“Craven and Knowles, this is Trish. May I help you?”
“Trish, this is Mrs. Harrington. I need to speak with Parker as soon as possible. Tell him to call me.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll inform Maggie—”
“No, Trish, I’m not interested in his assistant. If I were I’d ask for her. On second thought, tell Parker that if Craven and Knowles plan to be part of the Harrington future, he’ll be at my apartment at ten this morning. I’ll be waiting.”
“Mrs. Harrington, I’m sure he has appointments.”
“Then he can cancel them. Good day.” I hung up.
Settling into Stewart’s chair I opened Parker’s folder, the pages burning my fingers. I hated every word as I scanned Parker’s contract. No longer was I a naïve eighteen-year-old. Now, I understood the meaning of the words. The innuendos were no longer mysterious but daunting. A knock on the door pulled me away from the torturous words on the page and back to the glass office overlooking the rough seas. I glanced at the clock: only a little before nine.
I didn’t think it would be Parker without an announcement from Lisa or Kristina. “Come in,” I responded cautiously.
The door opened and the familiar, dark gaze looked my way. “Mrs. Harrington, are you feeling better?”
I sat taller. “Yes, Travis. It was wrong of Val to bother you in the middle of the night.”
He came forward and eyed one of the chairs. I nodded as he sat. “No, it wasn’t wrong. It’s my job to make sure you’re all right.”
“Fine, it’s your job. You can protect me from real things, not nightmares.”
His brow rose as his dark brown eyes widened. “But you called out for me?”
“According to Valerie,” I clarified.
“So now we’re accusing the good doctor of lying?”
I stood and walked to the window. The skies were an uncustomary gray, with thick clouds that billowed toward the horizon as white caps graced the tips of the waves in the raging ocean. It was late autumn, near the end of hurricane season. Only large commercial ocean liners could be seen on the rough waters. The smaller crafts no doubt had heeded the warning about the impending weather.
Was that what I needed to do? Heed the warnings… but which ones? Who could I believe? Without turning, I began, “It was so real. I was there, at the warehouse. I was even reasoning with myself. I knew it couldn’t be real. I knew Stewart was dead. I remembered you saying that you’d always been there.” I closed my eyes and fought the revolt in the pit of my stomach from Robert’s rancid breath. “I tried to fight.”
A muffled laugh came from behind me. “As I recall, you’re a pretty damn good fighter.”
Hugging my midsection I spun and took in Travis’ expression. I didn’t see pity or condemnation as I’d expected; instead, I saw respect. I continued, “But this time was different. I couldn’t fight. My hands and feet were bound.”
“It wasn’t real,” Travis said matter-of-factly.
“It sure as hell felt real. It smelled real. I even saw him. He took off my blindfold. It was as if he wanted me to know it was him.”
Travis’ neck straightened. “Who? Who did you see?”
Biting my lip, I admitted, “I don’t know if I should say.”
“Why? You know I know who’s been there.”
“But what will it mean if I know? I’m not supposed to know.”
Travis stood and moved closer. “Who said you’re not supposed to know?”
“S-Stewart.”
His dark eyes questioned mine. “Mr. Harrington is dead. Right now, no one owns that contract. Right now, the choice is yours to know or not know.”
I moved back to the chair, suddenly alarmed at my desire to find solace in his proximity and common understanding. “Why would I possibly want to give anyone, you or Parker, the right to make those kinds of decisions for me again?”
“Because if you don’t, there are those who want to suck you into a world that will make your nightmare seem like a walk on the beach.”
“Those?”
“Who did you see in your nightmare?”
I closed my eyes and inhaled. Sighing, I admitted, “Senator Keene.”
Travis’ dark eyes opened wide as a shrill whistle came from his lips. “Damn, how long have you known?”
I shrugged. “Not long. You said politicians. He was at the viewing and I smelled him.”
“You smelled him?”
“You know—senses. I was never able to see the men or hear them. Most of the time I wasn’t allowed to touch them—not with my hands. That left the sense of smell and taste. Over the years I’ve identified a few friends by their unique odor: particular colognes, aftershaves, their breath. Senator Keene’s breath reeks.”
Travis nodded. “He’s one of the friends who’s not happy about the end of his visits. He’s supported or rather effectively turned a blind eye to some of the activities that happened within the underworld of Harrington Spas and Suites. He’s even been instrumental in expanding the business outside of the US. He believes that he’s entitled.”
“So how will that change if you or Parker is in control?”
“It won’t. However, it will keep you safer. Mr. Harrington had rules. You’re right that he enjoyed watching, but he also watched to be sure his rules were maintained. Multiple times throughout the years Mr. Harrington stopped things that you never knew about.”
I didn’t want to think about that. “Let me get this straight.” I looked Travis in the eye. “It doesn’t matter if it’s you or Parker, you both plan on making me continue this… this… life?”
“I don’t know what Mr. Craven plans. I would assume he does. From what I know of him, I would also assume the rules would be significantly different under his watchful eye.”
“From what you know? He’s one of them, isn’t he?”
Travis nodded again. “I don’t think that’s a revelation, is it?”
“No,” I admitted. “I’ve known that for a while, too.” I looked at Travis earnestly, “What about you? What are your plans?”
“To bring the fuckers down. Not all of them. There are a few sick bastards who’ve joined this party because they could. They have no hidden agenda. They’ll go away as quietly as they came. They don’t want their good names associated with a possible scandal. A few seconds of carefully selected audio and I can make them go away; however, there are a handful who know exactly what they’re doing. They think that by fucking with you, they’re helping themselves with other causes. I want to see them all burn in hell. Fuck, I’ll probably be there with them, but at least that’s a show I’ll enjoy.”
“Why, Travis? Why do you care?”
“It’s a long story.” He sighed. “One that began when I was too young to understand. Let’s just say that I knew a woman, one who was caught up in something similar to what you’ve gone through, but worse.”
I shook my head. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Really? Fucking look at yourself. Look at your goddamned life. You’re Victoria Fucking Harrington. You aren’t a poor girl with a twelve-year-old kid who’s trying to stay alive by playing the kinky games these ass-wipes want to play. You have choices. Mr. Harrington made choices for you, ones that would pacify the powers that be. They won’t stay pacified for long.
“You want to know what I’d do with that contract. I’d explain a few more of your choices to you. One thing I’d say is that you have a fucking fortune. Use it. Take it. Leave the goddamn world of Harrington Spas and Suites to rot.
“Do you really want to own a company that is nothing more than a cover for the exploitation of women who don’t live the fucking high life you live? I’m not saying that you’ve had it easy. You haven’t. But at the end of each day, you were unhurt and sleeping in a fancy-ass apartment or mansion with a fucking rock on your finger that could feed one of those other women’s families for five years.”
My stomach knotted. I’d never thought about it like that.
/> “You were destined for that life. Mr. Harrington made it the best he could. Now is your chance to make it better.”
Travis’ voice lowered. “I can guarantee that if you choose to not sign a contract with either one of us, my fucking job will get a lot more difficult. They want you.”
“Who? Who fucking wants me?”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Who fucked you the other day?”
I no longer felt that I had any secrets from Travis. In a way it was liberating. Without blinking, I replied honestly, “Brody Phillips.”
He shook his head. “Jesus, are you fucking crazy? He’s part of Craven and Knowles. They’re so deep in this shit. Your sense of smell should have told you to stay away.”
“No, you’re wrong. He does work there, but he’s not one of them. He didn’t know about the contract, the warehouse, or anything until I asked him to dig into it. All he knows is what I’ve told him.”
Travis leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “So he’s the reason you knew about the will?”
“Yes. You see? He’s helped me. It’s Parker I don’t trust.”
“Follow your gut… with Mr. Craven.”
“He’s on his way over.”
Travis inhaled deeply, his chest expanding in his tight shirt. “I implore you, Mrs. Harrington, do not sign his contract. Tell him that you’ve thought it over and want to fulfill your husband’s wishes. If you trust Mr. Phillips so much, have him write up a new contract with my name. But above all, under no circumstances should you sneak off without me. You truly don’t realize what you’re up against.”
“Travis, before you go, I want you to tell me something.”
His brow rose.
“Who is Carlisle?”
The blood drained from Travis’ usually confident expression. “Mrs. Harrington, neither Senator Keene nor Parker Craven is your worst nightmare. I’m not sure how or why you’re aware of Carlisle Albini; however, I suggest you forget what you know. He’s none of your concern; neither is Niccolo, Wesley, nor any of their family.”
None of my concern. Stewart had said that before we married. Albini? Wesley Albini, from Kinsley Preparatory.
“Niccolo is Carlisle’s brother. Who’s Wesley?” I asked.
“Mrs. Harrington, you have no idea what you’re asking.”
I raised my voice. “Tell me. Who is he?”
“Wesley is his son.”
“Niccolo’s son?”
“No, Carlisle’s.”
My head felt suddenly too heavy to hold. Wesley Albini was my brother.
“MRS. HARRINGTON,” KRISTINA’S voice came through the speaker of my phone. “Mr. Craven is here for his ten o’clock appointment.”
“Thank you, Kristina. Show him in.”
I stood.
“Vic-tor-ia.” He elongated my name as he entered Stewart’s office, my office.
“Parker, so nice of you to accommodate my wishes. I’m not quite ready to face the world.”
“It’s my pleasure. I understand that this is still a difficult time for you.” He sat across from my desk and leaned forward. “I suppose it will be for a while. I truly wish we didn’t need to discuss the matters at hand; however, I believe the sooner we address this, the sooner we can have it resolved.”
“Resolved?” I questioned. “I’m not sure what we need to resolve.”
“Victoria, you are in a precarious situation. If it weren’t so dire, I would gladly wait. However, there are deals that Stewart made, ones he has yet to fully repay.”
“Surely you’ve been in contact with our accountants and bankers. I’m confident that they can take care of whatever it is you need.”
I loved watching him shift in his seat. There was no way I was broaching the subject of the contract. I wanted to hear him say it.
His brows rose. “This isn’t about money. Don’t play dumb.”
“Oh, was I playing? You walked in here the other day and expected me to blindly sign documents without reading them.” When his lips pursed, I asked, “Now, that was you, wasn’t it?”
“I had every intention of explaining them to you at a later date. You don’t seem to understand the trust relationship there is between an attorney and client. There were many occasions where Stewart gave me full reign over his affairs.”
I sat back and opened my eyes wide. “Really, Parker? Please elaborate. In what areas of Stewart’s affairs did he give you carte blanche control?”
“Many more than you realize, Mrs. Harrington.”
My gaze never wavered as my lips twitched to a grin. “That isn’t what I was told. As a matter of fact, I was told your desired activities were constantly monitored.” I shrugged. “Then again, one doesn’t know whom a woman can trust these days.”
“Me. You can trust me. Stewart trusted me.” He reached into his briefcase and produced another folder. “I haven’t had the chance to show this to you, and Stewart didn’t sign it, but he was about to.” He opened the document titled: Last Will and Testament to a page near the back, and pointed. “Here, Mrs. Harrington, please read this clause, the one under Specific Bequests and Devises.”
I looked to where his bony finger pointed:
I, Stewart Allen Harrington, give controlling power over previously verified contract between myself and Victoria Ann Conway, now Victoria Conway Harrington, to the executor of my estate, Parker Craven, until such time as the withholdings upon said contract are complete or agreement is fulfilled.
I nodded. “Yes, that is interesting. However, as you stated, Stewart never signed this new will and testament; therefore, it’s not valid.”
“That is why I gave you the contract. We can fulfill your husband’s wishes by completing a new contract, one that is as legally binding as your first.”
“You may remember when Stewart and I signed that contract? It was the first time you and I met. You may also have realized that I was woefully uninformed of the true nature and extent of that contract. Nonetheless, I believe you are fully aware that I have followed that contract to the letter. I have fulfilled my obligation. Due to Stewart’s untimely death, I am now the sole inheritor of his estate. Tell me, Parker, what incentive do you have to entice me to sign your contract?”
I leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and looked him square in the eye. “In other words, tell me why in the fuck you think I’m that dumb. I can buy and sell you. I can fire your ass and find a new law firm to represent my holdings. Tell me why you think I’d agree to living that hell another day.”
Though he seemed slightly put off by my forwardness, Parker didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, Victoria, I remember the first time I saw you. I remember many other things.”
I maintained my façade though my stomach lurched.
He went on. “I also know about deals that Stewart made. After all, I’m his attorney. Let’s specifically talk about this one.” He reached down and retrieved another folder. When he opened it, and I saw the document, I knew I didn’t need to read it. I knew exactly what it was. Parker watched my expression before he continued, “I’ll assume, for the sake of argument, that you recognize this contract, your original contract?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, indeed. If I recall, it was the one that Stewart asked you to review only days before his death?”
“It is the one I reviewed only days before my husband’s death,” I confirmed, changing only a small part of his meaning. Again, he didn’t miss what I said.
His eyes flashed knowingly. “I heard a few semantic changes to that agreement.” He leaned forward. “If we’re to make this work, honesty would be best. Mrs. Harrington, your husband didn’t tell you to review the contract, did he?”
“No.”
“You weren’t with your husband the afternoon in question, as you previously stated. Were you?”
“No, I was not.”
His smug confidence grew. “And you know how I know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Parker. If we’re going
for honesty, I know that you’re the pencil dick I spent my afternoon with. I’m honestly surprised that Maura has stayed with you this long.”
Crimson blossomed from his neck to his cheeks. “Maybe she hasn’t complained because she isn’t as experienced as you.”
I raised my eyebrows. “It wouldn’t take her long to comparison shop. I must say, you can rest assured that your wife is faithful. I mean, all it would take is one other man to show her that she’s spent her life with a bargain-basement second, when truly she would be happier with a designer knockoff.”
Parker’s jaws clenched as the vein in his forehead bulged.
“Again, I’ll ask you, Parker, why would I possibly want to sign your contract?”
“Don’t act so confident. You have no idea the mess that Stewart left. His dying is your worst nightmare.”
“I doubt that. I’ve already had some pretty bad nightmares.”
“Stewart wanted to be perfectly certain of whom he was marrying. He had you thoroughly investigated.”
I shook my head. “I was eighteen fucking years old. I’m sure that investigator enjoyed the cakewalk.”
Parker sat taller. “No, Victoria, you were nineteen.”
Bile bubbled from the depths of my stomach. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think I know how old I was.”
He tapped the desk. “You will sign my contract because if you don’t, I’ll share that bit of your personal history with interested parties. One interested party will be the US government.”
“Excuse me?”
“When you married Stewart Harrington, you claimed to be Victoria Conway, born in May. Whether you know this or not, the birth certificate you produced for your marriage license was false. It was changed, forged. Therefore, if that information were to be made public, you could neither buy nor sell me. Your marriage would be rendered null and void. Stewart’s holdings would go into probate. In the meantime, I would be the one, as executor, who would be in control of everything. That would include the foundations, such as the Harrington Society.”
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