Dead Weight

by Kat Faitour

  Margaux stood her ground. But when Julian reached her, he grabbed her by both arms, lifting her clean off the ground.

  “Julian,” she gasped. “Put me down.”

  “I’m sick of you.” He shook her until her teeth snapped shut. “This has nothing to do with you,” he mimicked. “You’re so pretentious and arrogant, Margaux. And I am sick to death of you.” He punctuated each word with more shaking until he finished by throwing her across the room, away from him.

  Margaux fell heavily, her hip knocking against the edge of the counter on the way down. When Julian leaned down as if to pick her up again, she scrabbled away, crawling like a crab to avoid his grasp. Broken glass cut her palms and bare feet. But she felt nothing, just shock and disbelief that Julian, her friend and assistant, was actually assaulting her.

  He caught up with her, hooking his hands under her armpits and hoisting her upright. “Now you listen to me.” He slapped her cheek lightly, making sure he had her full attention. “You’ll sell those diamonds. That money is the least you owe me.”

  Margaux’s breath shuddered in and out. She was trapped in a nightmare. Because this could not be happening. This was not the man she knew.

  He slapped her other cheek in the same way he had the first. “Do you hear me?”

  She kept her face turned away. An odd chemical smell reached into her consciousness, helping her focus. “I owe you nothing.”

  His backhand caught her in the mouth, splitting her lip. Immediately, she tasted blood as her head lolled on her neck, like a rag doll. And just as quickly, she caught the sharp scent of antiseptic.

  And the truth hit her like a fist.

  “My God,” she breathed. “It was you.”

  Julian froze, saying nothing as his grip loosened.

  “It’s your cologne.” She laughed, the sound high-pitched and tinged with hysteria. “I never connected it until now.” She swiped the back of her hand over her mouth, wiping away the blood.

  “Why?” she asked, numbness taking over.

  “Why?” he asked. “Because you never noticed me. Never acknowledged me in any real way. I did everything for you. And you treated me like a eunuch.”

  “So you tried to mug me? Steal the diamonds?” He’d gone mad. None of what he said made sense.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “To take something back from you. You drained me, exhausted me.” He laughed, a dark and desperate sound. “And even I could see that the mines were nearing depletion. I wanted money. A future. You owed me,” he repeated.

  “If you hated me, Julian, then why did you stay?” she cried. Tears ran down Margaux’s face, unchecked. “Why didn’t you leave?”

  He reached out, thumbing her tears away. Margaux flinched, the sound of glass crunching beneath her feet.

  “Because I don’t hate you, Margaux. I love you. I have always loved you.” His voice was calm now, utterly changed.

  He was unwell. Ill. And she’d completely missed the signs.

  Margaux stood there, shaking like a leaf, as Julian seemed to come back to himself. With a long, horrified stare, he took in the carnage then abruptly fled her apartment. Her front door banged shut behind him, but rather than call the police, she slid to the floor, huddled into a ball, and cried her heart out.

  She rose an hour later and picked her way across the floor, limping on her lacerated feet. And when she looked down, she could no longer tell the difference between what was wine and what was blood.

  * * *

  The setting was the same, as were all the people involved. But this morning’s gathering of the Orphans lacked the light-hearted banter of the one that took place months before.

  Mason rested his chin on his steepled fingers. Unable to muster any appreciable concern, he looked at the group and asked, “Are we ready?” His voice was flat and disinterested.

  Ruby shifted in her seat, eyeing him more closely.

  “Yes.” Noor seemed unfazed by Mason’s apathy. “All the stones passed certification before you replaced them. Some carefully placed bribes have ensured no one is asking too many questions, or asking to see the stones before the auction.”

  “Good.” Mason approved this with a short nod. “What’s the timeline?”

  “The auction will take place in two days.”

  Mason braced his elbows on the oak table. “Any chance it can be sooner?”

  Noor tilted her head, eyeing him with a frank curiosity. “Well, no.” She drew the word out. She screwed up her face. “Does it need to be?”

  Mason tipped his head back and looked at the beamed ceiling overhead. “I guess not. No.” He closed his eyes, thinking. He was so tired. But once the job was over, he could move on with the impossible task of putting himself back together.

  “All right then.” He braced his palms on the table and pushed himself upright. “Let’s finish this.”

  “Not so fast, everyone.” Ruby raised her hand, bringing Mason to a halt. Slowly, he sat back down.

  “What?”

  “What about the largest stone? The one you couldn’t replace.”

  He shook his head. Hadn’t they covered this already?

  “It goes to auction. I’m sorry, but it couldn’t be helped.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, sullen. “I don’t accept that.”

  During the meeting, Cullen had steadily worked his way through an entire bowl of salted almonds. He stopped chewing and looked at Ruby, his face inquisitive. “What do you mean?” He shrugged. “None of us like it, but we have to accept it. We couldn’t switch the stone. Not without being caught outright.”

  She pressed her lips together. “You know, after I went to the lab, I was reasonably sure you’d find a way around putting a diamond worth upwards of a quarter million dollars into the market. Clearly, I was wrong.”

  Mason dropped his head into his hands. “Ruby, we have done the best we could in an impossible situation. What is it you’d have us do?”

  “Steal it,” she retorted. “It was the original plan, after all. Now there’s just one stone. It should be easy.”

  Mason’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Are you out of your mind? That stone is getting more attention than any other this year, so far. How exactly do you think its sudden disappearance would be easy?”

  “Leave it to me.”

  “No,” he barked. Like smoke, Mason’s apathy drifted away, leaving him as a seething mess of emotions. He needed to be alone. Now. “As usual, you’re being irrational,” he accused. “Your obsession with one stone could cost us everything.” He smacked the table with the flat of his hand. “The risks are too high. And for something that means too little.”

  As soon as the words were out, Mason knew he’d gone too far. A hush fell over the room. Everyone knew he wasn’t talking about the diamond in the Taylor lot anymore. He meant The Thornblood. The stone that had cost Ruby’s parents their lives. Then disappeared, as if it never existed.

  Ruby shoved away from the table. “Then I guess there’s nothing left to say. I’ll visit Buck before I go.” She seemed muted, like someone had extinguished the fire that normally lit her from within. Before anyone could stop her, she slipped away.

  The room seemed to exhale.

  “Well, that was just great,” Cullen bitched. “I’m going after her.”

  As quickly as his feelings had returned, they left again, leaving Mason hollowed out and empty. With dull eyes, he looked at Cullen’s churlish face. “Do that. And make sure she doesn’t hurt herself on Buck.”

  Ruby was the only person the temperamental stallion had ever allowed on his back. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t change his mind.

  The others rose and gathered to leave, but Clara remained sitting. “Mason, may I have a minute?”

  “Of course.” He slumped in his chair. He really wanted—needed—to be alone. But when Clara asked for something, he wouldn’t deny her. She’d always been there for him.

  “I think we should pull the plug on the idea of a leak.”


  He jerked his head back. “What?”

  “Mason,” she crooned. “Do you think I don’t see what this is costing you? What it’s already cost?” Her voice was gentle, a balm to his troubled soul. “We don’t have to leak the switch.”

  “Then Taylor Corporation gets away with it.”

  Her shoulders lifted then fell again. “It’s a war. We can afford to lose one battle, Mason.” She tilted her head, examining him. “There is always a way. And while we may not see justice today, that doesn’t mean we won’t tomorrow. Be patient. And be gentle with yourself.”

  “What do you mean? I completely messed up.”

  A tentative smile curved her lips. “That remains to be seen.” She stood and crossed the room to his side. She took his hand, grasping it between both of hers. It was exactly what she’d done all those years ago when she’d told him about his father’s death.

  And, exactly as it had then, the simple gesture soothed him in ways he didn’t even realize he needed.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she said. “After the auction, this will be over. There won’t be any leaks, not now and not in the future.” Her voice was still soft, but she clearly meant her statements as an edict.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. A thousand diamonds aren’t worth the people we love, Mason.”

  He nodded, relieved beyond words. It didn’t change the fact he’d lost Margaux. But maybe, possibly someday, he would forgive himself.

  * * *

  Mason had barely settled onto the couch after everyone had left when Thomas rushed into the room.

  He sat up. “What is it?”

  The older man was breathless and flushed. “It’s Margaux. Come with me.” He hurried away, not waiting to see if Mason followed.

  There was no need, as he was hot on the other man’s heels. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. He’d never seen Thomas less than composed.

  They went to the kitchen, where the first thing Mason noticed was Margaux turned sideways in one of the chairs at the long wooden table. She was hunched over, with her head cradled in her hands.

  The second thing to register was the blood.

  She was covered in it, literally from head to toe. Mason scrambled to kneel in front of her. His hands hovered over her bowed head, unsure where or if he should touch her.

  “Margaux,” he rasped. “Margaux, look at me.”

  She raised her head. Tears streaked her face, cutting through the smears of blood she’d transferred there. A bruise was beginning to darken one cheek. And her lip was swollen, a scab beginning to form.

  “I was wrong. So wrong,” she sobbed. “And I’m so sorry.”

  Thomas appeared with a warm, wet cloth. Mason smoothed it over Margaux’s face, his gaze intent. He couldn’t be sure where all the blood was coming from.

  “Who did this, sweetheart?” He kept his voice pitched low, when all he wanted was to rage and bellow at the bastard who could have done this. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  She grabbed hold of his wrist, stopping his strokes with the cloth. “It was Julian. Julian,” she cried, her voice wretched. “It was him, Mason. He was the one who mugged me in Johannesburg.” Her hands, wrapped around his, were shaking so hard that Mason trembled from the force.

  “And I’m pretty sure he must have killed Andrew.”

  Mason stilled. This news was unexpected but also made a strange kind of sense. “Is he the one that did this?” An angry knot took up residence in his gut.

  “He admitted it.” She’d stopped crying, and Mason strained to hear her. “At least the part about the attempted robbery. He said he deserved it. That I owed him.”

  She looked up, her eyes like wide pools of pain. Her pupils were so large they nearly obliterated the green.

  Mason raised his head to find Thomas hovering nearby. “We need to get her to the hospital.”

  “No,” Margaux wailed. She clutched him harder, her nails digging into the skin on the backs of his hands.

  “Shh,” he murmured. “You’re hurt and suffering from shock. You need to see a doctor.”

  “Please don’t make me leave,” she pleaded, her chin dropping to her chest.

  Her desperate plea twisted Mason’s heart. Anguished, he unsuccessfully tried to pull his hands free so he could tip up her chin.

  Thomas cleared his throat. Mason raised his brows, questioningly.

  “I could call a doctor to come here,” he whispered.

  But Margaux heard. “Yes, please. Please don’t make me leave,” she repeated.

  Mason nodded, giving Thomas the go ahead. “All right. But let’s get you upstairs until he arrives.” He lifted her in his arms, where she clung to him with surprising strength. On his way out of the room, he stopped near Thomas.

  “Once he’s on the way, come upstairs, please.” Mason needed the other man’s presence to keep him from tumbling into a vindictive rage. He wanted to go after Julian, make him pay for what he’d done. But for now, Margaux needed him more. And he needed to be with her. “Bring a sedative,” he added.

  The next hour or so was a blur as the doctor arrived and examined Margaux. By the time he left, she was bandaged and drowsy from the mild sedative Thomas had given her.

  Mason tucked the blanket under her chin. Unable to resist, he dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead.

  “Don’t leave,” she slurred. “I need you.”

  The words pierced his heart. How could he have thought he could let her go? She was precious to him. A rare gift when he’d all but given up on love.

  And he’d screwed up every step of the way, quite literally from the moment he’d met her.

  He gingerly propped himself on the edge of the bed, careful to keep some distance between them. He’d stay until she fell asleep.

  “I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?” she whispered.

  A lump gathered in Mason’s throat. “There’s nothing to forgive.” The sight of her lying in one of his beds caused him more pain than he expected. He squeezed his eyes shut. He had no right to this. He didn’t deserve her. “We both said things we shouldn’t have. Things we didn’t mean.”

  She reached out and gripped his hand. “Do you mean that?”

  He patted her arm. “Of course.” The bruise on her cheek was dark and livid now. He swallowed. “And I’m sorry too. More than I can say.”

  Her lids were growing heavy, and she blinked, trying to stay awake. “Then you’ll give me another chance? I can stay?” Her voice dropped low, and the words were nearly indistinguishable.

  He shook his head. But Margaux was already asleep, her breathing deep and steady. Mason stood, looking down at her.

  No matter how much either of them wanted it, they could never be together. He’d had no business indulging in his attraction to her in the first place. And now he loved her. He was certain she loved him too. Or at least the man she thought she knew.

  The obstacles were too great. They were like a Shakespearean tragedy. A Capulet and a Montague, pitched on opposite sides.

  And no matter how deep their feelings, they were fated to fail. With crystal clarity, he saw it could never have been any other way.

  A memory bubbled to the surface. His mother, preparing to leave South Africa without him, after his father’s accident. Mason had cried and ranted, trying everything to convince her to stay. Finally, he’d said it would be better without his father, with only the two of them. He’d said he knew she was miserable in the marriage. Unloved and lonely. Intimidated by his father’s moods.

  She’d shaken her head, her eyes brimming with an infinite sadness.

  Sometimes, love just wasn’t enough.

  Chapter 10

  Margaux woke up in the bedroom Mason had given her when she originally came to stay with him. It was her first time sleeping in the bed.

  She stretched, but the cuts and bruises she’d sustained protested, causing her to gasp in pain. Blinking, she tried to clear the sleep-induced haze
from her brain.

  What time was it?

  She reached for her iPhone on the bedside table. But it wasn’t there. Nor was there a clock, and although she hadn’t spent a lot of time in this room, she could have sworn there had been.

  Gingerly, she sat up on the side of the bed and put her bandaged feet on the soft carpeting. They hurt, but not as badly as they may have if Mason hadn’t called a doctor to treat the cuts. She stood, testing whether she could walk.

  Yes, if done slowly. She hobbled to the windows, where all the blinds had been pulled shut. With a flick of her wrist, she tilted the slats.

  Sunlight flooded through the window, blinding her. She stumbled back, holding her hand up to block the brightness. After a few moments, her eyes adjusted, and she could see the gardens outside.

  From where the sun sat in the sky, she could guess it was early afternoon. She must have slept a full ten or more hours. It was hard to say, as the entire evening of Julian’s attack was a blur. And she could barely remember anything after arriving here. Just Mason kneeling at her feet, soothing her like he would one of his rescues.

  And then carrying her to her room. Waiting with her until the doctor arrived.

  After that, things retreated to a blur.

  Margaux crossed to the closet and slipped on a robe. Opening the door to her suite, she stepped out into the hall.

  “Hello? Mason?” she called.

  She heard a distant thump and rapid footsteps coming from the direction of Mason’s rooms. Smiling, she took a few tentative steps forward, but it was Thomas who appeared from around the corner.

  He hurried to her side, clucking like a mother hen.

  “You shouldn’t be up and around, Margaux. Not with your feet the way they are.”

  She allowed him to loop her arm over his shoulders. He anchored her hand by taking it in his.

  “Let’s get you back to your bed.”

  Ignoring the sharp protest from her feet, she dug her heels into the carpet runner and refused to budge. “I’d really rather not, Thomas. After sleeping for half a day, I’m feeling a little stir crazy.”

  He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Miss, you slept round the clock.”