer. After giving Brooke the rest of the day off, she’d gone to see her stylist to fix her hair. Her makeup was done professionally, her clothes had been selected with her stylist’s help and there was nothing wrong with the way she looked—seriously, an army of professionals had dedicated hours to making her as stunning as possible—but her palms grew clammy nonetheless.
Must’ve been nerves from being pregnant. Sort of like how she had grown teary over the gift.
It had nothing to do with the fact that Gavin’s executive administrative assistant, Hilary Rosenberg, had no idea where he’d gone or what the “urgent” business was.
“Really sorry to bother you, Amandine, but is Gavin with you?” Hilary had said over the phone over an hour ago.
“What?”
“I can’t seem to reach him.”
“But why are you calling me? Didn’t you talk to him earlier about some emergency in Houston? He left after that.”
“I’m—” A discreet throat clearing. “Oh, never mind. I just found his itinerary. Sorry about the confusion. Enjoy the rest of your day, Amandine.”
“Thanks,” Amandine had responded, but how in the world was she supposed to enjoy the rest of the day after that? Amandine didn’t buy Hilary’s excuse about a misplaced itinerary. Hilary knew Gavin’s schedule better than Gavin did.
If it wasn’t business… If it was something personal, why hadn’t he said anything?
Amandine stopped her car in front of the glitzy restaurant, and a uniformed valet opened the door for her. She climbed out and handed him her keys. The soft red silk cocktail dress whispered against her skin, the matching sandals adding almost three inches to her five-foot five. Her stylist had pulled her wheat-colored hair into a chic French twist, something she could never manage on her own. She radiated—or at least she hoped she radiated—a sophistication and elegance that befit the crowd
at La Mer.
The maître d’, clad in a tuxedo that looked like cultured wealth, led her to a table in the most sought-after corner. The walls were made entirely of Plexiglas; behind them was an enormous aquarium full of interesting sea life. Her section boasted orange and yellow coral and tropical fish of various vivid shades. The only ones she recognized was a pair of clownfish, which swished their tails to disappear into their anemone home.
Amandine sighed. It must be nice to live in a modest home, just them and their spouses, nobody to impress. The fish seemed to be in sync with what they wanted and expected from each other. Maybe it was because a clownfish never married a fish out of its league.
Like a shark.
A waiter came by to get her drink order. She requested mineral water and juice, which appeared almost instantly.
She shouldn’t be ungrateful. She had a generous husband, a lovely home everyone envied, tons of staff to take care of everything.
So what if she hadn’t been in half the rooms in her house, or if she always had to look the part? She’d known what was expected when she agreed to marry Gavin. He was far wealthier than her uncle’s family, who had taken her family in when her father’s prolonged unemployment had resulted in eviction. And her uncle had been rich. Gavin shouldn’t have to become downwardly mobile just because she was more comfortable in clothes from thrift stores, or a smaller home that she could manage on her own.
This was their anniversary. Her focus should be on all the lovely things in her life rather than a few minor annoyances.
Right?
She sat back in her seat and waited.
And waited.
Then waited some more.
After about half an hour, she gave up and reached for her phone. Maybe Gavin was—
She started when a chilled bottle of Perrier-Jouët appeared on the table.
“With my compliments.”
She looked up and blinked. “Hello, Mark.”
“Surprised to see you sitting here by yourself.” Mark Pryce took the only empty chair, the one that Gavin was due to sit in when he showed up. The dim interior light darkened Mark’s medium-brown hair so that it almost looked as inky as Gavin’s. He wore a nice dress shirt and dark slacks of European origin. Most likely custom tailored, given the way they fit him.
Mark was Gavin’s friend and one of the richest men in the state. He invested in many upscale restaurants, including La Mer, and La Mer, which had opened just the week before, was already a smashing success. His mother seemed to disapprove of it. She had definite ideas about how her children ought to live their lives.
“I have a date,” Amandine began, self-conscious and vaguely embarrassed, “but I think he’s been delayed.”
“Gavin?”
“Well, of course. It’s our anniversary.”
His blue eyes warmed. “Congratulations. I picked the right bottle for the occasion.”
“I’m not drinking.”
“Why not?” he said, pausing in the middle of popping the cork. “It’s not like you have to drive. I can call you a limo if you like.”
“Thanks but…” She hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him about her pregnancy, not when she hadn’t even told Gavin yet. “I’m not feeling too well.”
“I see. Then I’ll have this bottle saved for you, so you can enjoy it later.”
“That would be great.”
“Has he called?”
“No. I was about to see if he’s even in town.” She fiddled with her half-empty water glass. “He had to go to Houston this afternoon.”
“Ah.” Mark raised eyebrows. “Damage control.”
“Excuse me?” She tilted her head. A tendril escaped her French twist and tickled her face. She tucked it behind an ear impatiently. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated. “You haven’t heard?”
“What?”
“Jacob ran off from Catherine.”
“What?” Amandine immediately closed her mouth and bit her lower lip. Not everyone at the restaurant needed to hear her outburst.
But she couldn’t believe this. Jacob was the oldest of the Lloyd siblings and headed The Lloyds Development, the family business that provided a steady and generous income to every Lloyd. Some, like Gavin, didn’t need the money from the company, but many depended on it to finance their lifestyles. “What happened?”
“He, uh…” Mark pursed his lips and shrugged. “He turned out to be a bigamist. His first wife showed up in Houston.”
She gasped. First wife?!
“So his marriage to Catherine” —he cut his fingers across his neck— “ended. And he ran off with the real wife.”
“The real wife,” she repeated.
“Yeah.”
“So…who is she? A Vanderbilt? One of the Astors?”
He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “A Vegas stripper.”
Amandine brought her fingertips to her mouth, at a complete loss for words. What a cliché. It sounded like something from a daytime soap her mother used to watch.
“I’m surprised you didn’t know.”
She cleared her throat. “I’ve been rather busy the past few days.” She winced inwardly at the lame excuse.
She stared at the label on the champagne bottle. The shock still coursed through her, short-circuiting her thoughts. She shook her head to clear it.
Why hadn’t Gavin told her earlier? This was a family matter, and she was family.
Then it dawned on her.
Catherine was free.
Her hands tightened into fists. Catherine was the one Gavin had wanted in the first place. The only reason he’d noticed Amandine was because Catherine had chosen Jacob.
And why hadn’t Catherine reached out to her? After all, they were cousins.
Did Catherine want Gavin back?
Most importantly did he want her back?
Of course he does. Why else would he have gone to Houston on your anniversary?
Amandine put a hand over her belly. Disappointment turned into half-panic, half-apprehension. She’d wanted to let him know about the pregnancy. But now… Would he find the news…their baby…regrettable?
“Are you all right?”
She blinked. “Yes, fine. Just a little…shocked. You know, about Jacob and Catherine and all.”
“Sorry I said anything. I should’ve let Gavin tell you. It’s a family matter.”
“It can’t be that much of a family matter if you already heard.”
He made a sympathetic face. “Bad news travels fast. You know how it is.”
“Of course.” Everyone knew except her.
“Listen, even if Gavin’s not here to celebrate, you should treat yourself. I’ll comp the whole thing.”
“It’s all right.” If her appetite hadn’t already been dead, Mark’s pity would have killed it.
He nodded, his eyes understanding. “The invitation’s open-ended, so you can call me any time you change your mind. Ten years from now, whenever.”
She managed a smile. “Sure. Thank you.”
Amandine went home, her mind churning, her eyes burning with unshed tears. How could her day go from such bright optimism to this? She couldn’t seem to process anything. Should she confront Gavin? What would she say? What should she say?
The house was empty. She’d asked Luna to leave early since they were going to eat out.
Her feet moved automatically, leading her upstairs to the dark bedroom. She flicked the light switch on and blinked. The sight of new flowers on the nightstand punched her in the gut, stealing her breath.
They were yellow roses—Catherine’s favorite.
Chapter Four
AMANDINE DROVE STRAIGHT to Brooke’s apartment. Staying at the mansion was not an option. The cloying scent of yellow roses was suffocating.
She pulled into a guest parking spot, killed the engine and went up the walk to Brooke’s apartment building. It wasn’t the nicest apartment complex around, but it was familiar enough. Amand
ine had lived there, on the ninth floor like Brooke, until she’d married Gavin.
Amandine punched in 9-0-4 on the intercom and waited.
A small red light lit on the panel. “Yeah?” came Brooke’s no-nonsense voice, reserved to discourage any door-to-door salespeople.
“It’s me.”
The door unlocked with a harsh, metallic click. Amandine shook her head as she took in the cracked floor and dirty walls. The building’s location made up for the lack of amenities, but jeez. It had gone downhill since she’d moved out, and the management apparently hadn’t done a thing to upgrade the place since then. How much could a fresh coat of paint cost? At least one of the lobby’s naked bulbs was still on to keep the area lit. She took the elevator up, hugging herself.
Brooke’s apartment door was ajar. “Come on in,” she called out from the inside as though she’d sensed Amandine’s presence, something she always seemed to be able to do.
Amandine slipped in and closed the door. “Sorry to barge in after giving you the rest of the day off.”
“It’s all right. Have a seat,” Brooke said from the open kitchen.
After taking off her shoes, Amandine settled on a crimson couch and tucked her feet under her.
Brooke’s apartment was as bold as her personality. A dizzying palette of magenta, teal, gold and daffodil yellow covered every inch of the standard rental’s white walls and pale brown carpet in the form of prints, hangings and rugs. A sharp envy pricked Amandine. She loved color too, but she hadn’t dared modify Gavin’s mansion. A team of high-priced interior decorators had worked on it, and Amandine didn’t think he’d appreciate her undoing the expensive pro job.
Brooke padded out on bare feet with two steaming mugs of herbal tea. Her crimson, gold and black toenails looked stunning. Amandine hadn’t seen the new pedicure earlier that day.
Handing Amandine a mug, Brooke took an armchair near the couch. “Drink,” she commanded. “It’s good for morning sickness. Sandy used to have it all the time when she was pregnant.”
She hadn’t experienced any nausea yet, but the mug warmed her cold fingers. Amandine hunched a bit over the tea, inhaling its steam.
“Why aren’t you at La Mer?”