by Lee, Nadia
“Where are you going?”
“To the Blue House.”
* * *
Catherine sat in the living room with a cup of fresh coffee and stared at the horrible painting Salazar had hung in there. At least the area was dust free now, thanks to Irene having stopped by. The place was so quiet she could hear the gears in her brain turning.
She’d been so wrong about everything. The more she thought about what the women had said, the more she agreed with them. There would be prenups that specifically protected the men. Rich people didn’t ask for those agreements because they benefitted somebody like her. After all, it had been the sole reason why she hadn’t been able to do much against Jacob. And it had been the biggest enabler of Salazar’s man-whorish ways. Ceinlys couldn’t do a thing about it.
Maybe Catherine had been wrong to seek security and stability from men. She’d always dated men at the top of the social pyramid. In high school that meant the football team captain. He’d made sure she remained a queen bee, but after high school ended, she’d lost him and had nothing to show for it. And every dating experience since had been the same. As long as she was with the right man, she was all right. But when it ended…
But what could she do to be somebody? How could she get security and stability in her life on her own? She had nothing, no talent or skill.
And the women at the clothing store were right about her getting close to thirty and what that represented. Age wouldn’t be an issue if her next husband loved her, but she wasn’t that lovable or even worthy of respect. When people knew how she really was they would pity her but never love her. It was difficult to love someone so useless.
Moaning she buried her face in her hands. If she could just disappear right now…
Somebody pounded on her door. She snapped her head up with a scowl. Didn’t the universe have any respect for her need to be alone?
With a deep sigh, she went over to the door and opened it. “What’s the big…” The rest of the words died when she saw Blaine. He looked awful with his hair sticking up like he’d been pulling at it. There was redness around his eyes that hinted at some huge emotional turmoil. “What’s wrong?” she asked, standing aside to let him in. “Did Sean…?”
“No.” He brushed by her and closed the door behind him.
His looked at her with the dispassionate detachment of a critic tearing a piece of art apart to find flaws to harp on. Catherine felt the urge to turn away and hide, then mentally shook herself. How ridiculous would that be? She had to be projecting her mood onto him somehow.
“How well do you know Salazar Pryce?” he asked.
She flinched at the awful tone of his voice. He might as well have asked her if she was a murderer. She chose her answer with care. “He’s a family friend. He and my dad were very close.” Unable to stand so close to Blaine while he looked at her so coldly, she gestured at the couch. “Do you want to sit down?”
“No. I don’t want to sit down. I want to know what the hell you’re doing here.”
“Blaine, there’s no reason to be angry.”
The vein on his forehead stood up and throbbed. “I have every reason.” He reached into his coat and dumped a manila folder on the floor between them.
She gasped, then went rigid as the densely typed pages spilled on the hardwood and rugs. How did he… No… He couldn’t have found it. It had to be Irene who’d discovered it while cleaning and ran to him, instead of talking to Catherine about it. Given the way Blaine looked, the old woman must’ve put the worst spin possible on this. “I don’t know what Irene told you—”
“She didn’t have to tell me anything except that she found this in this house. The rest is pretty self-explanatory. You’re working for Salazar.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. She had to make him understand it wasn’t anything like that. But what could she tell him? Everyone always thought the worst of her…assigned the most despicable motive on her every action. The coffee she’d had churned in her belly violently, and she felt like it was eating away at her stomach. “I didn’t read it.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?” he spat. “You passed on the opportunity to read everything about my life? You weren’t even the slightest bit curious?”
“Blaine, I swear to you. I didn’t read it.”
“Suuure. Tell me something, Catherine. Is anything you’ve told me the truth? Or did you fabricate everything, knowing all the right buttons to push? Whoever Salazar hired to dig up all that stuff about me was thorough. It’s amazing what you can find out about somebody if you have the money.”
“I…” She hesitated. If she told him she was terrible at reading, that it gave her a horrible headache, would he believe her or would it give him another thing to jeer about?
“I just want to know why—what’s in it for you? You’re exactly Salazar’s type—young and beautiful. But he’d never leave his wife, not even for someone like you. So let’s say he offered you some money, but how much could he offer that could tempt you? You already seem to have money of your own, given the kind of clothes you wear and car you drive. Not to mention your four thousand-dollar purse. Why would somebody like you go as far as to sleep with me? It’s overkill.” Blaine breathed out roughly. “Then Sean told me you needed a rich husband, and the report conveniently has all sorts of financial information about me, including the fifty million bucks Salazar will give me if I acknowledge him as my father. Then it all became clear.”
Catherine’s cheeks blazed like he’d slapped her. She curled her hands into fists. “Are you calling me a whore?”
“You tell me. What do you call a woman who sleeps with a guy she feels nothing for for money?”
An uncontrollable tremor ran through her. She locked her knees as they shook, but she couldn’t do a thing about the tears that spilled freely. They gathered at the tip of her chin and dripped. He hadn’t said anything she hadn’t heard or thought of herself before. But it hurt unbearably to hear them from his lips, each word like a bullet tearing into her.
“Is that what you think?” she said. “That your pathetic fifty million can get me to throw away my dignity and self-respect?” Her voice shook, but she couldn’t control it. Not like this. She reverted to the Catherine Scarlett Fairchild her mother had raised, with her cool moneyed diction and hauteur. That Catherine wouldn’t crumble no matter what Blaine said, while the other one—the one who’d slept with Blaine because she wanted him—would.
She took half a step forward. Blaine’s eyes narrowed with something dark and volatile, but he didn’t back away. No, why would he? Because he wasn’t stupid and was able to take care of himself on his own, he believed he had every right to judge her. Call her a whore.
“I’ll tell you something.” Her lips twisted with pain and regret and scorn for herself. “If I’d been thinking about money, I would never have slept with you. Do you think you’re going to be rich enough to afford me? You’re not even a tenth of a billionaire.” She laughed. “Salazar himself isn’t rich enough to afford me. I have my sights set on the kind of man who makes more money than most countries’ annual GDP. Do you know why my cousin forwarded me the invitation that your brother read? Because that’s the kind of men who’re going to be at Barron Sterling’s granddaughter’s wedding. She knows exactly the kind of man I want to marry.”
All the color drained from Blaine’s face, and he was so rigid he shook. He didn’t speak. He probably couldn’t, not with his jaw clenched so tight.
She reached over and opened the door. “Get out. You aren’t welcome here any longer.” When he didn’t move, she arched an eyebrow. “Do you want me to call the sheriff and have him remove you? I have no problem with that.”
Blaine raked her with a head-to-toe glance and walked out, leaving the manila folder behind. She shut the door and leaned against it, willing her tears to stop and knowing it’d be futile.
* * *
Blaine climbed into his truck and pressed his forehead against the steeri
ng wheel. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Hadn’t said anything that was out of line—all the facts were on his side—but when she’d looked at him with tears streaming down her cheeks, he’d felt like the lowest kind of scum-sucker and swallowed all the horrible things he wanted to say to hurt her. Because even after all this, he couldn’t bear to see her in pain.
And the cold mask that had come over her as she’d said all those things about how he wasn’t good enough for her with or without the fifty million… If he hadn’t seen it himself he would’ve never thought her capable of it. He’d seen that look only once before: on Ceinlys’ face when she’d come to Cooter’s Bluff to threaten his mother.
Stay away from my husband, you little slut, if you want to keep your brat.
Catherine’s performance had proven him right… He rubbed his mouth as bitterness flooded him and bit his lower lip. His heart shouldn’t twist like this. He’d known Catherine for only a few weeks. So what if they’d slept together? It wasn’t like whatever they had was destined to go beyond that.
But he hurt anyway, and he couldn’t help but admit that he cared about her more than he should have as he tasted blood.
Chapter Nineteen
There was a knock at the door.
Not only did Catherine stay prone on the couch, she didn’t even move the arm that was flung over her eyes. She had no desire for more visitors. Blaine had been plenty.
Another knock.
She should find a good cave to hide in. Actually, living on a deserted island sounded like a great idea right now. If it was tropical and lush, she could probably eat fruit while sunning every day on the beach. Just imagine. Nobody to judge her or bother her. No man to impress. No one would care about her measurements or whether she looked toned.
Nothing she’d have to read.
There were small sounds of metal-on-metal at the door, sounds that her mind somehow classified as fidgety, and then the door clicked open. Was it a burglar? She should probably sit up at least and pretend to care, but that seemed like too much work. Besides, she hadn’t eaten since the morning. Surely that excused her inability to jump up, gasp, scream or whatever it was that a sane, normal woman would’ve done in this situation.
“Oh my gosh, what happened to you?”
Amandine?
Catherine removed her arm from her eyes and blinked as her cousin’s face came into focus. Her long golden hair was beautifully styled into a sophisticated French twist, and a peach-colored one-piece dress showed off her already trim-again figure. Diamond solitaires winked from her ears, and a matching necklace circled her slim throat. She looked expensive and elegant, something Catherine was not. “How did you get in?” Catherine winced at how her voice sounded.
“Thomas picked the lock.” She held up a forestalling hand. “Don’t ask. I didn’t know he could do that.”
“You came here with Thomas? What’s Gavin going to do, stay at home the whole time you’re gone?”
“I know, right? But Gavin wouldn’t let me come see you unless I had Thomas with me. He’s become quite the hovering father since the baby.” Amandine knelt in front of the couch. “Hey, are you sick?” Her cool skin felt good on Catherine’s forehead. “You aren’t feverish.”
“Just napping a bit. But you look well. Motherhood must suit you,” Catherine said.
“Only because Gavin and his nanny are helping out.”
With an effort, Catherine levered herself up and patted the sofa next to her. “So what brings you all the way out here?”
Amandine sat down. “Well…Ethan and Gavin are worried about you.”
“Really? I find that hard to believe.” Hard to believe anybody cared about her, when she herself couldn’t.
Amandine looked sympathetic. “Ethan’s genuinely sorry.”
“He cleared my name, and that’s more than I expected. So…” Catherine shrugged.
“Come on, Catherine. Don’t be like that.”
“Why do you care? It’s not as if you like me.” And for many good reasons. Catherine didn’t blame her cousin one bit.
“That’s not true.”
“Really? So you didn’t think I went to L.A. to tempt Gavin away from you?”
“If you don’t mind, can we just forget about all that ugly stuff?”
The response took Catherine slightly aback. “Do you really want to pretend none of it happened?”
“Yeah, I do. Why hang on to bad memories? Life’s too short, and you and I…well, we were family a long time before Jacob and Gavin.”
Catherine searched Amandine’s face. In her experience, women didn’t generally extend unconditional olive branches her way. And she wanted to believe this offer was genuine.
So take it, Catherine. If you don’t, you’ll never find out.
“Thank you, Amandine. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t worry about it. I haven’t been always nice to you either. This is the only time I’m going to mention it, but the first thing I worried about when I heard about Jacob and the stripper was that you were single again and Gavin might want you back.” Amandine cringed. “God, that sounds so shallow and self-centered.”
“It’s only natural to think about yourself.” Catherine patted her cousin’s knee. “I would’ve done the same.”
Amandine put her hand over Catherine’s. “I know you don’t like Jacob’s family, but you should give them a chance to make things right. They feel awful about what happened. And they don’t believe you married Jacob for money anymore.”
Catherine clenched the hand her cousin held. “I did love him, in the beginning at least. He was so wonderful, so charming… Full of promise, you know? I thought I’d found my white knight, the man who’d deliver me from everything, including my mother. He didn’t want to live in Charleston, didn’t want to get married in Charleston, and most importantly didn’t let my mother intimidate him. You know how she can be.”
Amandine nodded.
“But it doesn’t matter. No matter what I do, once men get to know me…really know me, they stop wanting me.”
“That’s not true. One day the guy who’s right for you will see you, the whole you, and realize how wonderful and lovely you are inside and out.”
Catherine couldn’t stop herself from smiling a little at her cousin’s naïveté. But then that had been part of her charm. She believed in fairy tales.
“Hey, I know that smile.” Amandine’s tone turned chastising. “Trust me. You’re the one who told me not to sell myself short. You said if I didn’t value myself nobody else would either. If you hadn’t hit me in the face with that advice, I would’ve lost the man I love. So why don’t you take your own advice? You’re worth a million Jacobs,” Amandine said. “And stop hiding. It’s not like you. Come to Kerri and Ethan’s wedding. Jacob won’t be there.”
“How can you be sure?”
“He’s not invited. Stella made sure of it.”
“Stella.” Catherine mused over the name. “Not exactly my biggest fan. You know she uprooted all the yellow roses in her garden when she found out they were my favorite, don’t you?”
“Gavin tells me she replanted them.”
Catherine looked at her cousin. Of all the things she’d expected to hear, that hadn’t been on the list.
“Come on. It’ll be good for you to get out and mingle with your old friends,” Amandine continued. “If you want, you can stay with me and Gavin until we leave for the wedding. This town isn’t you.”
“That’s true enough. But I’m here because I’m doing a favor for Salazar.”
Amandine gave her a puzzled frown. “Salazar? What does he want you to do?”
“Help out with a…family issue. But I don’t think I can do anything for him. Things haven’t quite gone as planned.”
“Oh… Well, that’s too bad.” They sat for a moment in silence. “So if there’s nothing keeping you here, why not come stay with me? Salazar can sort out his own family mess, which I’m sure he brought on himself.”
/> “You don’t have a very high opinion of him, do you?”
“I know you like him because he was your dad’s best friend, and it’s not like he’s ever been impolite to me or anything…but I can’t get too worked up about a guy who cheats on his wife,” Amandine said. Catherine understood exactly. In different circumstances, and given his womanizing ways, she herself might not have been so fond of Salazar, no matter how charming or perceptive he was. “I brought my jet, so we can fly to L.A. together. You know. Relax, do a little shopping, get ready for the wedding. There’s only a week or so left, so we need to go soon for the rehearsal dinner and stuff.”
A week? “I thought you said it was three weeks from now.” Amandine looked puzzled. “In your letter,” Catherine clarified.
“Nooo… I don’t think I did.”
Ugh. Catherine made a face. She must’ve misread it or misremembered. Typical. This was why she didn’t read. Too much effort for too little return. “What about my car?”
“I’ll have Thomas take care of it.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Was there any reason to delay the inevitable? She needed to get out, put some distance between herself and this nowhere town that looked at her too closely. She should’ve left the moment Willie Rae had stolen her purse. That probably had been a sign. “All right. Let me pack my things—there aren’t that many—and we can go,” she said. “I’ll call Salazar from the airport to let him know I’m finished.”
* * *
Amandine’s plane—the anniversary gift that had had everyone in the family talking—was gorgeous. That was the only word to describe it. But her cousin deserved much more than just some jet, and Catherine was glad she’d gotten it.
“I can’t believe Gavin thought this would make up for everything,” Catherine said, running her hand down the baby-soft leather. The pink-tone interior was soothing and feminine. Unlike Salazar’s house, the jet actually had a few tasteful art pieces. “On the other hand, I do. Wow.”
Amandine shrugged. “He said maybe it’d make me travel more.”