Take My Heart: A Steamy Romantic Suspense Novel

by J. J. Sorel

  Ava asked, “Who are you calling?”

  Before I could answer her, my mom picked up. “Darling, how are you?”

  “I’m okay.” I pushed back a strand of hair from my damp forehead. “Mom, that cameo, how did it come about? I need the truth.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. Only what you already know, Bronson. It was found in your crib wrapped in a handkerchief.”

  A loud breath left my dry mouth. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. We would never lie. I unraveled the cloth it came in. That was all we got from the orphanage.”

  I stared at Ava long and hard. “Some new information has come to light to do with the original owner.”

  “Really? Then follow it up, son. There could be the answer you’ve been seeking all these years. How odd. You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

  “I will. Catch you soon.” I ended the call and turned to Ava. “Take me to Aggie.”

  Ava bit her lip. “I’m not sure if she’ll like that. She’s pretty private.”

  “Then I need to go snooping around. I’ll employ a detective to look into her past if I must. Are there photo albums, pictures? Can you get access to anything like that?” Words poured out faster than I could think.

  Ava replied, “I suppose I could look around. I was in her bedroom earlier today. That’s pretty empty, which is kind of weird, to be honest.”

  “Why?” I asked, suddenly obsessed with the eccentric lady that I’d heard so much about.

  It suddenly occurred to me: Aggie might have even been my biological grandmother! The thought fired my veins with an impatient need to meet her despite a sudden prickle of discomfort. Because if we were blood-related, I would find it hard to look at her in face for abandoning me.

  “There are no images of family. Except…”

  “Except what?”

  “Just that there’s a painting of Aggie when she was younger…” Ava’s stammering made me hold my breath. “She happens to look like me.”

  “Is this some kind of weird shit going on?” My voice had turned stony.

  “What?” Her face contorted in alarm. “Are you accusing me of setting this up?”

  I took her hand. “Hey. No. And even if you did, I’d still want you.”

  Her mouth pulled a mock smile. “Gee, thanks.”

  “Oh, come on, please, Ava. Don’t…” I ran my hands through my hair almost violently. “Hey.” I brushed her cheek and stared straight into her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?” She nodded, appearing just as spooked as me. “But it is fucking weirdly coincidental,” I had to add.

  She nodded. “You’re not kidding.”

  “Tell me, how exactly did you get this job?”

  She bit into a nail. “Through an agency.”

  “That’s pretty random.”

  “It is. Only… they asked for photos of me.”

  “Is that standard practice?” I asked.

  “I haven’t been asked for one before, not that I’ve gone for many jobs that way. After I lost my job, I wasn’t sure what to do. Cassie suggested an agency, and they asked for my photo. After that, I got the job.”

  “Did you ask Aggie why?”

  She nodded. “She said she wanted someone pretty to look at.”

  My head pushed back. “She’s not like that, is she?”

  “No… she’s a fully-fledged man lover. She’s pretty frank when it comes to her dalliances as a young woman.”

  Grabbing Ava by the hand, I said, “Come on, we’re going there now.”

  Her eyes shone with concern. “I just left Aggie in bed.”

  I looked down at my watch. “It’s only seven o’clock. You can introduce me to her. Explain that it’s about the cameo…” My words raced along with my heart. “Damn it. Just tell her the fucking truth, Ava.”

  “Aggie could receive a shock if we turn up like this,” she said.

  I took a deep breath. Ava had a point. We should respect Aggie’s age and need for privacy. “Then tomorrow, take me with you.”

  The following day, I met Ava at our regular meeting spot in the park. I’d been nervous all day about visiting Aggie.

  As I took Ava into my arms, I kissed her and drew in the fresh, fragrant scent of her hair, which always filled me with hope and positivity. Despite our having spent the night together, she still managed to take my breath away.

  Whatever this was, Ava was still the prize.

  “Are you okay, baby? You look pale.”

  “I’m just a bit spooked,” she admitted.

  I lowered my head to look at her properly. “I don’t believe in that stuff. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. And I do plan to get to the bottom of it.”

  “But there are so many weird aspects to this. I googled Agatha Johnson, researching the social pages of old Vogues and Cosmopolitans, but there was nothing about her anywhere.”

  I shrugged. “It’s not like today where everyone’s profile and image are locatable via popular media. Maybe Aggie was also private back then.”

  Ava nodded vaguely. “Let’s do this, then.”

  When we arrived at the gray-stone Art Deco building, I almost forgot about the strange mission ahead of me and whistled. “I love this era of design. Very elegant.”

  Ava squeezed my hand. “Me too. It’s a weird scene in there, though. There’s no one around except Charlie. Let’s ride the elevator so you can meet him.”

  The elevator was open, but there was no Charlie.

  “Where is he?” asked Ava.

  “Maybe it’s his day off,” I said, leading her in.

  “But he’s always here.” Ava’s voice rang with disappointment. “I so wanted you to meet him. He’s like something out of a 1930’s movie.”

  When we stepped out of the elevator, I had to adjust my eyes to the dark, moody lighting, which only added to a ghostly vibe.

  I looked about me, and with each step, a strange feeling that we were being watched cast a shadow over me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  AVA

  Bronson stroked the walls. “Silk wallpaper. No cost has been spared here.” He pointed to the ceiling. “I love the geometric design. The detail is incredible.”

  A smile helped ease the tension that had followed me into that building. When no response came to my knock, I unlocked the door, and we stepped into the Aggie’s opulent home.

  Roses arranged in crystal vases filled the air with a pleasant scent. The fact that they hadn’t been there the previous day indicated that someone had visited, bringing me relief. I hated the idea of Aggie being alone.

  Assuming that Aggie was upstairs, I whispered, “Come with me.”

  We both looked up at the imposing staircase. Bronson ran his hand over the polished wooden balustrade, as I’d done the first time ascending that grand old staircase.

  I spoke into his ear. “I don’t want to frighten her. So don’t follow me into the bedroom until I say.”

  When we reached the landing, Bronson stopped to look at the large portrait on the wall.

  I whispered, “Who does she look like?”

  His scrutiny shifted from the painting to me and back again. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’ve already told you. I have nothing to do with this.”

  The way his eyes narrowed chilled me. I stared straight at Bronson in a bid for him to look at me, but his attention went straight to the open door leading into Aggie’s bedroom.

  Instead of embarking on an argument, which was what I wanted to do, given this sudden lack of trust, I headed into Aggie’s bedroom.

  She seemed asleep, so I crept in slowly and wavered while I stood by her bedside. It always felt intrusive being there.

  I looked around the room, and a closet caught my eye. I snuck over and tried to open it, but couldn’t.

  I returned to Aggie’s bedside, where Bronson now had joined me. We both jumped when Aggie murmured something. Noticing her eyes shut, I decided it must have been a dream.


  Grabbing a chair, I sat down. Looking over at Bronson, I cocked my head toward the closet. My heart raced as I watched him tiptoe over to it. Just as he was trying to turn the handle, Aggie stirred and opened her eyes.

  “Who’s there?” she asked.

  “It’s Ava,” I said, unsure whether she could see me.

  “Oh… but you’re not alone…”

  At the sound of her voice, Bronson was by my side again. And before I could reply, she lifted herself up and craned her neck.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  Stepping closer, Bronson came into the light. It took a moment for her to focus, but when she did, Aggie touched her mouth. Her eyes widened, and a cry left her lips. “Monty! Oh, my soul… Monty! Am I dead?”

  Then, just as I took her hand, it became limp. She’d passed out.

  I panicked and looked to Bronson, who felt her wrist for a pulse before placing his hand under her nose. “She’s breathing.”

  “She’s had a shock,” I said. Leaving him there alone with Aggie, I ran to the kitchen and bounded back up the stairs with a glass of water, spilling some of it along the way.

  I found Bronson holding her hand, while Aggie smiled lovingly into his face.

  Bronson turned to look at me, widening his eyes in puzzlement, as I handed Aggie the water.

  “Have a drink, Aggie. I’m sorry to have shocked you this way, but Bronson…”

  “Bronson?” A deep line grew between her eyebrows. “This is Monty.”

  He turned to me and responded with a subtle shake of the head.

  “My darling Monty. I always knew you’d come back.”

  I lowered my voice. “Aggie… This is not Monty. It’s Bronson.”

  “But he is his image. How can this be?”

  “He gave me this cameo.” I removed it to show her again.

  Aggie studied Bronson. “You stole it, didn’t you, Monty? I suspected you did. Is that how you came into that money? And to think, I defended you after Clarke pointed the finger at you.”

  Aggie’s heavy breathing made it difficult for her to talk. I looked at Bronson and whispered, “Let her rest.”

  Just as he rose from the chair by her bed, Aggie grabbed for his hand. “Don’t leave me again, Monty. You can have the cameo. I won’t tell Mother.” And then she dropped back onto the pillow and closed her eyes.

  After making sure Aggie was still breathing, I led Bronson out of the room.

  “She’s delirious. I don’t think you’re going to get much sense out of her. And with her thinking you’re Monty, that’s only adding to her excitement,” I whispered.

  “Who the fuck’s Monty?” Bronson asked, looking pale and bewildered.

  I crooked my finger. “Let’s go and get a drink. I could really use one. And I will tell you all about Monty. Or at least what I know.”

  “There’s that closet,” said Bronson when we were back on the ground floor. “We need to look inside it.”

  As I followed him to the lobby, that was all that he’d said. Bronson looked pale and unrecognizable as if he’d seen a ghost. I supposed that was probably how I looked too. At least I could now share the strangeness of this experience with another, I thought.

  Standing before the glass doors, looking out onto the busy pavement, I couldn’t help but wonder at the stark contrast between the empty, old-world foyer that seemed to trap time and the endless parade of humanity pushing time along. Holding cells to their ears, they pounded the pavement in a very different world from the one I was just in.

  We finally settled for a quiet bar only a few doors up from Aggie’s. I ordered a martini, of all things, while Bronson went for a double shot of bourbon.

  Taking a sip of the calming drink, I said, “Bronson, I’m not involved in any kind of crazy scheme here. I hope you realize that.”

  He gulped down half a glass of liquor. “What do you know about that painting? She looks a lot like you.”

  “So you keep saying,” I responded coolly.

  He touched my hand, thawing the chill that had settled there. “I don’t think you cooked this up to lure me, Ava. It’s just fucking strange.”

  “How do you think I felt when I first saw it? I obviously look a lot like Aggie did when she was my age.” I knitted my fingers together. “It’s a coincidence, I suppose.” That last comment lacked conviction, given that coincidence seemed too lame an excuse for the conspiracy theories I’d come up with.

  “I don’t believe in the supernatural, Ava.” Bronson’s intense gaze bored into me.

  “Nor do I, Bronson. If you keep implying that I’ve got something to do with this, I’m going to leave right now.” My quivering words were fueled by the fiery liquid that slid down my throat.

  Shaking his head vehemently, Bronson grabbed my hand and leaned forward. The intensity of alarm emanating from those dark eyes caused the hairs on my arms to spike. I was witnessing firsthand what the fear of abandonment looked like.

  An audible sigh left me. Locking eyes with my intense boyfriend, I gulped down my martini as though it were lemonade.

  Having already finished his drink, Bronson beckoned the staff.

  When the waiter arrived, he collected our empty glasses, and asked me, “Another?”

  I nodded.

  After the drinks arrived, Bronson said, “You promised to fill me in on Monty.”

  Brevity was not one of my virtues when it came to the retelling of events. That being the case, I ended up relating everything I’d heard and experienced during my visits to Aggie. Given that his DNA was potentially woven into the story somehow, I had Bronson’s unflinching attention.

  “Then Monty must be my relative,” he responded after a long period of reflection. “I’m too young to be their love child. Do you think Aggie’s my grandmother?”

  I responded with a decisive shake of the head. “Impossible. Aggie never gave birth. She did tell me, however, that Monty married Penelope, who then became pregnant.”

  “Then Monty must be my grandfather, I suppose,” said Bronson.

  “I’d say so, going on Aggie’s reaction. You’re his double it seems.”

  The more I thought about it, the more I saw how ridiculous the whole situation looked, so much so that I started to laugh.

  “Why are you laughing, Ava?” His serious glare only added to my dark amusement, which I couldn’t help, because I kept seeing Aggie lunging for Bronson.

  Bronson’s features softened a little. “I suppose I’d laugh too if I were watching it play out. She did look like she was ready to pounce on me.”

  “You do have that effect on women, Bron,” I said.

  “Bron?” His lips curled with a hint of a smile.

  I responded with a smirk. It was either that or lose my mind. “Can’t I call you that?”

  He stroked my hand. “As long as you let me rip your panties off, you can call me whatever you want.”

  “Then we better get back to your place, Bron,” I said, playing with his fingers and relieved to have a break from what had been an intense couple of hours.

  As we were leaving, Bronson said, “You do realize I have to get to the bottom of this?”

  I stopped walking and said, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. In any case, my curiosity’s piqued big time.”

  “I need to get into that closet,” he said.

  As that same thought crossed my mind, I remembered that key in the drawer by Aggie’s bed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  BRONSON

  I clasped my beer as if it was my last drink. James had a dramatic expression on his face. And suddenly I expected that he was about to tell me that the project had stalled.

  “What’s up, James? You’ve just downed that shot like your life depended on it.” I watched him toy with his bottle of beer. A shot in the late afternoon, followed by a beer chaser suggested something was eating away at my normally moderate uncle.

  “Marc had a big night out with Justin two nights ago. I
t was Justin’s birthday.”

  I remembered that dirtbag’s birthday like I remembered all my family’s dates. For some reason, I had a good memory for birthdays.

  “That must have been a lonely affair.” My dry tone made my uncle’s mouth curve at one end.

  “Your mother arranged a dinner for him. I didn’t go, because Justin had insisted on taking Candy.”

  I sniffed. “Mm… why does that not surprise me? He only ever thinks about himself.”

  James sipped his beer. His eyes plowed into me.

  “Okay, out with it. The short version. I need to meet Ava soon.” My foot tapped impatiently against the bar stool.

  Since meeting Aggie, I hadn’t had a moment’s rest. Questions swirled like a kite battered in a storm. Even Ava’s sudden presence in my life perplexed me. Other than her calling me that first time, I had to keep reminding myself that I’d been the one doing the chasing.

  James said, “Justin dragged Marc out for a big night on the town. You know Justin, always looking for a party.” He circled his bottle slowly while collecting his words. “Look, Bronson, he admitted to it.”

  “What?” I studied him intently.

  “He admitted to stashing the coke in your room.”

  “That’s old news. Except…” My mind started to tick away. With those photos I had of Justin doing powder, coupled with a testimony from Marc, it would be enough to crucify him.

  “Would Marc testify?”

  James shrugged. “It’s very complicated. None of us are surprised. But it would mean Justin being struck from the bar.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about that. He’s ruined my reputation. I lost one year of my life because of that prick.”

  “Alice has already spoken to Justin. Today, I believe. He’s come out swinging. Saying that it’s all bullshit and that there isn’t any proof.”

  “I could make this dirtier if I want. I’ve got a photo of him snorting coke,” I said. “With Candy.”

  His brow moved. “You have?”

  I nodded.

  “Then, there’s something there. It will kill Alice.”