A Million Different Ways (A Horn Novel Book 1)

by Dangelico, P.

  “Thought what?” I interrupted.

  He had an appropriately apologetic look on his face. “Nothing,” he said with a slightly embarrassed smile. “Forgive me.”

  I worked furiously, hell bent on exhausting myself until my brain ceased functioning. It didn’t take much. I felt listless by late afternoon and crawled into bed earlier than usual. Reading was out of the question; I couldn’t concentrate. I tried sleeping but after tossing and turning for hours, I finally gave up and stared at the shadows the moon cast on the ceiling as if they held the answers to all my problems. By eleven, I had made a decision and worked up enough courage to do something about it.

  Hoping to find her still awake, I went to Mrs. Arnaud’s bedroom and knocked quietly. It was not a relief to hear the shuffle of footsteps on the other side. Vibrating with nervous energy, I unconsciously wiped my sweaty hand on my nightgown and left a trail of blue across my chest; the outline of the speech I had written on my palm. Then the door cracked open and Mr. Bentifourt stepped out, wearing pajamas. There was no backing out now.

  “I’m…sorry. I must have the wrong room,” I apologized, looking around awkwardly. He examined me as if I was the strange part of this picture.

  His lips pinched. “No. You don’t.”

  “Who’s at the door, Olivier?”

  He turned his bristly, white head towards the jovial voice. “It’s Vera.” The way he said my name made me acutely aware that I may have interrupted something.

  “Well, let her in, chérie,” she said as she opened the door wider. Pushing him out of the way, she greeted me with a warm smile. I shifted from foot to foot self-consciously.

  “Mrs. Arnaud, umm, may we speak privately?”

  “Of course, let’s go to the kitchen.” She turned her attention to the man in the room. “Olivier, you can watch your show. I need to speak to Vera.”

  I bit my lip, fighting a smile, when I heard him whisper in French, “Hurry up.”

  She wrapped a motherly arm around my slim shoulders and together we made our way to the kitchen. We both chose to remain quiet. Once there, she went directly to the stove.

  “I’ll make some tea,” she announced.

  I sat at the oak table and fought for courage to begin, words deserting me when I needed them most. Consumed by shame, I fidgeted with my nightgown, twisting the fabric until I heard a rip. She placed a cup in front of me and poured hot water from the kettle. Her soft eyes searched my face as she took the seat at my elbow.

  “It’s chamomile, drink all of it,” she ordered gently. I took a sip and looked into her patient eyes.

  “I have something to tell you that I am deeply ashamed about…I don’t know where to begin.”

  She took my hand in hers and rubbed it. “Do you love him?” Her voice was sweet and comforting. Well that did it––the dam broke. Tears gushed out of my eyes. My jaw trembled with the strain of fighting the emotion from exploding out of me.

  “You know?”

  “Chérie, nothing goes on under my roof that I don’t know about.”

  “And the others?”

  She shook her head. “Just Olivier.”

  An avalanche of words rolled out of me. “I’m so sorry. I am so sorry. You have been nothing but kind to me and I betrayed you. I never meant to lie, but the situation is so complicated and unexpected…and…”

  “Vera…Vera, stop. Listen to me, there is nothing for you to be sorry about. I’m not sorry that Sebastian is himself again. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. I’m not sorry that he stopped taking those damn pills, or that he stopped getting drunk…I’m definitely not sorry that he stopped sleeping with that viper.” My eyes grew even wider. She knew about Paisley––of course. “And I’m definitely not sorry that he finally has someone that really cares for him. Not the money or the social status.” Aching sobs bullied their way up my throat. “Don’t worry about the picture. He loves you. I’m certain of it,” she continued.

  “You’re so good to me and I…”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “Yes, but…my past. I wish I could explain…I don’t want to hurt him with it.”

  “The only way you can hurt him is if you leave him. I’m reluctant to say this but––it may just be worse than when his wife died.” There wasn’t the smallest evidence of exaggeration in her expression. She believed it.

  “He wants us to go public and I’m petrified of what that may do to him, to the bank.”

  “Tell him everything. He’ll fix it.”

  I shook my head vigorously. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t? Vera, listen to me, one virtue that Sebastian lacks is forgiveness. If you deceive him in any way, he may never forgive you. His mother made sure of that. She taught him too many painful lessons about women being lying manipulators.”

  The conviction in her words made me pause. Food for thought. There was so much to consider my head felt like it was going to explode.

  “I don’t know how I could ever repay your kindness. I don’t know where I would be without all your help.” She smiled tenderly before wrapping me in her soft arms, her comfort and encouragement seeping into my bones.

  “Make him happy. Make yourself happy. That’s how you can repay me.”

  * * *

  Something tickled my nose. I cracked open my eyes and was met by a dense wall of black. Overcome with exhaustion, they drifted closed again. I felt a hand brush my hair and alarm bells went off. I jerked awake.

  “Easy, it’s me.”

  I sighed in relief at the sound of that sexy, raspy voice and sat up. Feeling around, my hand collided with the immovable mass of his chest. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, close enough that I could feel his breath on my temple and cheek, as he sought my lips. His hand reached out and cupped my face.

  “What are you doing here?” I whispered in a sleepy voice.

  “I came back early.” He didn’t kiss me, just hovered his lips over mine while our breath mingled.

  “What time is it?” My hands moved of their own free will up the swells of his chest, over his shoulders, and around his neck. A shiver rocked his large frame.

  “Four thirty.”

  “Who flies at this hour?”

  “Someone who owns a jet.”

  “Oh.” My heart sank a little. Most of the time I managed to forget how truly wealthy he was.

  “Why is your phone turned off?” Even though I could scarcely make out the outline of his features, I knew him too well to be deceived by the bland tone in his voice. He was annoyed.

  “Because I was mad at you, that’s why.”

  “Mad?” He chuckled. “At what?”

  “Isabelle showed everyone the tabloids yesterday. There’s a very nice picture of you with that Ethiopian model. Everyone thought you made a very striking couple.” I sounded petulant, even to myself.

  “You know that’s strictly publicity. She’s eighteen years old for fuck’s sake.”

  “So?”

  “So, I was discussing the futures markets with a colleague and she asked me the name of the psychic I use,” he explained.

  I bit my lip trying to suppress a bubble of laughter. “She’s young.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “She should probably get an education,” I added.

  “Probably.”

  “I love you.”

  “I missed you,” he murmured tenderly, the words smothered by his kiss.

  His hands were all over me, as if he suddenly had more than two. I fumbled with his belt, his zipper, while he ripped the covers back and pushed me down on the bed. It was unbelievably erotic, not being able to see anything, having to feel our way. All my other senses heightened to HD quality in the absence of sight. I could literally smell the pheromones pouring out of him. My skin was so hypersensitive feeling his breath on it sent sharp electrical impulses directly to my female parts. He kicked off his pants, pulled his shirt over his head, and in his haste ripped something. I giggle
d as he clumsily tried to get his large body on my tiny twin bed. We banged knees. He swore. I laughed. And when we were finally both naked, facing each other, plastered to one another, he paused.

  “I love you so much,” he said in a voice filled with raw passion. “I don’t…I don’t ever want to be apart from you. I was counting the minutes ‘til I got home.”

  Hearing those words spoken with such conviction gave me the courage to tell him everything. He kissed me, worshipped my body, and made love to me by stealth. I cried the whole time––don’t know why. I guess it felt different, like we were about to take a giant step into the unknown. He wiped the silent tears from my face after coming with deep, powerful thrusts.

  “What’s wrong, baby? Why the tears?”

  Baby? He was going to make me cry again. Sweet man.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been hysterical lately. I don’t know why, maybe stress. I’m never this emotional.” Sweet, fortifying kisses peppered my mouth. “I have to tell you something, and I…I think I should do it now. Maybe it will be easier in the dark, without you looking at me,” I said quietly.

  “Nothing you say could ever change the way I feel about you.” The deep rumble of his voice soothed me––everything about him soothed me.

  “Let’s save that edict until after you’ve heard the story.” I took a deep breath and began. “My father killed himself six and half years ago. I’m the one that found him. He hung himself in his office at the University of Tirana, with a lamp extension cord.”

  “Jeeeezuz, I’m sorry, baby.” He stroked my face reassuringly, encouraging me to continue.

  “My father was the dean of the university for many years. He was very well respected for most of them…until the scandal.”

  A vision of my father stole through my mind; his lean form behind the simple, steel desk in his office, the glasses slipping down his nose, the grey streaks at his temple highlighting his high cheekbones. God, I missed him.

  Sebastian didn’t stir so I continued. “Someone tipped the minister of finance that funds being issued to the university were being redirected.”

  “Embezzled?”

  “Yes. The only person capable of that was my father. He had access to the money and was responsible for allocating the funds to the various departments. A trial date was set but he killed himself shortly before it began.”

  There was a weighty moment of silence before he spoke. “I’m really sorry about your father but––”

  “There’s more…the money was wired to an offshore account in my name.” Silence, not even an intake of breath. I rushed through the rest of the story, anxious to rip the scab off quickly. “I fled before they could investigate me. I had already applied and received a student visa from Italy. I had planned on getting my medical degree there for a long time. But things where escalating quickly and I couldn’t risk a trial so I fled…in the middle of the night…like a thief.” My heart was pounding viciously. He must’ve heard it because he placed his large, warm hand on my chest and rubbed gently. “I can’t risk you getting caught up in this mess. You’re too high profile, too important to the bank. That’s why we can’t let anybody know we’re together. It could hurt you in a million different ways.”

  “How much money?”

  “Almost three million U.S. dollars.” I held my breath and waited for his verdict.

  “Thank you for telling me,” he murmured, stroking my hair back.

  “That’s all you have to say? After everything I just told you.”

  “I knew already. But I wanted to hear it from you.”

  I sprang up so quickly the bed bounced. “What??!”

  He pulled me back down and nestled me in his arms. “You’ll wake the house.”

  “What…I…how long have you known??” I asked in fits and starts.

  “It took a while to get all the details…about three days after I found you crawling around my floor.”

  “Three days?” I was repeating everything like an idiot again. If I could have melted into a puddle of humiliation, shock, and relief, I would have. Apparently I had grossly overestimated my ability to keep a secret. First, Mrs. Arnaud. Now this. Clearly, I wasn’t cut out for a life of crime. “You’ve known all this time?”

  “Yes. I run a full background check on anyone I’m involved with. I have to––I have to protect the bank.”

  Involved with? Three days after meeting me?

  “Aren’t you going to ask me if I know where the money is? If I was involved?”

  “I don’t have to. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Why are you so certain?”

  “Because I know you.”

  “I didn’t. Thank you for that.” I took a deep breath and something warm and peaceful spread through me. “I feel better now that I’ve told you. However it doesn’t change the fact that we can’t be seen in public. It won’t be responsible for hurting a hair on your head,” I said, yawning. “So tired…” My eyes drifted closed. I felt the brush of his fingers on my cheek.

  “Sleep, baby. We’ll figure it out together,” I heard him murmur, before I slipped into a dreamless void.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The next day, I floated around like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders. I hadn’t even noticed how much anxiety I was carrying around until it was gone. I slept like the dead, didn’t even stir when he left to return to his bedroom.

  It was my day off and I had to be in Geneva for my doctor’s appointment by noon. It was unusually humid for July. I dressed in a simple white silk shell, a navy linen pencil skirt, and a great pair of silver thong sandals I had found on sale in Italy. Sebastian insisted that Bear drive us in. He would get dropped off at the office and I would go on to my appointment. I didn’t have the energy to argue. I didn’t have much energy, period. It felt like I was coming down with something. It was a good time for a doctor’s visit.

  There was an awkward moment when François pulled the Mercedes GL out front. He held the car door open as I stepped inside and sat beside Sebastian. I blushed, of course. Sebastian slipped his hand between my clenched knees, inside my thigh, and left it there. Then he leaned closer and placed a kiss on my neck, marking his territory like a junkyard dog. He was gloating a little too much if you asked me, but I wasn’t going to be a shrew about it.

  Isabelle came running out to tell him that his mother had been trying to get a hold of him––he hadn’t been returning her calls it seems––and witnessed the scene. She glared at me, wearing an expression that could only be described as a cross between Elmer Fudd and the Tasmanian devil. When I tried to put a respectable distance between us, Sebastian only pulled me closer. A shade of smugness remained on his features, even after I raised an eyebrow at him. That aura of invincibility had increased tenfold lately. Like neglected, tarnished silver, all he needed was some tender, loving care to bring back the sparkle.

  My gaze swung out the window, the landscape passing before my eyes as random streaks of color. As much as I wanted to marinate in the groovy feelings that had developed between us overnight, the pragmatist in me still clung to doubt and concern. My past, his past, our present, our future––it was still all so unsettled. I did my best not to overanalyze it into ashes. Who knew what the future held…but what I did know was that I wasn’t going to let it keep me from enjoying the present.

  His phone rang. Scowling at the screen, he answered and jumped right into rapid-fire trade talk. “Hi…how big a position do we have? The exact figure…and he wants how much more? …That would push us over a billion––remind him his last name isn’t fucking Soros. Yeah, in exactly those words…”

  I loved watching him when he spoke of margin calls, futures, QE’s, what the Fed was doing. He was lit from within, a predatory glint sparking in his intelligent eyes. It was an incredibly sexy contrast; his voice full of authority and power while his splayed fingers gripped my thigh and his thumb idly stroked my knee with tenderness.

&n
bsp; “If they want to go through every account with a fine tooth comb then we are going to let them. Is that clear? I’m not getting into a pissing contest with the Department of Justice just to make a point…the clients will be fine about it. I don’t want anybody sandbagging this shit. Listen, I’m here––downstairs.” He caught my absorbed expression and graced me with one of his platinum smiles.

  “I’ll say hello to her for you. Yes, we’ll go out to dinner soon. Only if you promise not to scare her with any of your stories…okay, tell Tim not to do a fucking thing ‘til I speak to him.” He dropped the phone in his jacket pocket and turned to me as Bear pulled the truck in front of the elegant marble building and parked.

  “I’m sorry I was lousy company on the ride over.” He leaned over and kissed me, pulled away, looked at me, then kissed me again.

  “It’s fine. I like to listen when you talk about work.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” I confessed between a bubble of laughter and his kisses.

  Heavy lids lowered over smoldering amber eyes, his voice a seductive purr. “Then I’ll seduce you with talk of the VIX and double dip recessions later.”

  “Can I ask you something?” I whispered, aware that Bear could hear everything.

  “Anything.” He wrapped a lock of my hair around his finger. “You know that.”

  “Have you and Shay…”

  “No––never,” he stated firmly. Studying my reaction, surprise and uncertainty flickered in his eyes. “You don’t believe me?”

  “It’s just that…in your office…” my voice dropped lower, “she called you long horn.”

  His expression went totally blank, unreadable. He blinked twice. Then an explosion of laughter so loud burst out of him that both Bear and I jumped in our seats.

  “Sebastian?”

  I let it go on for a while but his fit of laughter didn’t seem to be diminishing. He waved a hand, his shoulders still shaking. Then he grabbed my face and kissed me hard and fast.

  “Texas Longhorn. It’s a steer,” he struggled to explain, in between deep, jagged breaths. I stared in confusion. She called him a steer? “It’s a type of cow. It’s also the University of Texas’ mascot. Where I got my undergrad degree…I call her Buckeye. She went to Ohio State University.”