Her Lover's Legacy

by Adrianne Byrd

  Before his rift with his father, Malcolm rather enjoyed their volleying quips whenever he visited his father’s office. And Lord knew it was impossible not to notice how a room’s temperature would jump whenever they were together.

  He studied Gloria’s smile on the TV screen, and then closed his eyes to recall the sound of her laughter the few times she’d let down her guard to actually relax. But none of that compared to how he felt whenever she was in his arms. Somehow, she always felt like home.

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  Malcolm’s front door jumped and rattled.

  “Who on earth?” Malcolm stood from the sofa and went to answer the door. Seconds before he could reach it, the door jumped again. “Who is it?”

  “Open this damn door,” Gloria barked.

  Malcolm frowned. This certainly didn’t sound good.

  He opened the door and Gloria stormed inside, jabbing a finger into the center of his chest.

  “How dare you hang up on me!” she shouted. “I’ve had enough of you being an arrogant ass.”

  Malcolm could do no more than blink at the ball of fire in front of him. He’d never seen her so angry. She’d never looked so passionate or so beautiful.

  “If you don’t want to run for Congress—fine! If you don’t want me—fine! But one thing you won’t do is disrespect me. You got that?”

  Shooting his hands up in surrender, Malcolm knew when he was defeated. “You’re right. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have hung up on you.”

  The apology seemed to cool her temper a little—very little. Gloria straightened her shoulders. “That’s better.” She drew a breath. “Now. I didn’t call about us or whatever we were. I called because…there’s been a few irregularities going on at the office.”

  Malcolm’s expression twisted in confusion. “What do you mean, irregularities?”

  Gloria snatched open her satchel and shoved the papers at him.

  “What’s this?

  “Credit card bills and cell phone bills.”

  “What? You want me to pay them or something?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “A couple of weeks ago I received Harmon’s final American Express bill and there was a charge from Carlson Travel Agency.”

  “Yeah. And?”

  “I didn’t make the charge. I called the agency and apparently your father booked a flight to Washington the day he died.”

  “Why was he going to Washington?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. I handled all your father’s travel arrangements. In fact, I handled everything pertaining to his personal and business scheduling. Plus, we have a separate account for travel. Why would he use his American Express card? And why not tell me about it? What if I had a conflicting event on his schedule?”

  Malcolm shrugged. He didn’t know much about his father’s business habits. “I’m sure there was a logical explanation.”

  “Then there is the cell phone bill.”

  “What about it?”

  “There’s one number Harmon called a lot—Stewart Industries. He even called there the day he died. I called the number and it’s a basic switchboard line. You’d think he’d have a direct number to an office or something. Then…”

  “There’s more.”

  “Well, I’d completely forgotten about it, but I received a call about a week after the funeral. It was weird. The caller just said, ‘It wasn’t an accident.’”

  “What wasn’t an accident?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought it was a prank. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “What—you think the caller was talking about my father’s car accident?”

  “Honestly?” she said. “I don’t know what I think anymore. First I thought I was just being paranoid, but now I just have this feeling that something’s not right.”

  Malcolm paced a bit. “I don’t know, Gloria. The police report didn’t find any foul play. It was a single-car accident. As far as the call, I don’t know. Maybe someone was just playing a joke on you. There are a lot of heartless bastards out there who would get off on this sort of thing.”

  “Then there’s Joe Dennis,” she said.

  Malcolm’s chest deflated. “What about him?”

  “He was acting all weird. The first time I called him—after I received the credit card bill—I asked him if he knew anything about the trip, he said that he dropped your father off at the mansion around 4:00 p.m. and that Harmon told him I’d call with his pickup time. How was I going to call him about a pickup time when I didn’t even know he was going anywhere?”

  Malcolm ran his hand over his head. “Maybe he was confused.”

  “I called him again today when I received the cell phone bill. I asked whether he’d ever taken Harmon out to Stewart Industries, and you know what he said? He told me to leave well enough alone. What the hell does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.” Malcolm shook his head and sighed. “Maybe you’re blowing things out of proportion.”

  “What—you think I’m a complete nut job now? I don’t know whether or not I’m in love with you, and now I don’t know when my former boss was behaving oddly?” She snatched back the papers. “Just forget it. I don’t know why I bothered you in the first place. You’re too busy trying to run away from me.”

  “I’m not running—”

  “Spare me,” she hissed, and rolled her eyes. “Like I’ve said before, when things get hot you run out the door. You ran away from your father, your destiny and now me. I thought about that line of b.s. you hurled at me about loving the idea of you. It’s not true. Thing is, I think I loved you from the beginning. Just like I think you’ve always loved me. That, or you just like having my picture up on your television screen every time I come over.”

  Malcolm turned his head and saw her image still frozen on the screen.

  “Sure, I wanted you to take your father’s place as congressman,” she said, bringing his attention back to her. “Sue me. But as far as my feelings for you, I didn’t care if you were a congressman or a garbage man. I love you because I thought you were a man of integrity. I love your big heart and how much you invest yourself into your charities and foundation. Hell, I even feel guilty for being mad about you running off to Malawi when I know it’s just to help people. But forgive me if I want you here for me.”

  “Gloria—”

  “No.” Gloria opened the door. “You’ve walked out on me too many times this month. This time, it’s my turn.” Pivoting on her heels, Gloria stormed out and slammed the door behind her.

  Chapter 20

  Stunned, Malcolm stared at the door.

  You better hope that this Gloria situation doesn’t turn into something else you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting.

  “Gloria!” Malcolm bolted out of his reverie and snatched open the front door. The hall was empty. He turned in time to see her step inside the elevator. “Gloria!” He took off after her and caught just a flash of her tilting up her chin and her stony expression as the steel doors slid shut.

  “Damn.” He slapped a hand against the door and then bolted toward the stairwell. He flew down the stairs, hanging on to the rail to keep his balance. Despite taking the stairs two at a time, Malcolm feared he wasn’t going fast enough. His heart beat somewhere in the pit of his stomach, tangled among knots of fear.

  What have I done? The thought floated across his head. Why had it taken for her to slam the door in his face for him to clear his mind?

  I didn’t care if you were a congressman or a garbage man. I loved you.

  Loved. Past tense.

  He’d just made the biggest mistake in his life, and the best thing that had ever happened to him was likely gone forever.

  Malcolm finally reached the bottom floor and jetted out of the stairwell like a speeding bullet. Where is she? His head spun around, hoping he’d made it to the bottom floor before she had. As he passed by the elevator, he noticed the compartment empty.

  As he raced out of the b
uilding, his next play was to reach her before she made it to her car. But as he rushed into the parking lot, he spotted her Mini Cooper pull out of a parking space.

  “Gloria!” Malcolm’s legs picked up speed.

  Unfortunately, Gloria put the pedal to the metal. A small white cloud jetted out of the tailpipe as her tires squealed and she sped out of the parking lot. Car horns blared in her wake. No way was he going to be able to catch up with her.

  “Damn.”

  Tears streamed down Gloria’s face while her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Screw him and his ‘I don’t need anybody’ attitude,” she spat at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She backhanded a few tears, but they were quickly replaced by a fresh stream, pouring from the fractured wells of her soul.

  Why in the hell had she admitted that she loved him again? Why continue to give him the power to keep breaking her heart?

  Malcolm had always been a loner. She knew that. He’d always marched to the beat of his own drum. She knew that, too. So why was any of this a surprise? She knew all along that when it came to their relationship, they were like oil and water.

  They just didn’t mix.

  “Just pull yourself together,” she coached herself. “No man is worth your tears,” she reminded herself, thinking of the days her mother would cry over her deadbeat dad. Hadn’t she promised herself that she would never allow a man to hurt her?

  And yet…losing Malcolm seemed worthy of her tears.

  For so long, she’d kept her life nice and orderly. She devoted her time and heart to her career. Work filled up her time to the point she never noticed how lonely she was. Her heart was locked safe behind a glass wall; but in these past few weeks, that glass had shattered and its sharp pieces had pierced her heart.

  Her heartbreak felt like a long agonizing death. If this was love, she wanted nothing to do with it. It hurt too much.

  Gloria made a forty-minute ride across town in twenty minutes. When she jumped out of her car and stormed toward her apartment building, she tried her best to hang on to her anger. It was all she had to buffet her pain, but it was slowly ebbing away. The pain grew more intense.

  Gloria caught a few curious stares as she breezed onto the elevator and then down the hallway to her apartment. She didn’t care. Let them see that she wasn’t always pulled together. She wasn’t always calm, cool and efficient.

  In her apartment, she tumbled onto the bed—a sobbing heap, an emotional wreck. As she gathered the pile of pillows, Gloria’s body trembled with earth-quaking sobs.

  The phone rang.

  Gloria lifted her head to stare at the phone by the bed. Malcolm’s name appeared on the caller ID.

  The call transferred to voice mail and Malcolm’s voice boomed into the bedroom. “Gloria, are you there? If you’re there, pick up. Call me back. We need to talk.”

  Now he wants to talk?

  Gloria plopped her head back onto the pillows and closed her eyes. “I hate him. I hate him,” she cried. Maybe if she said it enough times, it would be true.

  Malcolm slammed the phone down and paced his living room. All the emotions he’d tried to suppress now bubbled to the surface as he paced around the room. Gloria’s face remained frozen on the television screen. There had to be a way for him to fix this.

  Why was it when it came to helping people through his charity work, he was a master in his field? But when it came to his personal life, he was clueless. How was it possible to grow up in such a loving household, where he witnessed the love between his parents, and then be so inept at following their example?

  Malcolm picked up the phone again and dialed Paula’s number. They would have to find someone else to take his place on the Malawi trip. There was no way he was leaving now. No way could he leave things the way they were between him and Gloria. He had to win her back.

  Starting toward his bedroom to find his BlackBerry, Malcolm stepped on a sheet of paper. He bent down and picked it up. It was one of the pages of the credit card bill. He glanced at the airline charge and frowned.

  Was it so odd for his father to make his own travel arrangements? He had to admit he’d never known his father to do that. Malcolm thought about his own relationship with Paula and couldn’t remember the last time he’d handled his own travel arrangements, either. Surely his father, a much busier man, would clear a business trip with his assistant.

  Grabbing his BlackBerry out of his jacket, Malcolm scrolled through his address book and found Joe Dennis’s phone number. Maybe he needed to hear Joe’s explanation for himself. He punched the call button and waited. On the fourth ring the call was transferred to voice mail. Malcolm hung up.

  “Okay, he’s not answering his phone,” he mumbled under his breath. “No big deal. I rarely answer mine.” Malcolm moved to the breakfast bar, sat down and stared at the credit card bill. Why was his father going to Washington? He shrugged. He could be meeting with anyone, but why wouldn’t he tell Gloria? It kept coming back to that.

  Malcolm dialed Gloria’s number again, and again he was transferred to voice mail. Scrolling through his address book, he found her cell phone number and called it.

  No answer.

  Malcolm jumped off the stool, paced. Finally he decided to drive to Gloria’s apartment. Anything was better than waiting.

  As he made his way to his vehicle, his mind turned with the words he needed to apologize. He didn’t deserve her now. His actions in the past two weeks were unforgivable. Apologizing wouldn’t be enough, he decided. He would likely have to beg for forgiveness. And he was totally prepared to do that.

  When his cell phone rang, hope bloomed in his heart as he scrambled to answer it. “Gloria?”

  Silence crackled over the line, and then, “No, it’s me, Shawnie.”

  In the blink of an eye, Malcolm’s hope dissipated.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No, no,” he lied. As he was getting ready to rush her off the phone, he decided to run some of Gloria’s concerns by his sister. “Shawnie, have you ever known Dad to book his own travel arrangements?”

  Shawnie laughed. “Dad? Not likely. He relied on Gloria to take care of things like that. She ran that office like a well-oiled machine.”

  The wheels in Malcolm’s head turned.

  “Why? What’s up?”

  Malcolm quickly brought his sister up to speed with Gloria’s concerns.

  “Stewart Industries?” she asked. “What was Dad’s dealing with them?”

  “You know about them?”

  “Yeah. They are this multibillion-dollar oil outfit with quite a reputation. I wonder what Dad’s business was with them?”

  “I don’t know. It could be anything—or nothing.”

  “Hold on. Let me get Tyson on the line,” she said.

  Before he could object, the line clicked. A few seconds later, she returned while the new line rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Tyson!” Shawnie greeted him. “It’s me and Malcolm. You got a few minutes?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  This time Shawnie related all that Malcolm had told her and they waited for his response.

  “Hmm. That is odd,” Tyson said. “I know I rely on my assistant for everything as well. I wouldn’t dare book something without telling her.”

  “And Joe Dennis?”

  “Well, to be frank, I always thought he was a little odd, myself. As far as the whole Stewart Industries angle, it could be anything. I wonder if there’s any way to find out without raising any suspicion,” Tyson said.

  “Hmm. Maybe there is a way,” Shawnie said almost absently.

  “What do have in mind?” Malcolm asked.

  “I don’t know. Let me think about it. I’ll get back with you.”

  Gloria sat up in bed and mopped her face. Her tears were giving her a migraine. She climbed out of bed, and her hand fell onto her satchel. She pulled out the cell phone bill again and her paranoia returned. “There is something going on,” she mutte
red. “I can just feel it. But what?

  “It wasn’t an accident,” she repeated. How had she forgotten about that? Sure, it could have been a prank, but grouped with the other strange events, she wasn’t so sure. More than ever, she was beginning to regret not calling Drey St. John. If there was something to be found, surely he was the man to find it.

  Gloria climbed out of bed, tossed some water onto her face and headed back out the door. She needed more information if she was going to talk to the private detective, and the only place to do that was back at the office.

  When Gloria climbed into her car, night had descended. It was just as well, she decided. With the office closed and everyone gone, she would have more time and privacy to look—for what, she still wasn’t sure. There had to be something. She was sure of it.

  However, when Gloria entered the building, she wasn’t alone.

  Malcolm made his way over to Gloria’s apartment building. Once he’d pulled into a parking space, he sucked in deep breaths to mount his courage. It had been a long time since he’d been in this position. Apologizing was never his forte—which had been the problem with his father. Had he apologized, they wouldn’t have lost the past two years. He wasn’t going to allow his pride to cost him Gloria’s love.

  He climbed out of his vehicle and marched up to the building, all the while rehearsing in his head what to say when she answered her door. It wasn’t until he was standing before her door did he contemplate what he would do if she refused to let him in. Pulling himself together, he raised his hand and knocked.

  He waited. After a lengthy silence, he tried again—his rap a little harder, but just as insistent. The third time, he hammered on the door. “Gloria, I know you’re in there. Open up.”

  The door rattled.

  “Gloria! Please let me in. I came to apologize.”

  At last, the sound of light footsteps padded toward the door. Malcolm straightened and gathered his composure, prepared to beg. When the door swung open, his eyes widened at the sight of a thinly built male, draped in a silk robe staring back at him.