by Dani Wade
She opened her mouth to ask more, propelled by some internal need for answers, but her phone rang. They both started at the sound. It took her a moment to pull her gaze away from his face to focus on the noise. Bill’s name scrolled across the screen.
She connected the call but had to clear her throat before any words would come out. “Yes?”
She only caught a few rushed words, but her brain refused to comprehend them. “I’m sorry. What?”
“There’s been another post. You might want to take a look.” He paused a moment before going on, “I’m sorry, Trinity.”
She barely acknowledged his words as she hung up. She was too busy trying to access the site on her phone. Dread settled hard in her stomach. Why was this person tormenting her like this?
Sure enough, the new post was all about her. This blogger didn’t play around. There were already dozens of comments. But it was the picture that held Trinity captivated, cutting off her breath for long moments.
The post consisted of two photos side by side. The one on the left was a picture of a picture. Someone had obviously gotten their hands on the old photograph—one she knew was framed here in the house. Her at fifteen, all awkward smile and hand-me-down clothes. A twenty-five-year-old Michael stood by her side, dapper in his dress shirt and tie. They stood outside Maison de Jardin, comfortable in their friendship, even at that age.
The second picture featured her now, dressed to the nines in the sapphire gown she’d worn to the museum event because Michael had picked it out for her. Then and now. Poor and rich. Awkward and soberly mourning, though no one else would believe it. Certainly no one who had commented had taken that view.
And then the hateful caption:
Planning ahead? Guess she got what she worked all those years for.
Trinity’s throat closed up.
She could remember the very moment the first photograph had been taken. The happiness she’d felt having her best friend by her side. Having his acceptance of her as something like a sister, despite the differences of age and wealth between them.
To have it used against her in this comparison post was vaguely ironic in a way she couldn’t fully grasp through the hurt of the accusation. She forced herself to take a shallow breath.
Of course, people thought that. They had to. But the only ones to ever say it out loud were Patricia and Richard. To see it on the screen for anyone to see...
Suddenly she felt a warm hand at the nape of her neck, right over the tense knot developing there. The tightness melted immediately.
She wanted to dive into that warmth, to hide in a cocoon where no one could find her. Just as her eyes drifted closed, she remembered.
This was Rhett. He couldn’t be trusted. After what she’d just seen, such personal ammunition that could have been taken from this very house, she was beginning to think no one could.
So she forced the starch back into her spine and subtly pulled away. For long moments, he lingered by her side, his close presence both calling to her and inciting fear. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she looked up to see him staring at the screen of her phone.
Part of her shriveled up inside to have him see it, to expose him to the rumors about her, even though someone had probably told him before now.
“Started gold digging at a young age, huh?”
* * *
Rhett could sense the stiffening of Trinity’s muscles, her defenses rising against the accusing eyes of the world.
Usually he would never have been that crude but he had a growing need to get some real insight into Trinity’s intentions. Good or bad, he simply needed to know.
Though he’d only meant to be flippant, Trinity’s face spasmed in pain, leaving him with an uncomfortable feeling. One that wasn’t familiar. It took a few seconds before he realized he was contrite.
“Where do they get this stuff?” he scoffed, surprising himself as he attempted to take the pressure off.
That shouldn’t be his mode of operation. He should be pressing harder, not consoling her, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
“People only see what they’re looking for,” he continued.
He’d said the words time and again to his partner. It was his way of explaining why people could fool others over and over and get away with it. The truth was in the eye of the beholder.
He couldn’t stop his gentle squeeze of her neck, but then he made himself let go and step away.
But the urge to touch her again wouldn’t subside. The feel of her warm, silken skin lingered against his palm. Instead he focused on what he’d just said. Were his comforting words only an attempt to get into her good graces? Or was her vulnerability getting to him?
Finally, she turned those oh-so-soulful eyes away from him. Only then could he focus once more on the pictures still displayed on her phone.
In the first photograph, Trinity looked so innocent that it almost hurt. So young. So eager. So ripe for the picking. Her expression seemed to hold an awareness that Michael’s friendship wasn’t normal for someone in her situation. Had Michael taken the opportunity to make her more than a friend at some point before their marriage? Surely, he had in all those years that they’d known each other.
Then why had he suddenly married her when he did?
In the photo, Michael exuded confidence and knowledge of his place in the world. And a comfortable sense of belonging at Trinity’s side that Rhett was suddenly jealous of, even though they weren’t touching. Why had someone ten years Trinity’s senior felt the need to befriend one of the children in his care?
That’s when Rhett spotted something that made him double back. He leaned in, unsure if it was a trick of the light. The photo was grainy, obviously a picture of a picture. But was that an angry, raised scar snaking along Trinity’s hairline?
Slowly he reached out to rub the tip of his finger over her cheek in the picture. “What’s this?” he asked.
The jolt of her body told him he’d gone too far, but he wouldn’t back down. And he didn’t pull away from her. He couldn’t tell if he was staying so close to put on the pressure or to savor the feel of her. When he didn’t move, she finally spoke.
“People have made up my story to suit themselves my entire life,” she said, skirting his direct question. Her voice was shaky at first, but grew steadier with each word. “Guess it’s more interesting than the boring truth.”
“I doubt anything about you is boring,” he countered. It was meant to charm her but he realized it was true.
The scar fascinated him. It was red and raised but still partially hidden by her hair in the picture. A quick glance showed no evidence of scarring at her now-smooth temple. Had the injury been less severe than it appeared in the photo?
As if she knew he was looking, Trinity turned to gaze out the bay window of the breakfast nook.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Trinity was instantly on her feet, her chair skittering back a few inches on the polished wood floor. “It was an accident,” she said, her voice clipped.
Her movements were tight as she crossed the room, stalking over the tile floor until she could press her palms down against the smooth wood of the buffet. Instinct told him she wasn’t surveying the food for a second helping. She wanted away from him, but she hadn’t left the room.
Why?
He couldn’t stop himself. As if his body had a mind of its own, he followed her, stepping closer than he knew she would be comfortable with. Watching her. Needing that reaction on some gut level.
“What kind of accident?”
The sudden anger that vibrated off her surprised him...and intrigued him even more.
“Why should I tell you anything?” she finally barked. “So you can use it against me like everyone else?”
He wanted to refute her words, be angry that she would assume such a thi
ng. But the truth was, his assignment was to do exactly that.
“Why would you assume I want to hurt you?” he asked instead, his voice low and quiet.
Her face suddenly scrunched up in confusion. “I don’t know, I just—” She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts away. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
There was no denying his need to touch her. He took another step closer, reaching his hand around until he could cup her chin. Turning her face to his woke the urge to kiss her, but he held himself back. Barely. Her answer was more important to him.
“Tell me, Trinity.”
“Why should I?”
She backed away, giving him a better view of her face and the protective curve of her arms around her waist. Still he kept his connection with her, skin to skin.
“Because I need to know.” The words came out of nowhere and were the most honest thing he’d ever told a target. Nerves exploded in his gut for the first time in a long time. A target. He didn’t want to think about her that way...ever.
She shook her head slightly. “I don’t think you’d understand. Most people don’t.” She swallowed, drawing his gaze down to the smooth column of her throat. How vulnerable. How tempting. “Very few people understand what it’s like to live under such hostile scrutiny. Everywhere I turn, someone is waiting to twist the truth to suit their own devices. I’ve lived in this fishbowl for weeks. Have you?” Her voice hardened. “Can you even begin to understand what it’s like to not be able to trust anyone anymore?”
Rhett felt his eyelids fall to half-mast. His gaze dropped from her soulful brown eyes to the pale skin he stroked with his thumb. Despite his resistance, his mind took him back to another time. The defining moments that taught him the very lesson that had changed his path forever. Hardened him. Broken him.
“Oh, yes, I understand,” he murmured.
Though the back of his mind was screaming at him to shut up, he couldn’t keep the words inside. On some level, he owed them to her for his many deceptions. “I know all about being scrutinized and used. Women aren’t the only ones vulnerable to that treatment.”
“What happened?” she asked, her soft voice barely registering over the memories flooding his brain.
He felt his mouth twist, knowing he was revealing the true amount of cynicism in his heart. It was an emotion he normally kept deeply buried beneath a charming facade. “I trusted the wrong person. I thought I was in love, only to find out she simply wanted me for my money.”
Six
Trinity’s anger melted immediately, leaving behind an uncomfortable mixture of awareness and sympathy for the man standing so close to her. The heat from his body drew her. Made her want to sway closer until he gathered her into his strong arms and protected her from the prying eyes of the world.
But no. She’d learned early to stand on her own two feet. Protection was a fairy tale even Michael hadn’t been able to provide.
Rhett’s expression betrayed his surprise and regret over what he’d said. Given her own reluctance to share, she couldn’t blame him. It must be even harder for men to reveal that they’d been blindsided like that.
“I’m sorry, Rhett,” her sympathy compelled her to say. Maybe he was something of a kindred spirit.
He stepped away from her. “I’m not.”
That was definitely surprising. “Why?”
“It taught me a lot.” Though the words were confident, steady, Rhett’s smile was strained. “It put me on the path I’m on today. There’s no sense regretting it.”
But are you happy that it happened? She couldn’t speak the words, even though they resounded in her head. As hard as it had been since his death, she would never have given up her friendship with Michael for anything. Could never regret accepting his marriage request...even though it had led to some of the most deeply unhappy times of her life. She hadn’t known the scrutiny and backlash she would face.
Or how much of her life would be exposed. She’d learned from a young age to keep to herself. Then growing up in a group home, where everyone seemed to be in everyone else’s business, she’d become very private. So much so, she’d rather keep hidden or just not talk. Being thrust into the public eye was more devastating than she was willing to let on.
As if he’d read her mind, Rhett said, “Enough of my sordid history. So what happened? Fell off your bike? Got hit in a sport?”
Trinity wished it had been any number of mundane childhood accidents. Ones easily explained away. But she hadn’t spoken of the incident since it happened. Luckily the scar had long ago moved up under her thick hairline, covering the source of so many questions she’d had to brush off in her early teens.
She’d never even spoken of it with Michael. Though he hadn’t had to ask the details. He’d learned them from her devastated mother while Trinity had been hospitalized after the brutal beating her father had given her.
“Car accident?”
Rhett’s expression had grown more somber, showing a concern she hadn’t expected.
“Tell me it was a car accident and not—”
“We didn’t own a car.”
He blanched, and his reaction struck a chord in her. Which prompted her to tell the story she hadn’t told a soul in her life.
“We met Michael at Children’s Hospital. Mama and me.” She swallowed, wrapping her arms around her stomach. “He had walked over after visiting his father, who was in an adjacent hospital after a car accident that proved fatal, and found my mother crying in the emergency room lobby. Alone.”
She tried to cover the rest of the story as straightforwardly as possible. “My father had slammed me against the fireplace, cutting my face open from temple to ear. Mama didn’t know what to do. Even though he’d been abusive before, we stayed because there was no place to go. But this was the worst he’d ever hurt me.”
Trinity swallowed hard. Why, after all these years, did this memory make her throat tighten? It wasn’t like she cared about her father. He’d been cut from her life that very night.
Michael had made that possible.
“She took me to the hospital. We had no money, nothing from home. Just the clothes on our back. We knew we wouldn’t be able to return without serious repercussions. Michael—he took care of everything.”
He’d paid her hospital bill in cash. Had overlooked their lack of possessions and money and driven them to Maison de Jardin as soon as Trinity was released. Sent a couple of huge guys to their house to get their clothes. It was the first big step he’d taken to help another person in person, as opposed to just writing a check, and it had made as big an impact on him as it had on Trinity. Especially since his dad had been dying in a nearby hospital bed.
“How old were you?” Rhett asked, his quiet voice breaking her out of her reverie.
“I was ten,” she said. “Michael was twenty.”
He’d taken a special interest in her from that moment on. Never romantic. Despite the differences in their upbringings and social status, they’d eventually become inseparable. He’d helped her get her degree, and she’d formally gone to work for him while she was at university. Informally, she and her mother had been helping run the charity for years.
The wound that started it all was hidden now, just like her story had been. She felt a twinge of regret. Would Rhett think less of her for it? Lord knew there were many through the years who had looked down on her for living on charity most of her life. Her mother, too. But they’d never stopped giving back—both to Maison de Jardin and to the other women and children who had passed through the home over the years. Michael had relied on them, and they’d repaid him with everything they had.
Even to the point of marriage...
Trinity lifted her chin. Regardless of Rhett’s reaction, she knew she’d made the right choices in her life. “Maison is a godsend to women like my mot
her and me. It must continue. Those lives are worth way more than the cost of some land.”
Silence reigned in the cozy room for long minutes, leaving Trinity acutely aware that the two of them were alone with each other. The air felt thick with revelation. She wasn’t sure where to look or what to say next.
At long last she dragged her gaze from the gardens outside to look into Rhett’s eyes. Where she’d expected to find judgment, she instead saw an intensity that penetrated any barriers she might put up between them. She’d already felt raw. Now she was bare.
“You’re very right, Trinity,” he finally said.
No words of trite sympathy. Just a simple acknowledgment. Her body relaxed. She drew in a deep breath. “Would you like to see it?”
He was more than likely working for the enemy. The best she knew to do was to lure him over to her side. To help him see the good in Maison de Jardin and the women and children there.
But part of her request was personal. For the first time, she needed to share a part of her life that very few had seen.
He tilted his head to the side and silently regarded her. What was she doing? Was the risk worth it?
She wasn’t even sure if she was relieved when he said, “I believe I would.”
* * *
“You’re going soft, man.”
Rhett scoffed at his partner’s words later that night while ignoring the twinge of guilt they kicked up. “I just think this is important.”
“Whether your clients are telling the truth or not isn’t important.”
“Since when?” Had they really come to that point?
Chris was silent for a minute. “Maybe that’s the wrong way to put it. Yes, we want to do the right thing. But when was the last time a client was wrong?”