ENVY Deceptive Desires #1 (Romantic Suspense)

by Amarie Avant

  As Liam reclined on the blue sectional in the den, he spoke into the Bluetooth. “Run it.”

  “I thought you'd say as much. I'm pretty sure there was a rival magazine around. If the photos are posted on their end, you look good ...”

  The chief editor at Scandalous seemed reluctant. It was in their nature to want to know the underlying story. The truth. And shit, the truth was written all over Liam's face on the captured photo. He'd been washed with emotion, anger, worry, the way he held her was nurturing.

  They hung up. He considered calling Vincent. Something about the botched robbery didn't sit right. Normally, Liam wasn’t advised when he was featured in his own magazine. There were always events, galas, and some sort of grand opening. None of which he cared about. But the chief editor had also wanted to know the story behind Raven. Him and Raven.

  Liam was captivated by the photos of him holding her. Raven got hurt. She was in shock. A frown set in concrete on his face. Security never caught the guy. But should I resort to utilizing Vincent? On the other hand, every act against the Delacroix family was weighted the same.

  Rubbing the stubble on his chin, Liam again glanced at the photo which would make for a good hero storyline. The fear in Raven’s eyes made him make the call.

  He scrolled through his contacts for a number which wasn't even impenetrable by the Feds.

  “I wondered how long it would take you to call,” Vincent said, after answering at the first ring. “You finally ready for a security team?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “Nobody will know. You're a billion dollars walking. If you get kidnapped, you're worth even more.”

  Disregarding that statement, Liam said, “Look into it. Don't tell Pierre.”

  Vincent scoffed. “You assume we’d have waited for your call had he been made aware? He's traveling the Amazon. Out of sync. You're good.”

  Liam took a deep breath.

  “Handle it, or take more orders?”

  Liam knew exactly what he meant. There's only been one time in his life when Vincent fully “handled” the situation. Liam had been in college. The shoddy story revolved around a gold digger. He hadn't made a request, but there was no other choice, no inquiry for further orders. There’d been blood, but no blood on his hands. With Vincent, death sentences were signed.

  Hands balled into fists, Liam said, “Handle it.”

  “Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

  Liam took a breath. “I need another favor.”

  A sound which could only be Royael clamoring down the steps made him end the call. He was going to tell Vincent to find Lucinda, but Royael bounded into the room, thick ponytails bouncing. She was dressed in Hello Kitty pajamas, and if he weren't so overwhelmed, he'd tell her to slow down.

  What if Elise had requested Vincent handle Lucinda? Regardless of employment contracts and ironclad clauses, maids knew much. But if Vincent didn't, bringing the woman into the mix might—

  Royael jumped onto his lap with full force. She smelled of fresh soap and baby oil. His heart constricted. Besides the scrapbooks Raven made, he didn't know his only child's infancy.

  “You ready for me to read to you?”

  “Yup! You and Mommy!” Her bright eyes sparkled.

  Not one to tell his daughter no, Liam pouted. “But I want to read to you tonight. Mommy read to you yesterday.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  As they stepped out of the room and walked upstairs, Liam cursed Raven’s independence. He'd suggested she quit the job at the coffee shop a while ago.

  Liam glanced at the Hello Kitty clock in Royael’s new bedroom. An interior decorator had transformed it to suit her Hello Kitty fetish. From the bed and comforter, dresser, night light, even the electronic blinds on the glass wall had been exchanged for a custom Hello Kitty one. He glanced at the clock in two to three-minute increments as Royael jumped on her bed. She had a clean and fluffed Mookie in one hand, and excitedly repeated the words Liam read from her favorite book.

  “You skipped a page.” She plopped down next to him.

  “I thought you’d rather jump,” he replied, turning back a page. Straining, he squeaked the female character’s voice. Every time he flipped through the goodnight story, he stared at the clock. Raven should’ve been home by now—well, not really home, but back. Maybe she went to see Stephen after school and work. When he’d stay over to tuck Royael in bed, Monday had always been her free day.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said when the doorbell rang. He walked out of her room, hurried down the steps, and to the front door.

  “Hi.” Raven walked past him and toward the hallway closet.

  He watched as she pulled off a new puffy jacket, rain dropping on the wood floor. She kicked off knee-high boots and tossed them in after the jacket, then closed the door. He opened his mouth to mention the disarray, but thought better of it. “We left you some dinner on the counter.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Did you go out?” He winced while following her up the stairs, having not meant to ask that. His eyes zeroed in on how tightly she clasped her purse with the strap over her shoulder and the leather part tucked under her elbow. Did she just rob a bank?

  She turned around on the landing and smiled. “No, I went to see Granny. I ate icky hospital food.”

  “I’m going to put Royael to bed. When you get a chance, I made your spare key. It’s in the office.”

  Without a word, she ascended the staircase. Liam forced himself not to stare. He didn’t believe a single word that passed those sexy heart-shaped lips, but he wasn’t in the position to call her out.

  Chapter 17

  The flowery wallpaper was covered by tacked-up five-year-old drawings. It added comfort to Annette’s room at the rehabilitating nursing home. A week before, she'd been transferred from the hospital for continued recovery and therapy.

  Sanford and Son was on the TV while Red Fox exaggerated a heart attack. With a chuckle, Annette shook her head and grabbed the remote to mute the show.

  “Girl, what's with all these deep breaths and sighing and carrying on?” she asked Raven.

  “Granny, I've gotta tell you something.”

  “You and Liam have eloped?”

  Her pupils almost popped. “How much of that crazy old fool are you listening to?” Raven glared at Fred. When she was younger, she'd laughed her ass off while watching the show with her grandparents. She wanted to smile; he had that effect.

  “Well, what is it?” Annette fluffed her puffy hair, mentioning a senior citizen with a head full of hair across the hall.

  “Granny, stop. I thought you only had eyes for Idris Alba.” Raven laughed.

  “Tell me this news that has you moping around.”

  She sat tall. “Our house has burned down.”

  Annette chuckled. “I thought you were going to tell me something interesting.”

  “Granny—”

  “ReRe, you and my precious little grandchild are fine? I'm fine.” She waved her questioning away. “Our family has climbed mountains; this isn't even a mole hill.”

  “But Grandpa—”

  “Your grandpa is—” Annette pointed to her chest “—right there. Your mother told me already. ReRe, I will be so glad when you stop holding things in or trying to carry more than your burdens.”

  Raven didn't hear a single word of wisdom, because Charlene peeked into the room. Sharon had played her. Her grandma had too, by inviting Charlene.

  Charlene placed her finger to her lip, mouthing shhh, then steered the stroller over to the sliding glass window on the far side of the wall. She pulled up the stroller umbrella to shield Trinity from the sunlight, then gave her mom a hug. “Hey, Mama.”

  “My baby.” Annette patted Charlene’s face.

  “Mama, I’m so sorry ….” Throat constricting, Charlene’s voice broke.

  “Stop apologizing. I’m not mad. You’re my daughter, I love you.”

  “I’m the reason you’re here.�
�

  “I’m getting old. You know that. Raven, she doesn’t want to know it, but I am.” Annette patted her hand. “Don’t tell her you’re sorry anymore. She’s not that type of girl. Do you want to work through your issues with Grumpy?” Annette added emphasis to the nickname while smiling at Raven. It had been years since she'd been called Grumpy.

  “All right, Granny, I didn't put Royael to bed last night. And now I see why you preferred I didn’t bring her this late. But I'm getting tired, okay.” Raven kissed Annette. Ignoring Charlene, she walked to the stroller and peered at the sleeping baby. Finally, giving her mother the stink-eye, she said, “I missed my little sister.”

  “Wow, I’ve been here a whole week.” Annette smirked as Raven silently rubbed her baby sister’s cheek. “I was beginning to think y’all organized a plan to visit me at a different time.”

  Scraping against the floor broke the silence as Raven scooted the visitor chair away from Charlene’s. Annette rubbed at the annoyance in her eardrum. “Both of y’all need to rest.”

  “What are you talking about, Mama? I’ve been on break from the show for a while now.”

  “And I had to take last semester off school.” Raven rolled her eyes at Charlene. “Thank God Liam came around. I’m catching up on classes.”

  “I don’t mean a physical rest. I mean a spiritual rest. God don’t want y’all to go through life suffering. Char, you’re having trouble with your marriage, and you—” Annette turned her attention to her grandchild “—you’re just as angry and unforgiving as you were the day Liam left you pregnant.”

  Raven huffed.

  “How did you know about Damien and I?” Charlene mumbled, eyes worried.

  Raven gave her mother an incredulous look. The star’s sexy Deceptive Desires costar, Miguel Sanchez, was smack dab on the center of every gossip magazine with Charlene at his side. The headlines were raving that five months after giving birth, she was back to her slim seductress physique. There were magazines scattered down the hall, and all of Anette’s friends were gossiping about it. While fans across the nation hoped that where there was smoke, there was fire, Raven felt bad for Charlene. She felt worse for Damien.

  Raven started to stand. “Granny, I think I’m—”

  “Raven, I’m not done with you.”

  She plopped back into her seat.

  “Char, Damien is too confident of a man to play into the snare of some trashy magazine. Now, ReRe, I’m a little over the attitude today. You have always been smart to respect your elders, but you can’t avoid your mother. And Liam is a whole ’nother subject entirely. Let me tell you something, chile, you can forgive him. Every time I see Royael running around learning something new, dancing and looking so beautiful in pageants or recitals, I just think, he’s missed out. That’s something he’s going to have to forgive himself for. Besides, God doesn’t need no help judging. Put your faith in God that Liam has come back for a reason.”

  “He didn’t come back, I went and got him.”

  “Chile, I’m an inch away from making you grab a switch off a tree. I’m feeling strong enough to swat them legs! Liam could be signing a check every month and putting it in the mail, but he wants to be with you and Royael. Why would he let you move in after the fire?”

  “I didn’t move in.” Raven spoke quickly, trying not to incriminate herself, though she was doing a helluva bad job. Licking her lips, and slowing her tone, she added, “I’ve been there for only seven days.”

  “Okay, Grumps, whatever you say. I swear Otis was the only one that could knock some sense into your hardheaded behind.” With shaky fist, Annette grumbled. Nerves settling, she looked back and forth between her family. “I want both of y’all to do something for me.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “Yes, Granny.”

  “Get up and hug one another. Forgive and forget.”

  They both stood.

  Raven wrung her fingers, then shook her head, staring at the ceiling before she rushed out of the door. “Sorry, Granny.”

  As she walked through the dimly-lit parking lot, Raven’s head fell back. She sighed deeply. Then she dug into her purse for the anxiety pills Dr. Stanton had given her. She barely took the darn things, but decided that day was as good as any to start taking them religiously.

  Chapter 18

  Delacroix Headquarters, Paris, France

  Elise sat on a Napoleon armchair in an office that could have very well been an Egyptian king’s tomb. The room was more like a vault of expensive antiques. Pierre had sponsored or led expeditions across the globe, discovering priceless antiques. An Aubusson rug decked the floors. Fabergé eggs were encased at focal areas.

  “Papa, please!” Emerald eyes wide, she looked at her reflection in his gold nameplate.

  Her jewels-for-eyes always worked like magic, yet his spine was rigid, and his expensive veneers gritted. “I won’t listen to you infer that Jonathan is a good man!”

  “He’s in that house all alone and—” I’ve done awful things to my husband.

  “That mansion I had built for you? I procured all of his clients. You need to appreciate the fact that he’s still breathing. I transferred a hundred million dollars in an account to get rid of Raven Shaw. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to strategize before attempting to take it. Sign the divorce papers. I’ve more pertinent issues to manage, because now she’s back!”

  “Raven’s back?” Elise’s voice quivered. She hadn’t kept tabs on her son since he’d left for college. Her brain flashed to the last time she’d seen him. He was eighteen and stubborn.

  “Raven’s back …” Then why hasn’t Liam called me. I don’t even have his phone number.

  “Do not reiterate my words!” Chest deflated, he looked her in the eyes and in a calmer tone, said, “I love you more than life itself.”

  Understanding how Pierre felt, despite the disappointment in his eyes, she nodded. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

  “Jonathan is exactly where he’s meant to be at the moment—in his own personal hell. He’s got just enough funds to sit there and shut the fuck up. Or he has the option of signing his own death certificate by crossing me.”

  Elise's lips trembled. Vincent. He loved her, that she knew of. But if Pierre gave the order, Vincent had to do his bidding. And Vincent was most efficient.

  “My dear daughter, you must always think of Delacroix first. The disgrace of this scandal being exposed is irreparable … Jonathan being both of their fathers.”

  “Yes, Papa.” Elise tried to keep her eyes on her Pierre’s to solidify the lie. Though her brain continued to think of Zane Anderson and how she’d tricked Jonathan.

  Outside about twenty minutes later, Elise slipped into the back of the Maybach Landaulet. The car lurched forward as she noticed a letter with perfect script next to her. She read it. Her thin lips formed a hard line as she crumpled the paper in her fist, knowing exactly where the car was headed.

  No, not as she suspected. The car turned down the wrong street. Her eyebrows rose as the driver pulled into Delacroix’s first hotel. It had been the only possession Papa owned before marrying Mama. For decades, the historic hotel had been in shambles. Pierre had put the failing money of his communications company, which was built around a fading newspaper business, into a historic hotel he purchased through a gamble.

  No, Pierre got his hands on Estella’s money, restoring the hotel to its grand state and striking fortune in other endeavors. And then he redirected his family communication business to include television and magazines.

  Her phone vibrated in her Prada, twill blazer. Her eyes widened and pooled with more tears at the text message.

  Mother, call me at your convenience. Love, Liam.

  Just then, the door opened. I’ll call back soon. Hands trembling, she placed the phone back in her pocket and slid out of the car. The message would pacify the annoyance of this unscheduled stop.

  Strutting inside a marble-and-gold-trimmed lobby, Elise was greeted b
y name. Pulling on the pearl button of her blouse, she stood in the elevator, headed for the top floor. Walking down the hall of exclusive suites, she took in the carved moldings on the walls before knocking at the door. It opened, and Elise stared at a peridot-beaded gown that made her mama’s eyes twinkle.

  “Took you long enough,” Estella said. Her popular Stellar perfume seized Elise’s lungs.

  “Papa just told me you were staying here. And then I got the letter which ordered me here.” No affectionate greeting needed, she passed over the threshold. Her parents were separated. Usually Mama stayed at the Chateau de Estella in Burgundy, France. Why is Mama staying here? For years, she’s hated all things Delacroix.

  “I thought that twit kept my name out of his mouth. Oh, I was obliged to send the letter. You wouldn't have visited, being that you’re on the same team as that turkey-stuffed, silicone man! And I didn't want you believing yourself important enough to be abducted if I forced you here without warning.” Estella poured a martini at the crystal mini bar.

  “Where’s your staff? Surely you don’t serve yourself or open your own doors?” Elise matched her terseness, taking a sip of the drink that was curtly handed over. They got along in two-minute segments. She’d been there for a little over that; it was flight time. “Please refrain from enlightening me about how you must’ve learned to cleanse your own derrière.”

  “Sit down!” Estella commanded, taking a seat across from her daughter. The floral bouquet on the coffee table lost the war against the Stellar fragrance. “You travel all around the world. Nevertheless, I have to send a note to get you to visit your own mama.”

  “I would have gotten around to visiting … eventually.”

  “Sure.” With a devilish smile, she added, “I suppose that’s where Liam gets it from. He can be so kindhearted, and then just like you, ready to throw family at the wayside. Everyone but Pierre.”

  Elise rolled her eyes.