Alison’s brother sat down at his desk and used a tiny key from his key chain to open the top drawer. He drew out an envelope, from which he took several five-by-seven photographs, and then he turned on the desk light, which enveloped him in an eerie halo.
More porn? Andrew wondered, as Bret rolled back in the chair and held the pictures up, splayed in his hand so that he could see several of them at once. Andrew could just make out a naked woman in what looked like graphic poses. He eased the closet door open, hesitating at a loud creak of the hinges.
Christ. There was nothing to do but duck out of sight and pray. The door would creak again if he shut it. If Bret turned around, Andrew would have to talk his way out of this. But when he looked again, he saw that Bret hadn’t moved. He seemed oblivious to the noise, so engrossed in the pictures he’d tuned everything else out.
Andrew decided to risk it. He crept up behind him, close enough to see the woman in the photos. His stomach lurched when he saw who it was. The sexy blonde who had her legs open and was pleasuring herself was Alison Fairmont.
Andrew fought back the sour taste of stomach acid. The questions assaulting him were ugly, more disturbing than the photos. Bret was clearly twisted, but what about Alison? Andrew could see that this was a much younger Alison, probably still in her mid to late teens. But Bret would have been younger, too, younger than her. Had he taken these photos himself? And had Alison posed for him?
Bret shifted in the chair. Andrew thought he’d been caught, but Bret’s eyes never left the screen. He seemed hypnotized, totally unaware that someone else was in the room. Fighting a wave of disgust, Andrew realized that the little pervert was reaching down to unzip his pants. It was time to make an exit.
“Oh, look, here’s a lovely pinot! Alison, let’s have some wine and relax while Rebecca’s gone to find those other sizes.”
Marnie uttered not a word of protest as Julia poured them each a generous glass of the ruby-red wine. Just moments ago, Marnie had collapsed on one of the dressing room’s velvet settees, and she intended to stay there. She really couldn’t hold a candle to Julia when it came to power shopping. The two of them had been trying on clothes all morning, and Marnie was ready for a shot of oxygen. Julia didn’t even look winded.
At least the shopping was a distraction from the worry about her gramma Jo. Andrew must have been up before dawn. He was already gone when she woke up, but he’d left a note telling her not to go out hunting for her grandmother. He still had concerns about Marnie’s safety, and had told her he would do the searching. He’d promised that he would track down her grandmother himself or put a detective on the job.
It was difficult, but Marnie had decided to trust him with the search. She wasn’t nearly as worried about her own safety as she was Gramma Jo’s, but she didn’t want to undermine his efforts—or have Julia get suspicious about what the two of them were doing.
Julia brought a tray with the wine and some appetizers from the light buffet the store had set up in their fancy private dressing room. It was the size of a small apartment, with its own wet bar, fridge, microwave and bathroom. Marnie couldn’t get over it. She’d grown up in a house with less square footage than this—and not nearly as well furnished.
“Isn’t this fun?” Julia said, sliding the tray between them on the settee. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that we found you some things that fit. But really, darling, it’s time for an entire new wardrobe. Andrew should have helped you with that before you came. Look at you.” At Marnie’s wilted state, she shook her head. “You’ve lost your will to shop.”
“I’m fine.” Marnie took a sip of the wine and sighed. Lovely. Really. She could get used to this. Maybe not the shopping, but the wine, the appetizers and the cushy velvet furnishings.
It did feel odd sitting around in her underwear, but the store had provided silk kimonos to wear while they were waiting for Rebecca to come back with the different sizes. Normally it would have been one of the store’s stylists, but Rebecca had volunteered.
Private dressing rooms were a first for Marnie, as were most of her experiences so far as a Fairmont. But she was learning to deal with Alison’s life by being quiet and observant, and by following Julia’s lead. If Julia loved a polka-dot capri outfit on her, that was the one Marnie chose. If she thought a certain dress needed alterations, Marnie stood on the seamstress’s stool and let herself be measured and turned, the garment pinned and tucked.
Flying under the radar. Marnie was used to that. She’d had to do it most of her life, but never like this, immersed in enemy territory.
“Are you having fun?” Julia asked.
There was a hopeful note in her voice, which made it easy for Marnie to smile and say that she was. “I’ve missed having a mom to go shopping with.”
Marnie had actually been thinking about her grandmother when she said “mom,” but should she have said “mother”? Did the Fairmonts use words like mom? Surprisingly, Julia seemed touched. She tried to laugh it off, but the sparkle in her eyes looked suspiciously like tears.
“I don’t think you’ve ever said that to me before,” she replied softly.
Marnie wasn’t sure what to do. Julia set down her wine, trying to regain her composure. On impulse, Marnie sprang up and went over to her. They were hugging even before Julia had risen to her feet.
Marnie’s only desire was to put her at ease. It was hard for her to witness any kind of suffering, probably because she’d had her own fair share. But Julia was clinging to her, and Marnie didn’t know how to comfort her, except to hang on, too. It was so odd. In the enemy’s arms, Marnie felt the very real concern of a mother for her child. Julia really did love Alison.
The awareness touched Marnie, but it also stirred guilt about pretending to be the daughter Julia so clearly wanted a relationship with. She was glad to have seen this side of Julia. She wouldn’t have guessed it existed, but she didn’t want to complicate things by adding to her pain.
Julia pulled back, and Marnie felt a tug of sadness. She wanted something like this, too, a connection with another human being. She missed her grandmother and the comfort that had come from their special bond. This life was lavish, but lonely.
“Sorry,” Julia said. Hurriedly, she began to straighten herself, brushing at her hair and rearranging her kimono. She was clearly embarrassed.
Marnie stepped back to give her some room. “Would you like your wine?”
“Yes, please.” Julia sat down and took the glass Marnie handed her. When she looked up, she was clearly chagrinned. “That was awkward,” she said. “I do apologize.”
“Why, for heaven’s sake?”
Julia took a deep breath and chased it with a swallow of the wine. She shook her head, as if gathering herself for something. “Let’s talk about you, Alison,” she said. “Please, while Rebecca’s not here. I’m worried.”
“Why? What about me?”
“You would tell me if anything was wrong, wouldn’t you? You didn’t seem at all yourself when you showed up in the kitchen this morning.”
“I’m not sleeping well,” Marnie said. “It was a bad night.”
Julia’s gaze was searching. “I know this is going to be hard to hear, but I have to say it. Everyone believed that Andrew tried to kill you, including me. And you can’t really blame any of us. There was the accident and the insurance policy, and the two of you weren’t getting along. Why were you even out on the seas in that storm?”
Marnie finally understood why Alison and Andrew had been summoned to Sea Clouds. Julia was concerned about her daughter’s inheritance, and her son-in-law’s motives. And if she believed him capable of attempted murder, then her distrust was profound. It was ground zero for Alison Fairmont and her mother, and Marnie was going to have to rebuild from the ashes. Now. The rebuilding had to start this moment, but sadly, it would all be lies.
“Going for a sail was my idea,” she said. “Andrew and I had been having some problems, and I wanted to be on the water. I th
ought we’d be able to talk there. He warned me about the storm, but I insisted.”
It was almost exactly the story Andrew had told her. Not completely lies, then. “Really, everything’s all right,” she said imploringly. “Drink your wine and let’s talk about something else, anything, that silk jersey wrap dress. Did you like it?”
“No, let me finish. I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you this since you arrived. Sit down, please.”
Marnie did, and Julia continued. “You and Bret will each come into a great deal of money when I’m gone,” she said, “but Alison, never forget that you’re wealthy now. Your grandmother’s trust will be yours on your next birthday. It’s been carefully managed by Jack Furlinghetti, one of the estate attorneys, and it’s worth considerably more than fifty million now. It’s important that you’re prepared to handle it wisely.”
Marnie was stunned. Andrew had said the trust might still be coming to her, but she had figured the family lawyers would find some way around that.
“Of course,” Marnie said. “I’m sure Mr. Furlinghetti will advise me.”
“I know you’re shocked. I can hear it in your voice.” Julia twisted her ring. “I wasn’t being honest with you last February. I said you’d breached the morals clause by running away, that you’d blown your chance at the trust. I was still angry and wanted to hurt you. I apologize for that.”
Marnie nodded, afraid anything she said could give her away. Apparently Andrew knew nothing about this, either. He’d never mentioned it.
“Alison, do not put the money in Andrew’s name. Don’t commingle it with your joint funds or give him control in any way—”
“Mother, Andrew has his own money.”
“How much? Just exactly what does he have?”
“I don’t know. We don’t discuss it.”
“That’s what I thought.” Her hand closed over Marnie’s forearm. “Alison, I can help you. I have the means to get you out of any situation you’re in. I have the means to make him go away, just talk to me. Tell me what’s he’s done, and we can deal with it together.”
“He hasn’t done anything. Really. Why do you think he has?”
Julia’s fingers tightened on Marnie’s arm. “You must remember that nasty mess with Regine several years ago. You were there when it happened.”
“When what happened?” Marnie was stunned. Julia must mean that Alison had been involved somehow. Was she talking about the love triangle Andrew had alluded to? He’d refused to discuss it with Marnie beyond insisting that Regine’s death was an accident.
Julia’s eyebrows shot up. “When she drowned at his New York apartment in that ridiculous rooftop pool, of course. The police report said you were there that evening, at the scene.”
Marnie knew Alison had moved to New York and that she’d been a source of support to Andrew after Regine’s death. The tragedy had actually brought the two of them back together, but Marnie knew nothing about Alison’s having been there that night. She wondered how Julia could have known.
“You mean the newspaper, right?” she asked Julia. “How could you have known what was in the police report? They don’t make those things public.”
Julia drained her wine glass and glanced around as if she wanted a refill.
Marnie snatched the glass away. “Answer me,” she said, her voice faint. “How did you know what was in the police report?”
“I hired a detective to check up on Andrew, but only because I wanted to protect you. I was terrified he might try to harm you, too.” Julia rifled through her tote bag, pulled out an accordian file and handed it to Marnie. “Here’s what the investigator uncovered. I never told you because I was afraid you’d hate me for interfering, but your accident convinced me that I was right about Andrew. Look at it, Alison. Dammit, look.”
Reluctantly, Marnie set down the wine glass and took the file. Inside was extensive coverage on nearly every aspect of Andrew’s life. She skimmed the reports of his financial and personal history. If the figures were accurate, he had considerable wealth at the time of Regine’s death, but that wasn’t what Julia wanted her to see, she realized. There were also old newspaper clippings, and one instantly caught Marnie’s eye. It was a story about Regine’s death with a huge color picture of the young pop star.
According to the caption, the shot was taken at a concert a month prior to the drowning accident. Petite and elegant in a form-fitting gold lame jumpsuit, Regine waved to the crowd. Her ginger-colored hair was pulled tight against her scalp and knotted in a long, swinging ponytail. Huge pink gems sparkled from her earlobes.
“The earrings,” Marnie whispered. She touched her own earlobe. She’d actually worn the pink diamonds today for the first time since the reception. She’d been hoping to feel their magic again, but what she felt now was horror. He’d given her his dead fiancée’s earrings?
Julia pushed back Marnie’s hair for a better look at the earrings. Obviously she hadn’t noticed them at the reception. Marnie’s hair had covered them that night, too. “When did he give you these?” she demanded. “You know their history, don’t you? These are the Villard diamonds. They’re cursed.”
“I don’t believe in curses.” Marnie was utterly shaken by the thought of wearing jewelry he’d given to Regine. Why hadn’t he told her?
“Read the background information on Andrew,” Julia urged. “The earrings belonged to his mother. She was an opera singer, supposedly with great promise, but she died in a freak accident when Andrew was a teenager. He inherited the gems and gave them to Regine—and she died in a freak accident. Now, you’ve had an accident, too.”
And so had the real Alison. Marnie had been given the earrings after the accident, but she couldn’t tell Julia. Andrew hadn’t said whether he’d given the earrings to Alison before she disappeared, but he’d said she loved to wear diamonds, that she wore them to bed and nothing else.
Marnie tried to quiet the quaking sensation in her gut. It seemed possible that she was the fourth woman in his life to wear the Villard diamonds, and the other women were either dead or missing. That did sound like a curse.
“Take them off,” Julia said. “Just take them off.”
Marnie removed the earrings and jammed them into her bag.
“Now read the police report,” Julia insisted. “Read the whole file. You need to know everything.”
“Enough,” Marnie said. “I’ve heard enough.”
“Fine then, live in denial. You already know the worst. You were there when they charged him with her murder.”
Murder? Marnie could hardly breathe as she stared at the papers in her lap. He’d been charged? Marnie hadn’t questioned Andrew’s claim that Regine’s death was an accident. She’d had enough to handle with her own recovery and transformation. Now Marnie had to read the police report. Otherwise, she wouldn’t know what Julia was talking about—or the extent of Andrew’s lies.
21
Andrew stepped out of the shower onto the marble floor, his body pink and steaming from the vigorous scrub he’d given himself. The first thing he did was check out the light slanting through the bathroom window. The rays were pale, the color of eggwash, but the angle told him it was late afternoon, probably around four o’clock.
The second thing he did was grab a towel from the cabinet. He knotted it around his hips and took another one for his dripping hair. Earlier, he’d dozed off in an overstuffed chair in the bedroom, waiting for Marnie to get back from shopping, but unfortunately, it wasn’t her that had jolted him awake, queasy and sweating. A lurid dream of Bret and Alison had sent him straight to the shower, where he’d cranked up the water as hot as he could get it. Everything about that perverted scenario made him feel unclean.
He wanted to believe there was some explanation, but he wasn’t optimistic. Bret was clearly a demented little fiend, and Andrew didn’t know what to think about Alison. He’d suspected her of many things, but incest and porn weren’t among them. Worse, as far as he could tell, the discov
ery meant nothing to his investigation, which put it in the category of more information than Andrew wanted to know. He couldn’t completely dismiss it, though. He couldn’t dismiss anything right now.
Andrew finished shaving and was patting on some cologne when he heard someone enter the bedroom. He pulled on a terry robe and went to the partially open bathroom door. It was Marnie, loaded down with shopping bags. She and Julia must have had a productive day.
He watched as she dropped the bags on the bed, rolled her shoulders and clasped her hands in the air, stretching like a dancer after a hard practice session. Tension sharpened her breathing. She wasn’t relaxing for the fun of it. She was much too on edge for that. She looked different, too, dramatically different. Andrew’s gut clenched as he noticed the ultra short, sleek hair.
It was another long moment before he saw what she’d actually done. The long dark waves were gathered in a knot at the nape of her neck. She’d pulled her hair back and off her face.
He let out the breath he’d been holding. Fuck.
She was changing before his eyes, he realized. She didn’t look so young anymore, so impossibly young. Her cropped aquamarine jacket and matching pants were sexy and sophisticated, and her feet were encased in sky-high, pointy heels made of soft, silvery leather. It was an outfit a woman with style and money would have worn. Lots of style and money. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.
Good, he told himself. To think anything else would be as stupid as it was selfish.
The dark circles under her eyes told him she wasn’t sleeping well, either. Hell, why should he be the only one? On her, dark circles looked sullen and sultry. Even drunkenness and dissipation would have looked good on her, he feared. She wore no jewelry at all except for the gold bangles on her arms.
Still, it was quite a transformation.
And it worked, too. His chest was wire tight.
The Arrangement Page 22