The Prodigal's Desire

by Valerie Lynne

  HENRY STEPPED OFF THE hospital’s elevator, surprised to find Patrice pacing in the hallway of the fifth floor. Concern filled her chocolate brown eyes as she rushed toward him. “Mr. Henry, how are you? I was so worried when I heard about the fire.” Her hands shook as she cupped his cheeks. “I don’t want to keep you, but I had to come. But please don’t tell Mr. Santana. I can’t lose my job, and he’ll fire me if he knew I was here.”

  Henry’s brows furrowed. “Why? Do you know something about Victoria’s attacker? Did my father say something about it?”

  “No...no. Nothing like that, but Ms. St. Regis—”

  He stiffened. “What about Ms. St. Regis?”

  “It was awful. Ms. St. Regis and Mr. Santana had a terrible fight.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Henry said in a tone much calmer than he actually felt.

  “The other night, around 1:00 a.m., I heard banging at the front door and a woman’s high-pitched voice shrieking hysterically,” Patrice said, wringing her hands. “I was afraid someone was hurt, so I went downstairs. They sounded so angry. Their voices kept getting louder and louder. Then I heard the sound of breaking glass. I knocked at the door, but when Mr. Santana finally opened it, he hollered for me to go back to bed.”

  “Did you hear what they were arguing about?”

  “Mr. Santana kept spewing hateful words. Words too terrible for me to repeat. Ms. St. Regis was crying, and I heard Ms. St. Regis scream over and over that you loved her.”

  Henry’s jaw clenched. “That’s a damn lie.”

  “She said that Mr. Santana had promised to help her—that they had a plan.”

  Unease surged through him. “How do you know it was Kelly? Did you see her?”

  Patrice’s eyes widened. “Yes! When Mr. Santana unlocked the door, he looked like a madman. He was rough with her. He dragged her to the front door and shoved her out into the cold. Then he threatened me.”

  “What do you mean, threatened you?” Henry asked, his tone deadly.

  “He said it was best I forgot I’d ever seen her. Called her filthy and a no-good excuse for a woman.”

  “Have you told anyone about this?”

  “No. I haven’t told a soul except you. I felt you should know I think they were speaking of Ms. Isobel, too. I was so scared. Ms. St. Regis was talking gibberish.”

  “Isobel?” Henry’s voice cracked. “Tell me what she said about Isobel.” He braced himself for what he was about to hear. Dumbfounded, he listened as Patrice relayed several more details of the encounter. “Victoria’s best friend, Jennifer’s boyfriend, is a cop. Would you mind repeating what you told me to him?”

  Patrice nodded. “Of course, I wouldn’t. If you think it will help.”

  “He’s with her now. Please wait right here,” Henry said.

  Stepping into the darkened hospital room, he saw Andre reclining in an oversized chair. He placed his finger to his lips, signaling for Henry to remain quiet, and acquiesced as Henry gestured for him to come into the corridor. Henry stood in the shadows, lurking beside the half-open door, as Andre carefully slid Jennifer off his lap, adjusting her body into the corner of the oversized chair. She mumbled something incomprehensible. “Sleep. I’ll be right back,” Andre whispered, his hand stroking her hair as he placed his lips on her forehead. Then he moved toward Henry and followed him out of the room.

  Chapter 32

  Kelly

  The Uber driver ran to the rear passenger’s door and opened it wide. Slowly and deliberately, Kelly lowered each leg onto the sidewalk, allowing ample time for the young man to gape at her long legs before exiting the Dodge. A sly smile etched across her lips as she noted the bulge at his crotch. She leaned close, her lips brushing his cheek. “Thanks for the ride,” she said while tucking a folded twenty-dollar bill into his pocket.

  Hips swaying, Kelly sauntered to the entrance of the Gilded Seashell Hotel. “Well, hello,” she said, smiling seductively at the gray-haired doorman.

  He nodded. “Madam.”

  Advancing through the large glass doors, her head held high, she surveyed the lobby’s occupants. Euphoria flooded through her as she saw the envious glares of women, the hushed whispers of teenagers, and the raw lust brewing in every single man’s eyes as they admired her.

  Shoulders back, breasts jutting forward, Kelly glided across the floor using her model’s strut. Heart beating rapidly, she advanced toward the reservations desk.

  “Good afternoon. How can I be of assistance today?” The over-eager clerk asked.

  Kelly lowered her dark glasses to the end of her nose, her lips curling with disdain as she took in the young woman’s attire. “I’m here to meet with my fiancé, Mr. Henrique Santana.”

  The young woman smiled. “May I have your name so that I can inform Mr. Santana of your arrival?”

  Having just spent a fortune at the Golden Anchor Day Spa, Kelly’s long, dark tresses had been perfectly coiffed into an elegant updo, and her makeup was applied to perfection. “You must be joking,” she said haughtily, waving her freshly manicured fingernails dismissively.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s policy. Here at the Gilded Seashell Hotel, we take our valued guests’ privacy seriously. We must always ring them before allowing visitors access to their accommodations.”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t know who I am.”

  The hotel clerk’s smile faded. “Your name?” she repeated, her chin set firmly.

  “Kelly St. Regis.”

  “One moment, Ms. St. Regis.”

  Kelly rolled her eyes, watching the clerk pick up the telephone and dial Henry’s room number.

  “Mr. Santana, this is Mindy, the Head Reservations Agent.” She peered over her shoulder and glared at Kelly before continuing. “There’s a woman named Ms. St. Regis asking to see you.”

  Kelly sighed, tapping her fingertips on the counter.

  After a few pleasantries, Mindy hung up the receiver. “Room 204.” She pointed to the elevator. “The stairs are around the corner if you prefer.”

  Henry

  Henry sat on the edge of the unmade bed. He clutched a half-empty liquor bottle in one hand, while he braced his elbow on the other. Breathing in deeply, he took his time filling his lungs to capacity before exhaling long and slow.

  The last 24-hours had been a nightmare. Never in Henry’s wildest dreams had he anticipated his father’s arrest. Deep loathing coursed through him as he recalled Patrice’s statement to the police. Her oath had tied together the strange comments his father had made during their heated argument directly before the city council meeting. The bastard had been an accomplice in Isobel’s murder. He’d watched his only son suffer while he prospered, caring only for his business acquisitions. Well, Henry wasn’t another prize to be displayed before all the world. Now more than ever, he despised the man who sired him.

  A light knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

  He sucked in a deep breath and trudged to the door. “Come in,” Henry said, his voice raspy from the after-effects of smoke inhalation.

  “Henrique,” Kelly said, stepping into the semi-darkened room.

  It had nearly killed him to dial Kelly’s number. To admit he’d been wrong. To apologize for mistreating her. And worst yet, to swallow his pride and ask that she come to him.

  “She’s dead,” he said, tipping the half-empty bottle to his lips.

  Placing her designer handbag on the TV stand, she removed her atrocious fur coat and flung it onto a chair. Dressed in a short, form-fitting, red dress, she ambled toward the bed. “It’s a shame for someone so young to die,” she said, her legs grazing his kneecaps as she stood before him.

  His stomach twisted, bile forming at the base of his throat. Peering up, Henry narrowed his burning, bloodshot eyes on Kelly. He could have sworn he’d heard a hint of joy in her voice.

  Kelly lowered to her knees. “I’m here now.” She spread her open palms flat against his thighs, her fingers inching toward his crotch as she mass
aged his aching muscles. “I’m going to take good care of you.”

  A ray of light entered through the crack of the curtains, highlighting the woman who knelt at his feet. Something glimmered around the hollow of her neck.

  “Where the fuck did you get that?” Henry said and pulled Kelly’s hand from his leg.

  She released a throaty laugh. “I see someone wants to play rough.”

  Anger flared within him. Never in his life had he lifted a hand to a woman, but right now he’d like nothing more than to break Kelly’s scrawny neck. He threw the liquor bottle to the floor and roughly cupped her chin. “I asked you a question,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Ouch! You’re hurting me,” she cried. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  His large finger reached beneath the chain, snapping it from Kelly’s neck. “This,” Henry spat, swinging Victoria’s diamond and emerald heart pendant before her eyes.

  “That’s mine.” She snatched the necklace from his fingers.

  “Like hell it is.” Henry grasped Kelly by the shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “How the hell did you get Victoria’s necklace?”

  “How do you think I’ll sign a contract when I’m covered in bruises?”

  “I don’t give two shits about your fucking contract. Screw your bruises. I ought to break your fucking neck.”

  Kelly dug her long nails into his biceps, struggling to break free. “You’re scaring me,” she cried.

  “Where’d you get the necklace, Kelly?” A perverse pleasure spread through him at the rising panic in her voice.

  “I found it.”

  Henry gritted his teeth. “Don’t you mean stole it?”

  “It should have been mine.” Pure evil radiated from her dark eyes. “Just like the diamond ring Isobel stole from me.”

  He felt the color drain from his face, his breaths becoming shallow. When the authorities had found Isobel’s lifeless body, her engagement ring had been missing. He’d assumed it had been swept away with the tide.

  “Those bitches tricked you, brainwashed you into believing you loved them. Tramps—both of them.” Kelly jutted her chin out. “I’m glad they’re dead.”

  Henry’s hands fisted against his thighs, the urge to rip Kelly apart from limb to limb nearly overtaking him. “I did love them, Kelly. I loved Isobel almost as much as I love Victoria,” Henry stated.

  “No! You love me!” Kelly stamped her foot onto the rug and then threw her hands above her head, twisting a huge chunk of hair between her fingers. “I’ve invested too much time in you to allow them to take you away from me. Isobel was wearing my ring. You were supposed to ask me to be your wife—not her. She tore us apart.”

  “There was no us,” Henry answered, deadpan.

  “Yes...yes...there was! Don’t you see?” Kelly pleaded, throwing her hands against his chest, her fingernails marring him as her voice rose. “Isobel turned you against me with her lies.”

  “No,” Henry said, shaking his head.

  “That ring was mine.” Neck arched back, she stared up at him, her lips curved into a maniacal sneer. “You are mine.”

  Sickened, Henry shoved Kelly away from him, afraid that if he didn’t, he’d kill her with his bare hands. As much as Kelly’s confession pained him, he needed to hear her out.

  Air!

  His head pounding, he bounded toward the window. He needed some fucking air before he heaved. Henry threw open the hotel’s window, the ice-cold blast slapping him in the face.

  “I didn’t mean for Isobel to die,” Kelly said matter-of-factly. “It was an accident.”

  Henry spun to look at her, a shiver running down his spine. Kelly stood beside the bed, breasts jutted forward, shoulders back. Gone was the pathetically delusional nutcase from only moments ago. In her place stood a cold-blooded murderer, her eyes dark and cunning.

  Hands on her hips, Kelly sauntered toward him. “Isobel was messing with your mind. I’d only wanted to confront her, convince her that we belonged together. Imagine how lucky I felt when I found out you were too sick to walk her home after class.” She moved her palm to his cheek. “Not that I was happy that you were ill, my love. Just happy to get some time alone with the bitch. It was the perfect opportunity for us to chat. So I waited outside the college and thought maybe she’d listen to reason. But she didn’t.”

  Henry flinched, abhorred by Kelly’s touch. All those years, Isobel’s killer had been lying in my bed!

  “Isobel refused to hear me out,” Kelly said calmly. “She simply refused to give you up. In fact, Isobel threatened me. Said that she’d make certain you never spoke to me again. Well, I couldn’t let that happen. So I had no choice—I had to stop her.”

  Rage pooled within him. “How?” Henry said, bracing himself for the gruesome details.

  “I pushed her from behind. When she lost her balance, she hit her head against the stone wall,” Kelly said and then laughed. “You should have seen her, fussing and fuming over whacking her head. She’d no idea she was about to die.”

  “How the fuck did you do it?” Henry asked through gritted teeth.

  “I punched her square in the face.” Kelly smirked. “Oh, I have to give it to her. Isobel did try to fight back, but she was such a weakling. It didn’t take much to force her to the edge of the rocks.” She clapped her hands together. “Then poof! I shoved her one more time. It was so much fun to watch her hurtling into the water. I enjoyed seeing her struggle against the current as the tide battered her against the breakwater.”

  “Why did you attempt to murder Victoria? Was that an accident, too?” Henry asked sarcastically.

  “Attempted?” Kelly seethed. “You told me the bitch was dead. How could she have possibly survived? I’d made sure she’d not be able to escape.”

  The venomous statement caused him to snap. Henry lunged forward, just as the door to room 204 burst open, slamming against the wall as three armed police officers charged into the room. Guns drawn, they surrounded Kelly. “Put your hands up,” Andre ordered, his gun aimed at her chest.

  “You.” Kelly charged toward Andre. “You set me up.”

  Another officer tackled her, shoving her face first onto the rug as he ripped her arms behind her back.

  Andre braced himself on one knee beside her. “I’d no idea how very ill you were when I met you on the sidewalk.” Andre shook his head. “Now I do, and I’m going to make certain you get the help you need.”

  “Go to hell,” Kelly spit on Andre’s shoes.

  Unfazed, Andre rose from the floor, bracing his hand beneath Kelly’s arm to help her stand. Then he proceeded to read her her rights.

  “Henrique,” Kelly wailed as Andre guided her to the door. “Do something.”

  “Get her out of my sight,” Henry said coldly, and then, unable to stand the sight of her, turned his back on the scene.

  Chapter 33

  Victoria

  Through a haze of confusion, Victoria opened her eyes. A slew of corded tentacles twisted around her. Two thin, clear tubes pierced the blistered skin of her forearm. She blinked rapidly. Her vision blurry, she followed the maze of tubes, finding them connected to two fluid-filled bags. An annoying, monotonous droning sound echoed from the large piece of machinery while bright green squiggles swirled up and down on the heart monitor’s screen.

  Henry was sprawled out on a high-backed chair positioned by the bed, one arm hanging listlessly over its side. Fast asleep, he slept with his chin drooped toward his chest, rising and falling with the waves of his breaths. Bright floral arrangements cluttered the surface of a small table by the window where Jennifer slept curled up into an oversized chair, her legs tucked beneath her.

  Kelly! Terror claimed her thoughts. She had to warn them. Victoria shifted, attempting to move her body upright, and released a deathly howl.

  Henry’s eyes flew open. “Victoria!” he gasped, vaulting from the chair.

  Tears streamed down her face, burning and clouding her v
ision. “Can’t...breathe,” Victoria mouthed. Her lungs on fire, Victoria gulped, frantically fighting to fill them with air.

  Jennifer leaped from the chair. “Oh my God! Vicki!” She bolted to the emergency call button, her fingers trembling as she pressed it. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to get you some help.”

  The door banged open. “Come quick! Somebody!” Henry’s panic-stricken voice called out into the hallway.

  Pure torture ripped through Victoria’s ribcage while at the same time, spasms jolted mercilessly through her lower back. Hellish moans slipped from her lips as she clung to Jennifer’s hand. “Kel—” she gasped.

  A nurse rushed into the room with a disheveled Henry panting right behind her. “Ms. Hathaway, my name is Beverly,” she said calmly. The nurse tapped on the bottom of a tiny bottle suspended above a syringe. “This shot is going to help with the pain,” she said. Satisfied when she saw the small, clear fluid drip from the needle, the nurse placed it down and picked up an alcohol pad. Carefully, she patted it against Victoria’s upper arm.

  A woeful groan rushed through Victoria’s parted lips, her eyes huge as she stared at Nurse Beverly.

  “You’re hurting her,” Jennifer cried.

  His face ashen, Henry reached out, clasping Jennifer around the waist. “Let the nurse do her job,” he said.

  A sob resounded from Jennifer. Tears fell down her cheeks as she nodded.

  “I’m sorry. I know it hurts. Soon you’ll feel better, I promise,” Nurse Beverly said kindly.

  Within moments, the heart monitor slowed to a steady rhythm. Air filled her lungs as Victoria’s breathing relaxed. “Thirsty,” she rasped.

  “Thank you, Mr. Santana,” Nurse Beverly said as Henry picked up a pitcher of ice water from the table. She adjusted Victoria’s pillow and pulled the blanket below her chin. “Do you feel more comfortable, Ms. Hathaway?”