by Nadia Lee
“Everything?”
I nod.
“My god.” She licks her lips. “How… Why would she release this? It makes her look awful.” She stares at the screen. “She was so smug when she told me about the closet incident… She claimed it was a sign you still wanted her.”
Embarrassment heats my cheeks, and I look away. “No. Actually, that was one of the lowest moments in my life.”
After the ceremony was finished, I finally confronted her in private. When she told me how much she regretted marrying Julian—because, of course, her heart really belonged to me—I told her to prove it. She kissed me, her mouth open and skilled, and I let her. That seemed to encourage her, and she pushed me into the closet where her wedding items were stored and where I then fucked her brutally. She was on birth control, so I didn’t worry about getting her pregnant. All I cared about was payback.
“Elliot, believe me. You’re the only one for me,” she whispered into my ear, her panting breath nauseating against my skin.
I pulled away with open distaste. “Keep telling yourself that while you dance with Julian with my cum in your cunt.”
Her face twisted into an ugly mask as I tucked my cock back into my pants and walked out. The shallow satisfaction lasted only a few moments until I started worrying about a possible STD. Stupid, stupid, stupid. For all I knew, she’d ridden every schlong in the state.
Thankfully, my health check came back clean. But I would always associate the closet incident with an idiotic loss of control on my part. Never again.
“One of her lowest, too, I’m sure,” Belle says softly, pulling me back to the present. I feel her gaze like silk over my face. “She didn’t have to make the incident public… You did this, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make it clear she has zero chance at success. She needs to know that we’re not getting back together…and that I won’t let her threaten you. She’ll be too busy dealing with her husband to bother us for a while.”
Belle nods. “The part about her husband physically abusing her, and her wanting your help to divorce him… Is Stanton going to believe it?”
“He will once he checks the authenticity of the photo with her showing me her bruised arm. Every picture in the article is real. Also, he’s going to discover very soon—thanks to an anonymous tip—that his wife has been using the PIs on his retainer to surveil you.”
“What?”
“That’s how I knew about your meeting with Dennis. She’s been sending me photos. Anonymously.” I snort. “Like that would stop me from finding out who was behind them.”
“So…all the issues we’ve had, they weren’t all because of Mr. Grayson?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t know how—or if—he fits in with her plan. Maybe they worked together and maybe they didn’t. But I’m making sure none of our enemies can damage what we have. I’m cutting them down one by one.”
“I wish you’d told me.” She extends a hand, her palm open and facing up. “I would’ve helped you find some other way.”
I take her hand, marveling at its delicate softness. “I don’t regret it.”
“But this is your private life. It should never have been made public.”
“Belle, believe me. I’d endure far worse to protect you.”
She brings my hand to her mouth and kisses the knuckles, her eyes closed. “You’re more than I deserve, Elliot. Sometimes I feel like you’re going to get tired of fighting my battles and just…walk out of my life.”
I sit next to her and pull her onto my lap. “Shhh. I’m not fighting anyone’s battle but my own. I’m not the kind of man who does things out of noble intentions. I only do things because I want to.”
She sighs against my shoulder, and my hold on her tightens. If she were thinking straight, she’d immediately recognize that if she weren’t with me, she would’ve never been Annabelle Underhill’s target to begin with. A lot of what she’s suffered is because of me—because we met…and I wanted her…and married her…and now because I want to keep her.
As she stays pliant in my arms, I thank every deity I know that she’s too nice and probably too tired at the moment to realize just how bad I am for her. She thinks she has some ugly baggage, but none of that’s about who she is, just the crappy circumstances she’s been in.
But my baggage? I shudder. All my shit is stuff I did because I was too dumb to know any better. Fucking Annabelle Underhill right after she exchanged wedding vows with my dad…releasing a sex tape…and all the other stupid crap… Every time, it was just because I got a wild hair up my ass and said fuck it.
If Belle could think straight even for a second, she’d bail. Vanish faster than a hummingbird.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Annabelle
Nonny’s eyes widen when one of the associates at the spa brings out a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries and places it in front of us. “Are they for us?” she whispers, as masseuses knead our feet.
I nod.
Before I can say more, she snatches one off the silver tray and gobbles it up. “Oh my god,” she moans, the words muffled by chocolate, “this is so good!”
“Swallow before you talk.” My smile ruins the rebuke. It’s difficult to be upset when she’s so happy.
I realize we’ve never had any girl time together. She was too young, then our parents died…and I never had any extra money to spoil her with. Perhaps the need to scrimp became too ingrained, because I never even thought about doing something like this with her until Elliot surprised me this morning.
“All prepaid. Just go have fun,” he told me as he kissed me sweetly after a session of very thorough lovemaking.
“Oh my god, you’ve got to try one, Anna.” Nonny hands me a piece.
We enjoy the blissful chocolate. After a moment, Nonny says, “You okay?”
I give her a frown. “Of course I’m okay.”
“It’s just… I saw that thing about Elliot and his ex.”
I sigh. She’d have to be living in a cave not to have seen it. Even if Elliot were just an average Joe, Annabelle Underhill’s husband is a big deal in the business world.
“Everyone has an ex they’d rather forget about,” I say neutrally.
“Who’s yours? Dennis, right?”
I force a smile. “Something like that. Now hush and enjoy your foot massage.”
Nonny nods, pulls out her phone and starts typing.
My mobile buzzes a moment later. I give her a sideways look, but she’s got her eyes closed.
Sure enough, there’s a new text on my phone. Do you think Elliot cared about the other Annabelle?
I guess there’s no avoiding it. Probably. No reason to date her otherwise. We all think we care about our significant others until they turn out to be all wrong for us. I hit send.
How do you know they’re wrong for you?
I turn to her. “Are you dating someone?”
“Well…sort of.” She shrugs, her cheeks flushed. “That guy from algebra.”
“Who’s also in your history class, right?”
She nods. “He’s cute and super nice. But don’t tell Elliot, because he’ll get all overprotective. I want to wait until, like, our third month before saying anything to him.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
“So…?”
Right. Her question. “When the initial attraction cools a bit and you can actually hear yourself think again, you’ll know.”
“What if it never cools?”
I purse my lips. “Then maybe it’s true love.”
She starts texting again.
My phone buzzes. I look down, then still at my sister’s question. Did it happen for you and Elliot? I raise my head and look at her, suddenly unsure why she’s asking. “Nonny…”
She raises a finger, then types again. I mean the cooling thing. I know you guys fought at least once.
I sigh. People occasionally fight. You and I fight
sometimes too.
But you said our bond is greater—blood and all. I’m your family forever.
A tight lump forms in my throat. I swallow, then answer, Yes, you are. But that doesn’t mean what I have with Elliot is any less. I love him, Nonny.
What about him? Does he love you, too?
I think—I pause, wondering what he feels about me. He hasn’t said the L-word, but surely he feels it. Why else would he have ripped up our contract? I delete what I wrote and just type, Yes.
I watch her expression as she reads my text. Her mouth curls into a brilliant smile. She turns to me. “I’m so happy for you, Anna. You deserve happiness more than anybody.”
“Everyone deserves to be happy.”
“Not the way you do. I know what you gave up for me.”
“I didn’t give up a thing for you,” I say as the skin around my eyes grows hot. “I did what any older sister would’ve done, and I wanted to do it. It was no trouble.”
“You could’ve let someone foster me.”
“Over my dead body.” I exhale slowly so I don’t start crying. “If you love someone, nothing you do for them is really a sacrifice.”
She reaches over and holds my hand. “I love you too.”
I squeeze hers back. Moments like this I can believe my life will always be perfect…with a fairytale ending.
* * *
Elliot
Belle is out with Nonny getting a massage and having her nails done. I encouraged them to indulge—I could sense they needed some sisterly bonding time, plus I wanted them to treat themselves. I love the way my wife glows after a good pampering.
Meanwhile, I shop. I don’t generally shop for gifts myself, but I can’t have my assistant do it when it’s for my wife’s birthday next week.
The problem is I’m not sure exactly what I want to get her. It has to be something very special. Not jewelry—too obvious. Beyond that, price isn’t a consideration. My wife knows I have money, and getting something expensive will appear thoughtless. Unlike most women, she isn’t overly impressed with my bank account.
Perhaps something sentimental and sweet.
Photos? Music, maybe? She might enjoy a concert…or sports. I realize I know very little about her likes, and I feel guilty. I should’ve spent some time getting to know her along with all the seduction, as enjoyable as that is for both of us.
I get a text from Paddington. AU in L.A. and coming your way. Will arrive in twenty minutes.
I almost ask how he knows where I am, but it’s his job to know. I call him.
“Yes?” he says.
“How quickly can you set up surveillance?”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to record our conversation.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s illegal in California to record without her consent,” he says matter-of-factly.
“So make sure to have plausible deniability.”
“I can do that, so long as you don’t think about using it in court.”
“It won’t be for something that silly.” Court won’t stop someone like Annabelle Underhill.
I fool with my phone, checking the market news while making my way slowly to a café. Annabelle’s got to be having me tailed, since she couldn’t know where I am otherwise. I want our scene to take place in a very public venue with no expectation of privacy.
The café I have in mind is faux-Italian. The coffee is horrible—especially if you’ve been to Italy—but it has a small outdoor seating area, and is generally busy enough. It’ll do for what I have in mind.
I tell the server I want an outdoor table. He tells me one’s just opened up. Serendipity.
Without looking at the menu, I order cappuccino and a blueberry scone. The waiter leaves, and I keep fooling with my phone. It doesn’t take long before a shadow darkens my table. I look up.
“Hello, Annabelle,” I purr.
“You fucking bastard,” she spits.
I put down my phone and look at her. Her dark hair is swept up; perfect makeup covers her furious face. Sapphires glitter from her ears and throat, and the sleeveless violet dress she wears looks spray-painted on. The color reminds me of the fading bruises on my wife’s body, and my mood darkens instantly.
I note with derision that Annabelle’s arms are unmarked. Stanton has probably never laid a hand on her.
What a way to squander the one bit of leverage she had over me. Not that it would’ve meant a lot once I knew what she was after. I owed Marlin, but not that much.
“If you must insult me, at least have the decency to sit down first so I don’t get a crick in my neck.” I turn my attention back to my phone.
She takes the seat across the table and slams her palm down. “You think you can get away with that article? I’m going to sue you for libel.”
“It’s libel only if it’s untrue.”
“Oh no. There will be consequences for publishing shit like this.”
“What? You think I did it?”
Her eyes flash with a moment of uncertainty. “Didn’t you?”
The display of anger is just too damn delicious. I shrug with an arrogant smirk. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like people threatening my wife. It was a reminder you have lots of dirt too. I just scratched the surface.”
“No. You used up everything.”
“Oh, I doubt that. A woman like you always has more dirt. I just have to keep digging.”
The server brings my order, and looks at Annabelle questioningly. She shakes her head, the gesture jerky. I hand the waiter a fifty to leave us alone, and sip my drink. It’s actually not too bad. “Are you upset because Stanton finally decided to divorce you?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But no, he hasn’t. And he won’t. That disgusting old man thinks he’s in love with me.”
“Pity. I’d love to see him throw you away like yesterday’s garbage. My wife and I could read about it together in bed and laugh.”
Her face is so red, she looks like a boiled lobster. “When I get rid of him, it will be on my terms, not his. And your stupid cunt of a wife will be gone by then.”
There is such viciousness in her tone that my hand almost jerks as I reach for the scone. “And how will that happen?” I ask casually. “I’m not divorcing her. Unlike you, my wife is quite happy as a married woman.”
“Divorce isn’t the only way to get rid of unwanted spouses. People sometimes have accidents, especially when they’re clumsy.”
Annabelle’s eyes are entirely too gleeful. My gut goes cold.
“So it was you who pushed my wife down those stairs,” I say, hoping to draw her into confirming it.
“And what if I did? Who you gonna tell?” She sneers. “I’ll just deny everything, and it’ll be he said, she said. Too bad your little mouse didn’t break her neck. That would’ve been so satisfying.”
Fucking psycho. Anger twists my lips, and it’s all I can do not to crush the scone. I’d much prefer to close my hand around her throat, but I can’t. I’m playing for something bigger and more important.
She thinks she’s so clever. It’d be funny if she weren’t morally bankrupt. It won’t be my word against hers. There are only four people who know about my wife’s accident: me and Belle, Elizabeth and the staff member who found my wife at the bottom of the stairs. I don’t consider the hospital staff, since Belle was admitted under an assumed name, thanks to Elizabeth’s quick thinking. She didn’t want me and Belle to be gossip fodder.
“People call me a genius, but clearly they’re mistaken. It’s amazing that I ever thought you were worthy of my affection,” I say. “Don’t bother scheming. If you were the only woman left in the world, I’d become a monk.”
“You say that now, but you’ll change your tune by the time I’m through.”
“No, Annabelle. It’s you who’ll be ruined by the time I’m done.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Consider it a prom
ise.” I slip a few bills under the coffee cup, enough to cover my food plus a tip. “Don’t ever come near me or mine again.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Annabelle
Most people hate Mondays, but not me. I can’t believe how exciting it is to have a job I actually look forward to. I hope I never lose this feeling.
Since I’m having lunch with Jana, I pick out a conservative ruched knee-length dress in the shade of green that brings out my eyes. If I remember correctly, green is also a good color to convey confidence, trustworthiness and all sorts of great qualities that I want Jana to associate me with.
I bump into Traci in the elevator. She’s again in a not-quite-appropriate-for-work outfit. Guess she hasn’t gotten over her crush on Gavin yet. I feel bad for her; it’s got to be twice as tough when they’re working so closely together.
Traci moves closer until we’re standing only inches apart. “Hey, how you feeling?” She peers at me.
“I’m fine.”
Her shoulders sag with relief. “Oh, good. I was so worried when you passed out. I swear I thought Elliot was going to bite my head off when he saw you like that.”
I cringe. “Sorry. He’s very protective. I’m sure he was upset with me, not you.”
She nudges me with an elbow. “Don’t ever pass out after a glass of iced tea again.”
My face heats. “I won’t.”
“Good. And your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone how much of a lightweight you are.”
I give her a small, sheepish smile.
“Other than that, how are you holding up?” Traci asks.
“What do you mean?”
“That article? About Elliot and his ex-slash-stepmom?”
My smile falters. “Oh. Well…it is what it is.” I didn’t think about my coworkers reading the article. I should have.
“Don’t worry,” Traci says. “Most people here don’t take that stuff too seriously.”
“Really?”
“Oh, sure. Look at the kind of rich and famous clients we have. Dirty gossip is par for the course.”
That relieves me somewhat. Elliot isn’t famous the way his actor brother is, but he is in the public eye. The elevator reaches our floor and we part, me heading for Jana’s office, and her for Gavin’s.