Her body bowed up, pressing tightly against him as she cried out.
He could feel the contractions then, the walls of her sex fluttering against his cock in a glorious rhythm. The tension in him became unbearable, his cock hardened even further and his balls drew tight. With another shallow thrust and a gentle squeeze of her muscles, he was following her over the edge, crying out hoarsely as his cock jerked inside her. The spasms racked his body as he poured himself into her.
Collapsing on top of her, his head resting against the softness of her breasts, the harsh sound of their ragged breathing filled the room. “I’m crushing you,” he said, but made no move to lift himself from her. He couldn’t. The strength simply had left his body.
“I like it,” she replied. “But I do need my hands untied—I need to touch you,” she added. The admission made her more vulnerable than being bound.
Reaching up, he slipped the knots free and then sighed peacefully as she ran her fingers through his hair, then gently rubbed his neck and shoulders. The feel of her soft hands on his skin, of her gentle touch was almost more than he could bear.
Vincent realized that he was in dangerous territory. He needed her too much, craved her for far more than just sex. Somehow, he’d made the grave error of falling in love with his wife. Or perhaps, he’d been in love with her all along. Considering his response to her, it seemed likely.
Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close, listening the beating of her heart and praying that he wouldn’t be the man to break it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ophelia climbed from the bed, freeing herself from tangled sheets. Walking over to the chair in the corner, she retrieved the discreet package she’d purchased at the pharmacy the previous afternoon. Opening it, she scanned the instructions as she walked into the bathroom.
It wasn’t that she needed to read them, but that was simply one of her quirks. She always read and followed the instructions. Always. Which was why the prospect of an unplanned pregnancy was just alien to her. With the exception of the first night she’d slept with Vincent, she never did anything that wasn’t planned.
It only took a couple of minutes, but she found herself pacing the bathroom as she waited for the results. The very second the two minutes was up; she grabbed the test strip and stared in dawning horror at the two pink lines.
Two.
“Oh God,” she murmured, and sank down onto the edge of the tub, dropping her head onto her knees. She felt like the world had just been jerked out from beneath her feet and she was free falling.
Forcing herself to move, to do something, she tucked the test back into the box and stashed it under the counter. She was going to have to tell Vincent, but first she had to figure out how. Showering quickly, she dressed in a simple sweater set and jeans. The air was beginning to chill outside.
She had just walked into the kitchen to make herself some tea when the door bell rang. Changing directions, she pulled the door open and then stopped in her tracks. Icy dread poured over her.
Ophelia stared at the woman standing outside the door without any feeling of connection. Her mother, she thought, and she might as well have been a Jehovah’s Witness. Of course, the Jehovah’s Witnesses would have been more welcome. Even through the screen she could see that time had not been kind to Vanessa. Her hair was dry and brittle, broken and her skin was leathery.
Warily, Ophelia opened the door. Her mother was the last thing she wanted to deal with. There were more important things on her mind at the moment.“What do you want, Vanessa?” she asked without preamble.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s the least you can do since you failed to invite me to your wedding,” the other woman said, her voice hoarse and raspy.
“Since you missed every birthday, Christmas, and all of my graduations, I didn’t imagine you’d mind,” Ophelia shot back smartly. There were few people who got under her skin, but Vanessa was one of them.
“Cry me a river,” Vanessa said without any sympathy or remorse. “You always were a whiney bitch. That was the main reason I left you with Ruby!”
“Really? I thought it was because you were in prison...and rehab... and then prison again. What are you doing here, Vanessa?”
“I came for my share,” she sneered. “You’ve sure as hell got plenty to go around now.”
“I’m not giving you money. I won’t buy your drugs for you,” Ophelia snapped. It wasn’t a new conversation. They’d had the same one when she first came to work for Thomas, when Vanessa had insisted that they were more than employer and employee.
“Oh, I think you will,” Vanessa cooed, her voice oddly gleeful. She enjoyed the conflict, the drama.
Ophelia had firsthand experience with that.
Continuing, Vanessa explained, “Claude came to see me. He and I haven’t been close for years, but once upon a time—well, let’s just say you and Vincent were almost cousins.”
Closing her eyes in disgust at the image that’d been painted for her, Ophelia demanded, “Just get to the point.”
“He told me all about your marriage to Vincent. That it isn’t a real marriage, at all. You just did it because of the will. Now that the truth is out about Thomas, it makes sense. Vincent’s always been a little standoffish with the ladies,” Vanessa suggested in a leering tone.
“Are you trying in your roundabout, drug fueled stupidity to imply that my husband is gay?” Ophelia asked, incredulous.
“I’m not implying any such thing, but given that Thomas was and that he and Vincent were so close, and then Thomas goes to such lengths to see him marry a woman—a woman with ties to the family and the ability to keep her mouth shut? I just see where maybe it could make people wonder...and Vincent was so young when he came here to Thomas. I imagine a lot of people would find that very interesting.”
Disgusted, Ophelia rose to her feet, ready to show her mother to the door. “Maybe in whatever warped universe you live in that would be a problem, but the fact is people, when they don’t live under rocks, tend to be more open and accepting of those things now. They also understand that being gay doesn’t make you a pedophile! So, even if it were true that Vincent were gay, which it isn’t, it would hardly have the disastrous impact you’re imagining!”
“Well, unless one considers the conditions of the will. It has to be a real marriage, per Thomas. How do you plan to prove that?” Vanessa challenged, idly walking around the room, picking up and examining objects.
Ophelia wasn’t stupid and was fairly certain that her mother was casing the place. “So what’s your angle, Vanessa? You always have one.”
“I just thought you’d want to reward my loyalty for coming to you with this information rather than going straight to the tabloids like Claude asked. He and I do have a history, you know.”
“Yes. You mentioned it. It’s repulsive,” Ophelia retorted.
“Of course, my history isn’t nearly as interesting as your husband’s. Casting aspersions about his sexuality is nothing in comparison to what would happen to his upstanding reputation if it were to come out that he’s the son of a murderer.”
“What are you talking about?”
Vanessa smiled again, her greed evident in the gleeful gleam in her eyes. “He’s never told you? That doesn’t bode well for your budding relationship, now does it? Secrets are a terrible thing, Ophelia.”
“How would you know? Every horrible thing you’ve ever done was public enough to be utterly humiliating for both Ruby and me.”
“Not everything, baby girl...Phillip and Jeanine were not the happy couple that everyone believed them to be, you know? Oh, they played the part in public, and sometimes even in private, but there was a dark side to their little love affair! Phillip was obscenely jealous. And Jeanine was enough of a whore to warrant it. Don’t you think it’s funny that Justin looks like nothing like Vincent and Kaitlyn?”
“Get to the damned point, Vanessa and then get out!”
“Well, let’s just say
that Phillip got tired of wondering who else his wife was sleeping with—and in a violent, heated rage, he dumped the kids in the driveway and drove himself and his wife into the river. Right in front of those poor, impressionable babies. You know, tabloids pay a lot for exposés like that.”
Crossing to her purse, she pulled out her check book and quickly scrawled a check. “That is all you get from me. Take that, cash it. Imbibe the spoils in whatever manner you see fit, but be warned, if you go to the tabloids, if you do anything to create problems for me, I will report that check as stolen and have your ass back in the state penitentiary so fast it will make your head spin!”
Vanessa clucked her tongue in a scolding fashion even as she took the check. Examining it she said, “I see marrying well didn’t make you more generous. As for sending me back to prison, you and I both know that would be the death of your precious Ruby.”
“Actually, Ruby rests easier when you’re in prison. At least then, she’d know where to claim your body. Get out, and don’t bother coming back.”
Ophelia was shaking with fury when Vanessa left. She knew the check was nothing more than a stalling tactic. She would have to tell Vincent. It seemed that she was nothing but a problem for him on every front.
~~****~~
Vincent arrived home later than expected. Ophelia was already getting dressed for the party. He paused for a moment just to look at her.
She wore a curve hugging black dress. It clung to her everywhere, dipping low in the front and dipping even lower in the back. Only thin straps held the bodice of the dress in place.
It gave him many ideas, but unfortunately they didn’t have time for any of them. “You look beautiful. I have something for you. It belonged to my mother.”
Ophelia took the black velvet box that he held out to her. Her hands trembled as she accepted it. Flipping the box open, she looked at the diamond and pearl necklace that lay on a satin bed. “It’s stunning—but I can’t take this. You should give it to Kaitlyn.”
“Kaitlyn went through our mother’s jewelry years ago and took what she wanted, which was very little actually. Kaitlyn has very little connection to our parents and she liked it that way. I can remember my mother wearing that,” he said. “She wore it to a lot of the parties and balls they attended. I always thought it was pretty. I want you to have it.”
Ophelia lifted the necklace from the box and placed it around her neck. She shivered as Vincent fastened it for her, his fingers brushing over her skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. When his hands settled heavily on her shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the tight muscles at base of her neck, she groaned. “That feels incredible,” she whispered.
“If we had time, I’d like to make you feel that good everywhere—but we don’t. And I’ve learned some things today that make it very important for us to attend this party.”
Thinking of Vanessa’s threats and knowing that Claude had been behind them, Ophelia’s fear escalated. “What did you discover?”
“Claude has already burned bridges with our linen providers. He’s been substituting substandard linens in all the hotels. Enough of the quality inventory is still in rotation that it hasn’t become much of an issue yet, but it will very soon. It’s going to be very expensive to fix this. He and Marvin Tate had already been doing this; they were just trying to cover their tracks to make it legitimate. Our previous linen supplier has essentially washed their hands of us, because Claude has refused to pay them. He’s filed dozens of bogus complaints to legitimize the nonpayment, but it boils down to a con.”
“He’s playing very dirty, Vincent. He sought out Vanessa, and he told her everything about the will. She’s trying to blackmail me.” She’s made the decision to edit the extent of Vanessa’s knowledge.
His expression firmed. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
Ophelia watched him disappear into the bathroom. The weight of the secrets she held seemed unbearable. Thinking of how long he’d held onto many of those same secrets, she wondered how he’d managed to withstand it.
When he emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp from the shower and towel slung low around his waist, Ophelia wished fervently that they didn’t have to go. She wanted to stay there with him, safe in their bed. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to anticipate that the night would go badly.
They would be walking into a room that, at least in Ophelia’s mind, was full of vipers. High society snobs who would look down their nose at the housekeeper’s granddaughter marrying into the family that employed her were the least of her concerns.
Melina Tate would be there. Claude would be there. And somehow, she would have to be able to camouflage the fact that she was not drinking the champagne that would flow freely. It was a veritable landmine.
While Vincent dressed, she put the finishing touches on her makeup and added another pin to her hair for good measure. It never wanted to stay up. Before the night was half over, it would all be falling down.
When Vincent handed her the wrap that matched her dress, she knew that there was no escape. “This feels like a bad idea. I just keep imagining all the ways that things could go wrong.”
“Nothing will go wrong. I’m just going to have a conversation with Marvin Tate and then we’ll come home. I’d rather be here with you anyway.”
They went outside to the waiting limo. Vincent typically didn’t use a driver, but he’d hired one for the evening. She’d been in limos before.
While Thomas had grown more and more ill, they’d been his preferred mode of travel.
Still, it was a reminder of just how much her life had changed. The money, the luxury, none of it mattered to her. All that mattered was the man beside her and what their future held.
Moving through the Garden District, they headed toward the large country club that had played host to so many events over the years.
She’d accompanied Thomas to many of them, and had watched Vincent from across the room as he steadfastly ignored her. At least now, she understood why. She also had a new appreciation for why he’d been so adverse to being in a relationship. Vanessa was many things, including a liar, but everything she’d said that day had the ring of truth to it.
“You’re very quiet,” he remarked. “You seem nervous.”
“I just don’t trust these people, Vincent. If Claude has told Vanessa about the will, who else knows? What else do they know?”
He shrugged, his features shadowed inside the vehicle, his expression unreadable. “We just have to see what goes down. If Claude has violated the nondisclosure agreement, then we’ll just go into damage control mode.”
“Damage control?”
“I don’t mean that the way it sounds. Whatever happens, I don’t have any regrets about where you and I are right now. But when it comes to the business, the stockholders may not be as inclined to entrust the fate of their investment to something as precarious as whether or not we can make a relationship we were forced into work.”
Would his feelings about that change when he found out she was pregnant? The conversation they’d had a few weeks earlier came back to her. He’d told her he couldn’t see himself as a father. Feeling sick, more with nerves than anything, she grew quiet again as they approached the club.
Her feeling of trepidation only increased as the car rolled to a stop. When the driver opened the door, she drew a deep steadying breath and allowed Vincent to help her from the car. Placing her hand on his arm, she allowed him to lead her inside, ignoring the curious stares of those present.
“It will be fine,” he promised, leading her to where
Justin stood at the bar, looking dapper in a tux.
Ophelia had never considered it before, but there was no resemblance between them. Did he know? What would it do to them if that secret came out?
“Ophelia, you look stunning,” Justin greeted her. “Vincent doesn’t deserve you.”
Vincent smiled. “I’ve never denied that. Why don’t the two of you dance wh
ile I go talk a little business with Marvin?”
Justin took her hand and led her to the dance floor, but Ophelia could only watch as Vincent walked away, heading for what she knew would be an ugly confrontation.
“Stop worrying,” Justin urged.
“You know what’s going on?” Ophelia asked, surprised.
“Vincent wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important—and since he’d never willingly do business with Marvin, I can only assume this has something to do with Claude.”
Ophelia confided in him then, needing to feel that they at least had someone there on their side. “Claude’s been embezzling from the company. Paying the same amount for all the linen supplies for the hotels, but substituting them with cheaper products from Tate.”
Justin spun her around on the dance floor, a smile on his face, but his eyes sharp. “That seems a bit sophisticated for Claude. He’s a bully and an ass. Strategy has never been his strong suit.”
She smiled in spite of everything. “I said basically the same thing.”
“Vincent can handle this. Whatever is going on, he will find a way to make it work. He has this instinct about what’s best for the company, and for all of us. He always has.”
“There’s more, Justin. Claude shared some very sensitive information with my mother—she can’t be trusted. Not at all. She’ll exploit this for everything it’s worth. I told Vincent part of it, but I couldn’t tell him the whole truth.”
He shook his head. “There are too many damned secrets in this family. Secrets about our parents, secrets about Thomas. Secrets about me, and yes I know all the ugly truth and all the rumors. If it all came out, I swear, I’d feel nothing but relief.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“Yes,” he said emphatically, and the sincerity in his green eyes was compelling. “Secrets do nothing but create misery. The truth, as bad as it can be, is never worse than living with the fear of exposure.”
Been Loving You Too Long (DuChamps Dynasty) Page 17