Inferno [Part 4]

by T. K. Leigh

  “The pain and hurt I saw…” Her chin quivered, her eyes filling with tears. “It wrecked me, but I still refused to tell him the truth. That my hand was forced, that I would do anything to take it back. I feared what would happen to you if I did,” she said to me. “So I remained quiet. But I think he knew something was off.”

  “How?”

  “I asked her if she wanted to see you,” Dad answered.

  “I didn’t know what to say at first, so he told me he’d be at the zoo the following day…with just you. I lay awake the entire night, unsure what to do, unsure whether I would be strong enough to lose you all over again.” Her lips curved into a smile. “But when he rounded the corner and I saw him pushing you in your stroller…” Her shoulders relaxed as she clasped my hand in hers. “I finally felt full, and I knew no matter what pain I would be forced to endure, it would be worth it just to have you back in my life. And over the next several years, you were. Whenever Marjorie was out of the house, Francis would let me know and I’d drop everything to come spend time with you. He’d send your nanny home and I’d be able to sing you to sleep.”

  “If you were such a big part of my life early on, what happened?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, she pulled away from me. “Lucas Merriweather happened. To be honest, I was surprised it took him as long as it did to figure out what was going on.” She shook her head, swallowing hard. “Marjorie was visiting family out west, so I came to take you to a park down the street while your father was in session. It was April, one of the first nice spring days, and we spent hours there just enjoying the weather, playing on the swings, chasing butterflies.”

  She ran her hand over her face, and when she looked at me again, I could see the dark circles under her eyes from living with the guilt and remorse for all these years. “We were playing hide-and-seek. You were giggling one minute. The next, you started screaming for me.” She looked into the distance, recalling that day…the day from my nightmares. “I tried to get to you, but I couldn’t. I was hauled into the back of a dark SUV.” She shook her head. “It took me a minute to figure out what was going on, but when I looked next to me and saw Merriweather sitting there, I knew it was all over.

  “He threatened to not only make sure I was charged with abduction of a child, but also murder. When I said I didn’t kill anyone, he just gave me a knowing look. I knew what he was referring to.” She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Then he handed me an envelope containing a substantial amount of cash and a completely new identity, with sufficient educational background to get me into the law school of my choice. When I asked why, he told me so Francis wouldn’t be able to find me. It killed me to walk away, but I didn’t see any other option. He said as long as I no longer had contact with you and made sure no one ever found out the truth of what really happened, no harm would come to you or Francis…or me. So I left for Chicago.”

  “When I got out of session that afternoon, I expected to walk in and see Lauren playing with you,” my father said.

  She took a sharp inhale of air, flinging her eyes to my father’s. “It’s so good to hear you call me by my real name again.”

  His lips curved and he squeezed her hand. “It feels so good to finally say it again.” They shared a look, then he turned back to me. “I tore through the house, trying to figure out what was going on, where Lauren was, where you were. When I saw Merriweather sitting behind my desk in my office, my heart sank. He laid everything out for me. He said Marjorie would be returning to California permanently with ‘our’ daughter. When I started to remind him you weren’t Marjorie’s daughter, he reminded me I never would have gotten elected if he hadn’t worked as my campaign manager, if he hadn’t forged relationships with huge donors, who essentially made sure I’d been elected. Then he dropped a bomb on me I never expected.”

  “What’s that?”

  He blew out a small breath. “He told me he’d bribed officials in various voting districts to ‘forget’ to count certain ballots. That he’d made sure my fingerprints were all over the crime, not his. And he held that over my head for years, decades. Part of me wanted to tell him I didn’t care, but I had you to worry about,” he said with a sympathetic look.

  I remained quiet, absorbing their story. It would take me some time to fully understand the depths Lucas Merriweather would go to in order to retain power and influence over everything. “When did you see each other again?” I asked.

  “Not for quite some time,” Lauren answered. “I finished law school at DePaul and eventually began working as in-house counsel for a new pharmaceutical company. This was about nineteen years ago. I was dating a man named Brian. It wasn’t anything too serious, but I ended up getting pregnant, the result of a drunken night of sex and both of us being too uncoordinated to want to mess around with a condom. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise. We got married and had two beautiful daughters together. And the pharmaceutical company was flexible enough to allow me to work from home most of the week. As the company grew, it decided to relocate its home office to California. So we moved out here. I almost wondered if it was fate’s way of saying it wasn’t over yet.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at her words. “But you got divorced, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. “I loved Brian. I still do. But I was never in love with him. There’s such a huge difference. My entire being never lit up when he touched me. I never sensed his presence the instant he walked into a room. Not like with Francis. So, about eight years ago, we both came to the mutual decision to get divorced before we did any damage to our relationship. We’ve remained close friends throughout the years. And I think our daughters are better off because of it.”

  “When did you two reconnect?”

  “About seven years ago, I had agreed to meet a friend from Chicago for a drink at her hotel while she was in town. To my surprise, your father was at the same hotel giving a speech at a fundraiser.”

  “I remember feeling a sort of electricity in the air as I entered the lobby,” Dad interjected. “I looked around, dumbfounded when I saw a mature version of Lauren sitting at the bar. Merriweather was my campaign manager, so he was with me. I made some excuse about needing to make a phone call. Luckily, he bought it. I excused myself and headed toward the bar to see if it really was her.”

  “I didn’t know what to do,” Lauren added. “I knew I should get up and leave, but I was frozen. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when he approached me, then leaned toward me, grabbing my hand.” She looked at him, a brilliant smile building on her lips.

  “The instant I felt her skin on mine, I promised never to let her go again, regardless of anything Merriweather threatened me with. So I asked her to meet me at a dive bar in Santa Monica later that night. I told her I never stopped loving her.” He met her eyes. “And I still haven’t, my sparrow.”

  Sighing, she leaned over, placing a soft kiss on his lips before pulling back and facing me once more. I couldn’t help but smile at their beautiful exchange. “As much I knew I shouldn’t go, some outside force led me to Santa Monica that evening. My divorce had been finalized for a few months, but I knew Francis was still married. Regardless, I was more than aware of the fact that it was a marriage in name only. When I got to the bar, he wasn’t there yet, so I waited. I can’t even tell you how many times I almost got up and left. When he walked in, it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. I instantly remembered why I fell for him all those years ago. And the passing of time didn’t change that…for me or for him.”

  “We tried to keep our affair secret. I was planning on leaving Marjorie, but I needed to make sure there would be no backlash. When Lauren came to me and told me she was being blackmailed, I knew Merriweather must have figured it out, that this was his way of making her pay for getting involved with me again. All along, I was convinced it was just Merriweather and possibly Brock. I never would have thought Marjorie was working with them.”

  “I was so wo
rried about something happening to Francis or you or anyone else I was close to.” Lauren met my eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I followed Merriweather’s demands. Until Dante started calling around and I caught wind of it. Then I heard what happened to his daughter. I couldn’t stomach the thought that I could have prevented it, so I decided it was time to come clean. But Merriweather must have had eyes and ears everywhere because he knew.”

  “I had one of the investigators at my law firm look into this,” I interjected in a quiet voice. “I found video of you on the day you faked your death. You were looking at something or someone off camera. The terror on your face…” I swallowed hard. “Was it…?” I lifted a brow.

  She nodded. “Merriweather. For weeks, your father had encouraged me to hide, to disappear. I didn’t want to bow down to pressure, to this man who thought he was untouchable. But he sent me a sign that he was serious about the threats he made to me all those years ago.”

  “The car accident and all that stuff?” I asked.

  She slowly shook her head. “No. When I got back to my office that afternoon, there was a package waiting for me. I opened it and my heart sank.”

  “What was it?”

  She licked her lips, peering at me through remorse-filled eyes. “A photo of you in a hospital bed.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Nothing ever happened to me. Apart from these last few days, the only other time I’ve been to the hospital in the last few years is when I came down with the flu and fainted at…” I trailed off, realization hitting me.

  She swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “Under the photo was a revolver, filled with five hollow-point bullets, along with a suicide note with my signature on it.”

  I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand.

  “Lucas always had an uncanny ability to get other people to do his dirty work for him,” my father explained. “His hands have always been remarkably clean.”

  “It was a message. I knew about the contamination. I found out over-the-counter cold medicine had been among some of the drugs contaminated. This was his way of saying if I wanted you to get better, I needed to put that revolver and note to use.”

  “So that’s what we let them believe,” my dad said.

  “I hated the idea of disappearing, of hurting my kids and Brian, but it was the only way. We both knew Merriweather was behind all of this, but we had no way of proving it.”

  “Until we could, Lauren needed to stay in hiding to keep you safe.”

  “Your father…” She looked at me, then at him. “He’s the only reason I’m alive right now. I was moments away from doing what Merriweather wanted so you’d be okay. Your father put his life on the line for me, for us. Despite everything you want to believe, despite everything Marjorie tricked you into believing, he’s a very good man and he’s always loved you so very much.”

  I nodded, trying not to weigh myself down with twenty-eight years of regrets.

  “I always hoped to be able to reunite you two one day,” Dad said. “That we’d finally be a family.”

  “Like in the story you told me.” I reached across the bed, grabbing his free hand in mine. The look of peace on his face as he held both our hands was unlike any expression I’d ever seen.

  “I told you, Ellie. Fairy tales can come true.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “MMM,” A DEEP BARITONE moaned as a strong arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me back into a hard, muscular body. “That smells delicious.” Dante’s breath warmed the crook of my neck and I tilted my head, giving him better access. When his lips met my skin, I sighed, melting into his touch.

  “It’s just shallots,” I responded, adding chopped fennel and onion to the pan, allowing their aroma to fill the air.

  “I wasn’t talking about the shallots. I was talking about you, Eleanor.” He circled his hips against me, eliciting a moan from me.

  I quickly spun around, his devilish eyes piercing me. I smiled, the way he looked at me reminding me of the day we met. It seemed like it was just yesterday that I sat on that Boeing 777 headed across the Atlantic and a smug, arrogant Italian made a horrible attempt at flirting with me. It didn’t seem real that we were now entertaining our families for our first Christmas in our California home.

  “Remember what the doctor said,” I reminded him in a sing-song manner. I raised myself onto my toes, our mouths almost touching. “No strenuous activity just yet. He wants you taking it easy for two more weeks.” I closed my eyes, bringing my lips within a breath of his. “You don’t want to do anything to set back all the progress you’ve made, do you?” I murmured in a throaty voice. “Then you may have to wait another two weeks to engage in…strenuous activity.” My lips ghosted against his, his grip on my waist tightening. “We don't want that now, do we?”

  “We certainly do not.” He brought his mouth toward mine. I leaned back, narrowly escaping his kiss.

  “Are you trying to be a tease?” he asked in a sultry tone.

  “Maybe.”

  He hovered over me, the gap between us diminishing once more. “Haven’t you learned by now?”

  “What’s that?”

  “When I see something I want, I stop at nothing until I get it.”

  “And you want me?”

  “You bet your beautiful ass I do.” He fisted his hand in my hair and tugged me against him, his crutch falling to the floor. His mouth covered mine, stealing my breath as he kissed me like it was the first time all over again, kissed me like he worried it would be the last time. After everything we’d been through, neither one of us would ever take our kisses for granted again.

  “Hey, Ellie, we need more—”

  Dante and I quickly tore ourselves away from each other, whipping our heads toward the hallway where Mila approached with a large white platter.

  “Cocktail sauce,” she finished with a grin, setting the platter down on the island.

  “Of course.” I turned from Dante and retrieved his crutch, handing it to him. Passing him a sly smile, I headed toward the refrigerator, grabbing the ingredients I needed to make some more sauce.

  “What can I do to help?” Dante asked, watching me work.

  “You can go out into the great room and be a good host,” I answered with a smile.

  Mila smirked. “It’s kind of funny, isn’t it? He’s the chef, yet you’re the one preparing Christmas Eve dinner.”

  “I tried,” he told her. “But she’s refused to let me so much as lift a knife since I got home from the hospital.”

  “Doctor’s orders,” I reminded him, squirting ketchup into a bowl, then adding a bit of horseradish, Worcestershire sauce, and hot sauce before mixing it up.

  He’d been discharged just a few days after my real mother reappeared in my life. I’d spent the last several weeks taking care of my father and playing nurse to Dante, who constantly made jokes about a nurse-patient role-play once he was feeling better.

  “You’re still healing.”

  “I only have to use one crutch now. And don’t have to sleep with the soft cast on.”

  “But he still said you had to take it easy.”

  “I can slice an onion just fine.”

  I squeezed a lemon into the mixture, then tasted it to make sure it was right. “Well, maybe I wanted to do something for you after everything you’ve done for me.” I met his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. So let me do this. I promise. Next Christmas Eve, you can be in charge.”

  I poured the sauce into a small bowl on the platter, added a bit more shrimp, then shoved the tray into Dante’s free hand. I hoisted myself onto my toes, my mouth a whisper from his ear. “In more ways than one.” I lingered long enough to feel his muscles tense, then stepped back.

  “Now go.” I smirked, ushering him out of the kitchen, watching as he hobbled away. Despite the temporary handicap, he had no trouble balancing the tray.

  Just as he was about to disappear from view, he glanced over his shoulder and winked.
All I could do was sigh. There was nothing sexier than Dante’s wink.

  “I never thought I’d see that,” Mila’s voice cut through.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Someone kicking Dante Luciano out of his own kitchen.”

  “What can I say?” I returned my attention to the pan, shifting the aromatics around before adding some diced tomatoes. “He likes it when I take charge.”

  “I bet he does.” She nudged me, then handed me my wine, raising her glass toward me. “To a well-deserved new beginning.”

  I met her eyes, smiling a bittersweet smile. I hated the thought that this would be the last Christmas Eve I’d spend with Mila, but I couldn’t wait to finally start this next chapter with Dante.

  “To new beginnings,” I repeated, clinking my glass with hers.

  “And lots of sex and babies,” she added, always having to finish on a light and somewhat perverse note.

  “Mila, we’re not even married yet. Or engaged, for that matter.”

  “Whatever. That doesn’t matter, at least according to my latest vision.”

  “Here we go again.” I rolled my eyes, then added some fish stock to the tomato mixture, waiting for Mila to embellish on what her vision was. When she remained silent, I looked at her. “Aren’t you going to tell me about it?”

  “Why should I? You obviously don’t think they mean anything. It’s not like I envisioned you meeting Dante in the first place or anything.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “No. You wouldn’t be interested.”