Fidelity Page 11

  With the shutters closed and the dawn’s early light seeping in from between the slats, we climbed our personal mountains. Time stood still, no longer demanding our attention. Getting closer to one another became our greatest need.

  Our bodies knew what our tired minds may have forgotten. We were two pieces of a whole: as I filled her, as she accommodated all of me, we fit perfectly together, like one. And like one, we moved in sync until her golden eyes closed, neck stretched, and lips formed a perfect O.

  We tasted and touched. She wasn’t the only one to be filled. Our senses were too. Our tongues feasted on the sweet concoction of bodywash mixed with the salty taste of exertion. The air around us clouded with the scent of shampoo and musk. The sounds of breathing filled our ears, becoming the melody while Charli’s moans and whimpers created the lyrics. The rhythm increased until together we stiffened. A deep, reverberating growl filled the crescendo as our dance ended, leaving my muscles slack. Contented and satiated, I caged her lovely face between my arms unwilling to move away.

  Time stood still as we clung to one another, her arms around my shoulders and my face buried in the crook of her neck. Instead of releasing me, Charli held tighter, pulling my chest against hers, flattening her breasts until our hearts found the other’s beat.

  When our eyes met, she confessed, “I haven’t felt this good or safe since I left for Savannah.”

  My lips quirked into a knowing smirk. “And after we’ve slept, your ass is mine for putting yourself in that danger.”

  The way her eyes veiled and she fidgeted her hips brought my tired dick back to life.

  “Nox?”

  I kissed her forehead. “Oh, princess, you knew it was coming.”

  Pink filled her cheeks. “When we’re rested and when I know my mother is all right.”

  “The longer you make me wait…”

  Her chin rose, bringing her confident expression to view. “Yes, Mr. Demetri, bring it on.”

  My dick twitched again.

  “Fuck.”

  As I pulled out, Charli’s smile morphed to a pout.

  “Oh, princess, sleep.” I rolled to my back and pulled her close.

  With her head on my chest, Charli said, “Whether you want to admit it or not, you are Prince Charming.”

  Stroking her still-damp hair as the scent of flowers filled my senses, I wished I was, but I wasn’t. For her I’d do my best, but I wasn’t the pure-hearted Disney prince. I knew evil.

  I also knew that she did too. I’d stared him in the face earlier tonight when he entered the room at the police station. He’d been unhappy with my answer, sure that I’d take his offer. Not only didn’t I take it, I pushed him on showing the video footage of the mansion—of him manhandling Charli into the car. By the time the detective returned, the video footage was no longer available and the charges were dropped.

  I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Alton Fitzgerald was done with me, but I took the opportunity to leave Savannah.

  As Charli’s breathing began to even, I whispered, “No, I’m not Prince Charming. I’m Batman.”

  She rolled into me, wrapping her soft leg over mine. With the sunlight that was peeking through the slats of the blinds, I watched her cheeks rise just before she fell sound asleep.

  I BLINKED MY eyes, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. It was as if each time I opened my eyes, the scene was different.

  I scanned the room, careful not to move my head, apprehensive of where I was or who was watching. From what I could see, once again I was in a room I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t my suite at Montague Manor, nor was it the blue walls of hell. Slowly, I turned my head. The movement hurt. Not my head—it wasn’t a migraine—but instead it was my body. Everything hurt.

  Each breath tugged at my midsection as if I were wearing something tight—a bodice? I couldn’t comprehend the pressure or pain, but with it my breathing came faster and shallower. Each breath hurt more than the last.

  Biting my lip, I consciously slowed my respiration. Again closing my eyes, I tried to remember what had happened. There were sporadic recollections, but nothing with enough detail to fill in the blanks. The memories were a hodgepodge of faces and voices. Past and present intertwined and interspersed until chronological order ceased to exist. Putting it together was like making sense of a mound of puzzle pieces that could create a thousand separate finished pictures. The sizes were too similar—their appearance, scent, and even the feel of them in my hand. I couldn’t possibly decipher which one belonged to which puzzle.

  What was recent? What was past?

  I recalled Jane. She’d been with me in that terrible blue room. My pulse thumped in my veins, accentuated by beeps, as our conversation came back. She’d said something about Alexandria, that her presence hadn’t been a dream. Having my daughter near me wasn’t what had upset me. It was when she’d said something about Bryce Spencer and Alexandria’s engagement party.

  My eyes snapped open again.

  I wasn’t sure where I was, but I needed to stop Alexandria from marrying Bryce. It wasn’t right. Though I’d asked her to do it numerous times, I couldn’t let her sacrifice her life as I had mine. My parents had encouraged me to do what was needed for Montague, but now that I knew the truth, I wouldn’t do that to my daughter. I’d been wrong to try. She deserved a better life than what I had.

  I remembered the codicil. She didn’t need to. Alexandria could be free as I never had been, as Alton had never wanted her to know.

  A sense of relief came over me at the clarity that accompanied my thoughts. They were more precise than they’d been in ages, and yet I still had glimpses of the past.

  Oren, to be exact.

  It had been years since I’d seen him and yet it seemed as if it were more recent. Had it been my dreams? In that terrible blue place, I’d dreamt about him. Not only had he been my refuge for a short time in life, but apparently he also would be forever in my subconscious.

  The beeps increased as I contemplated Alexandria. I needed to call her. I needed to move. I painfully twisted my body from side to side. First, I needed to sit. Squinting my eyes, I searched for the buttons to raise my bed. My hand rose, seeking the controls. It was then I realized it wasn’t bound. Had I imagined that? Had someone really restrained me?

  My fingers fumbled for the railing.

  Wherever I was, I was still in a hospital bed.

  As I searched for the button, I noticed the large window to my left. The room around me was bright, filled with light—not just light but sunshine. It was yet another clue that I was out of the terrible place. In that horrible blue room the drapes had always been closed.

  “Ms. Montague?”

  I turned toward the woman’s voice.

  Was this heaven, what I’d prayed for? Had God finally granted my wish and changed my name in the process?

  Tears filled my eyes, spilling over onto my cheeks as both relief and grief swirled through me.

  If this was heaven, my life was over. I was dead.

  I recalled the pills. Death had been my wish, what I’d planned. In death I would no longer need to fight… but I wanted to fight. Alexandria needed me to fight.

  “No,” I begged, though my words were garbled. “I can’t be here. I need to help my daughter.”

  The woman stepped closer. She had the shining dark eyes and kind smile of an angel. There were no wings. Was that a misconception? Were they reserved for the Victoria Secret models?

  “Ma’am, did you speak?”

  I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry.

  “Water?”

  In a few seconds my angel was back with a cup and a straw. Pushing the button to lift me to a sitting position, she placed the straw at my dry lips. Before I drank, I sucked in a deep breath at the movement of the bed.

  “Yes,” the angel said, “I’m sorry. You’re going to be sore.”

  “Sore?” I was sore in heaven?

  She encouraged me to drink. “Drink s
lowly. Only a little. We need to take it easy. Your stomach hasn’t been accustomed to anything for a while.”

  I nodded as I sucked and listened, enjoying her gentle tone.

  When she pulled the straw away, she smiled. “Ms. Montague, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Eva Rossi, your doctor.”

  “M-my doctor?” I tried to recall. Dr. Beck was my doctor and then the other one… Dr. Mills or Miller. I couldn’t remember. “You’re not an angel?”

  She laughed a joyous melody. “No, thank goodness, we kept you here on Earth with us for a little while longer.”

  As she checked the monitors, I truly looked at the room around me. It was beautiful with beige walls and lovely woodwork. There were wooden shutters over the large windows, opened slightly, allowing sunshine to enter between the slats. There was even another bed, a big one and chairs. It was a suite, not like any hospital room I’d ever seen. When she came back around to me and nodded, I asked, “Where am I?”

  “Ma’am, I think I’ll let your husband explain that to you.”

  The beeps near my bed accelerated. “My husband? Where has he taken me? What’s happening?”

  Dr. Rossi reached again for my hand. “Ms. Montague, no. I’m sorry. I know you’re not married. It was our story. I’ll let him explain. Before I get the others, who I’m certain will be happy to see you awake and talking, can I ask you some questions?”

  “My husband brought me here?”

  “No, not really. How are you feeling?”

  I took a deep breath and winced. “I hurt.” Although I did, a smile crept over my face. I was talking. My mind and lips were working together in a way they hadn’t done in what seemed like weeks. I went on, “I’m sure you know from my records that I have a history of migraines, but it isn’t my head that hurts.” I tilted my head toward the windows. “Even the sunshine isn’t bothering me. It’s my sides, my ribs. They’re tight.”

  “Ma’am, what do you remember?”

  I pursed my lips, trying to fill in the blanks. “I was talking to Jane. That’s the last thing I remember… Oh, they made her leave.”

  “Jane? Was she someone at Magnolia Woods?”

  I scrunched my nose. I’d heard that name before. “I’m not sure what that is, but it sounds familiar. No, Jane is my…” I suddenly worried what had happened when they made her leave my room. “…she’s my friend. I want her. Can she come here?”

  The doctor shrugged. “I’m sure she can.”

  I shifted on the bed. “My mind seems clearer.”

  “Clearer than…?”

  I shook my head, recalling the memories of Oren. “I think I was hallucinating or recalling a time long ago, but now things aren’t as fuzzy.”

  “That’s very good to hear,” she said as she reached for her phone and typed. “I’m also not surprised you don’t recall anything more recent. That’s very common.”

  “More recent?” I asked. “What happened?”

  “Ma’am, during transport from Georgia, your heart stopped.”

  From Georgia? My heart?

  “I-I… I’m not in Georgia?” I reached for my chest. “My heart. I died?”

  Dr. Rossi’s smile widened. “You’re here. There are different definitions of clinical death. While your heart stopped, your brain continued to work. We shocked your heart and performed CPR; that’s why you’re sore.”

  It was so much to comprehend. “This is real? If I’m not in Georgia, where am I?”

  The door opened. In that second, my reality and fantasy collided. Dreams became real as the most handsome blue eyes I’d ever known met mine. In less time than could register, his expression went from urgency to adoration and finally to anguish.

  “O-Oren?” His name fell from my lips as I prayed I wasn’t hallucinating.

  Hesitantly he took a step toward the bed. He seemed real. The doctor was still there, but then he asked her to leave us. His deep voice reverberated through the suite. I sighed as Dr. Rossi answered him, confirming he wasn’t in my mind.

  She answered questions and nodded toward me. Their words weren’t registering as I fought to understand and then the door shut and we were alone.

  “Amore mio, I’m sorry.”

  My sore chest clenched, not only at his endearment, but also at hearing the voice I hadn’t heard in years. Just as it always had, the timbre rumbled like thunder from his lips to my soul.

  “Oren, is this real? Are you really here? Where am I?”

  He took another step closer and stilled. In his characteristic gestures, he motioned about the room. “It’s not what you’re used to, but this is my home.”

  I tried to comprehend. “Your home? I haven’t seen you—”

  He came closer, each step slower than the one before as if he were afraid I would tell him to leave. “I’ve seen you,” he said, “every night in my dreams, every night since we parted.”

  I again looked about the suite. “H-how did I get here?”

  “I took you.”

  I tried to swallow. “T-took me? Why?”

  “Adelaide, you don’t have to stay with me. I just couldn’t let that monster…” His hands balled to fists at his side. “…Alexandria… you almost…” His strong, confident demeanor fought to overtake his emotions as his words came in fragments. “I-I know you told me to leave… I respected your wishes… I understand that you hate me… You should… I just… I’ve told you…” He took another step closer. “Once I love, I can’t stop. Those I love, I must protect.”

  Tears streamed from my eyes as each of his declarations twisted my heart. The man I’d loved since the first time I met him teetered before me on the balls of his feet.

  During our affair he’d been a powerful man in his own right. I presumed he still was. Yet at this moment he was waiting for me, giving me what no man had ever given me, the power to make or break him—us.

  I couldn’t move or speak as I took in the handsome face of the only man who’d ever loved me unconditionally. He’d aged, but each year had only made him better looking. Now in blue jeans and a button-down shirt, with more salt in his dark hair than pepper, he was still the same man who’d made me laugh, smile, and love.

  I shook my head. “No, Oren. I never hated you.”

  He lowered his chin. “You should.”

  I lifted my hand, beckoning him closer. As we touched a renewed surge of energy zapped through me. “I didn’t hate you. I hated me. I told you to leave because I didn’t want you to waste your life with me, asking for what I couldn’t give.”

  Releasing our touch, he lowered the railing and sat beside me. Reaching again for my hand, he kissed my knuckles, his warm lips reigniting the spark he’d lit long ago, decades ago, at a Christmas party. “I did what you said. I left, but amore mio, I never stopped loving you.”

  “You deserve so much more.” I tilted my face toward the warmth of his palm as he caressed my cheek.

  “No. I never deserved you. I still don’t, but I can’t fight it anymore. I kidnapped you.”

  My eyes widened. “Kidnapped me?”

  He nodded. “We stole you from Magnolia Woods.”

  “Is that where I was? That terrible place?”

  “Yes.”

  Memories came and went. “There was an awful person. I can’t remember much, but he scared me.”

  “He’ll never hurt you again. No one will.”

  I bristled at his words. “What about…” I didn’t want to say his name; however, honesty between Oren and I had always been our strength. “…Alton?”

  Oren’s shoulders widened. “Leave him for good. He almost killed you. You can’t deny it. We have medical proof.”

  My chin fell forward. Shame and disgust veiled my vision as I refused to look into the blue eyes I adored. I’d allowed everything that happened. I’d willingly married Alton Fitzgerald. I’d stayed with him despite his vile ways. Sitting with Oren, I didn’t want to remember the beatings or belittling. I’d been too weak to leave. The only strength I’d s
hown was for Alexandria, but even that hadn’t been enough. I didn’t hate Oren for what he’d done, but I was certain my daughter hated me for what she perceived I hadn’t done.

  Oren lifted my chin. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but let me explain. According to a hair follicle test we recently ran, a few months ago your alcohol and opioid use increased significantly. Yet according to the records from your doctor, he didn’t increase your prescription. He had months before, but the levels in your blood exceeded all that had been prescribed. Our people traced a connection between one of the staff members at Montague and a local drug dealer.”

  “What? Who?”

  “OxyContin is a synthetic opioid, chemically similar to the Vicodin your doctor prescribed for your migraines. I’m not a chemist, but we’ve had doctors working on this. By giving that to you, it appeared as though you were overusing your Vicodin. The OxyContin is much stronger. Its use has similar side effects as a Vicodin overdose. When combined with alcohol, especially in large amounts, the result can be lethal.”

  The small bit of water I’d drunk sloshed about my otherwise empty stomach as his words seeped into my consciousness.

  “You’re saying I didn’t do this to myself. It was done to me?”

  Oren nodded. “Unless you tell me otherwise.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t remember. I recall trying to cut back on wine. I even stopped drinking the white during the day. I wouldn’t even have a glass until…” I recalled Alton’s newfound attention in the evening, spending time in our suite before dinner. “…oh my God.”

  He again caressed my cheek. “Do you see why I needed to save you?”

  “But how? How would you know?”

  “It’s a long story. Let’s just say it involves many more people.”

  “Who?” I asked. “Who was the Montague staff member?” I’d lived my entire life at Montague. I knew from experience that the staff was sycophantic to Alton’s every wish, but this was different. Who would assist in poisoning me?

  “A Brantley Peterson.”

  Tears again formed. “Brantley purchased drugs?”

  “That’s what the connection said.”