Fidelity (Infidelity) (Volume 5) Page 12

  “That’s what the connection said.”

  “That’s what you meant about his trying to kill me? Alton drugged me?”

  Oren sat back. “Is there more?”

  I shook my head. “Everything has been fuzzy for weeks. I don’t remember.” I looked up to his caring blue eyes, swirling with questions. “Do you believe what you just said? Do you believe that I wasn’t drinking as much, that even though the tests say otherwise, this wasn’t my doing?”

  “With all my heart.”

  I took as deep of a breath as I could. Pushing past the pain, I let his answer sink in.

  He believed me.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  “Because I had the opportunity to help you and you didn’t tell me no.”

  The tips of my lips moved upward. “I couldn’t tell you anything in the state I was in.” I squeezed his hand. “Though we spoke often.”

  His blue eyes silently questioned me, perhaps my sanity.

  “Reality has been bad,” I began. “I don’t even remember that much of it. But when I’d fall asleep, I’d go back to the one time in my life when I was happy.” I lifted his hand again to my face, relishing the warmth against my cheek. “I went back to you.”

  Oren leaned forward. “I want to kiss you.”

  “Kiss me?”

  “Last chance, Adelaide. Say no, or it’s going to happen and once it does, I’m never letting you go again.”

  I swallowed. “I-I remember something—my father’s will. I’d finally learned something that I’d never been meant to know.”

  “Yes, the codicil.”

  I leaned back. “How do you know this?”

  “Because I do. Now you can leave him. Even without it, I wanted you to leave him. Now you can walk away and the future isn’t up to him; it’s up to you.”

  “Me?”

  “Amore mio, the kiss?”

  My eyes opened wide. “Oh! Oren, I want that kiss, but first I need to reach Alexandria.”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  I couldn’t comprehend. Looking to the sunshine, I asked, “Sleeping? Where are we?”

  “We’re in New York and so is she. Last night was long. She’s sleeping down the hall.”

  “Wait? She’s here in your home?”

  He leaned toward me. “Adelaide, I’ve only ever professed my love to two women. I’m not a man who can walk away. I have you here and I can’t wait any longer. Tell me no or I’m going to kiss you.”

  My memory went back to a seedy motel outside of Savannah and I smiled. “Kiss me?”

  “Yes,” he said with a grin. “I’ve spent the last months—no, amore mio, the last years—remembering your taste and the feel of your lips against mine. You’re so close. I’m losing control. I need to know if my memory is close to reality. Say no.”

  I lifted my lips near his. “Never have I wanted to say yes more.”

  As our lips touched, Oren’s presence gave me hope for the future. I didn’t know what would happen with Alton, but I knew in my soul that without Oren’s intervention, I wouldn’t be clearheaded, my heart wouldn’t be full, and the man I’d loved more than any other wouldn’t be holding me in his arms.

  THE LAST FEW weeks created a drowning sense of exhaustion. Being with Nox, in his arms, was the haven I desired most. Totally spent, I expected to sleep for hours. I expected rest and rejuvenation. That wasn’t what either of us found. From the moment we finally closed our eyes, our rest was anything but peaceful.

  Over and over dreams interrupted the serenity of Nox’s embrace. I’d wake, my body tossing and turning. Screams that were supposed to be hidden by the cloak of sleep became audible, echoing throughout the bedroom and waking us both. Perhaps it was the sense of security I had while with Nox. My mind told me that feeling safe shouldn’t bring out my fears, but it did. Each time my eyes closed, the floodgate opened, washing me away.

  While in Savannah, I’d kept my personal concerns suppressed, concentrating on my momma and her health. Selfishly, lying in Nox’s arms, my night terrors weren’t about my mother. She was safe, as safe as she could be. The nurse promised that she was through the worst. After all, what could be worse than death?

  Each time my eyes closed, the scenes were personal—much more personal.

  Though Alton and Suzanna weren’t without blame, costarring as villains in my dreams—or were they nightmares?—their physical slaps were but blips on the radar compared to the fear evoked by Bryce. On Friday night at Montague Manor, he’d morphed before my eyes and now he was doing it again, this time in my sleep.

  My childhood friend was gone. I saw him for the monster he was. Figurative claws became real as I surrendered to his tightening grip upon my knee. I shuddered, meeting his cold eyes as excruciating pain radiated from his vicious grasp. His smile chilled my blood as he looked toward his mother, forcing my lies of love and devotion.

  Streaks of pain emitted through my nervous system until I’d wake, certain it wasn’t Nox beside me but Bryce. Even the millisecond of believing that Bryce was in my bed set my heart to hammering against my breastbone and accelerated my breathing.

  The woodsy scent of Nox’s cologne mixed with the musk of our union would then lull me back to sleep until other scenes infiltrated my night.

  The waves lapped the shore, creating a rhythm. The hand holding mine was strong and protective. I stared up at the light blue eyes as Nox and I strolled along the beach in Rye. My flat shoes morphed, their heels growing. I stumbled, each step more difficult as my shoes slid upon the pebbles. When I looked up from our intertwined fingers, the eyes were no longer swirled with love, but were infused with contempt.

  As my heart again thundered, I tried to pull away from the now-iron grip. The scene had changed, erasing the beach as the song of waves faded into the mist and sadistic laughter rang in my ears. The laughter wasn’t for me, but for the other person with us. Bryce’s grip vibrated as he laughed at the desperation of his whore.

  “Run,” I whispered to Chelsea. She couldn’t, paralyzed not by Bryce’s grip as I was, but by his stare.

  I searched for the house, for Nox, or even Oren. They were gone. Chelsea, Bryce, and I were back in Chelsea’s room at Montague Manor. My stomach lurched at the whack of Bryce’s knuckles as his hand left mine and collided with Chelsea’s cheek. The sickening crack reverberated against the walls mere seconds before she crumpled to the floor.

  I fell to the ground by her side, but the room was gone. My best friend was upon the floor, no longer in Savannah, but in our apartment in Palo Alto, her face battered. Though I reached for her, I wasn’t actually there; I was simply a bystander—a voyeur. My screams went unheard as a perpetrator rolled Chelsea’s body over and moved her hair from her face. His head shook as recognizable sadistic laughter only momentarily stalled his abuse. Just before resuming his attack, he muttered, “Wrong one.”

  I woke with a start, knowing his voice. I’d known it all of my life.

  Hugging the man I loved, I pushed the thoughts away. They weren’t real. They weren’t memories. I’d been in New York when Chelsea was attacked. I hadn’t seen it. It was my mind playing tricks on me.

  She was safe, like my momma. Slowly, sleep resumed and so did the dreams.

  Tension filled the Georgia night as my shoes slid upon the damp grass.

  It wasn’t Chelsea paralyzed by Bryce’s cold eyes: it was me. I tried again to wake, to find Nox, but no one was near. Alton had gone to his office and Suzanna had bid us goodnight.

  When had I looked to either of them for help? And yet in my desperation, I was.

  Bryce’s words cut through the autumn air, his touch a jolt of dread diving deep to the pit of my stomach as my mind shifted from concern to panic. No longer in Rye, I was back in Savannah. What had I done? Why had I gone back?

  The dread leached through me, from my stomach to my heart, and I knew what I hadn’t the time before. I knew that this time I couldn’t stop him.

  “Darli
ng, I’m getting off with you tonight, in your mouth, on your tits, or inside your cunt, I don’t care. It’s happening.”

  The contents of my stomach lurched upward as I managed my reply, “Why?”

  His initial response was without words, each answer turning my body to stone. Gentle at first, he brushed his thumb against my lips. The squeeze of my breast was harder, but it was the way he grabbed my core that registered as violation as well as pain. My heart thumped against my chest as his erection probed my stomach.

  “Do you need to ask? You asked me to ‘take it out on you.’ Your wish is my command, darling. Over there, by the tennis courts… I’m going to take it out.”

  His iron grip pulled me across the wet lawn. I pleaded, called out to Nox; I said no. I proclaimed and then begged. I reminded him of our childhood friendship while digging my heels into the grass. I silently pleaded with myself to wake.

  Bryce’s voice was ice, freezing my will with the cold, hard reality. My pleas wouldn’t help me. They did the opposite, fueling his power and need for control. My childhood friend was a monster whose only concern was his own desire. He was a psychopath and his words were but the prelude to my future.

  “Wrong,” he said. “You want it. Say you do.”

  “Please, Bryce.”

  “Close. Begging is acceptable. Now, tell me you want me to take you. No, tell me you want me to fuck you. Come on, darling. No, I know! Tell me that you want to fuck me and you’ll do it better than my whore.”

  “No!” My shouts were no longer contained to my dreams. They echoed through the room, waking both Nox and me.

  Nox pulled me close to his chest. The woodsy scent settled in my senses, replacing the aroma of the damp Savannah night air. With time, my breathing slowed as his steady heartbeat calmed my own. With both of us fully awake, he rolled me to my back. Hovering above me, he brushed his lips over mine. “I’m only going to ask you this once, but princess, I need you to be honest.”

  Closing my eyes, I nodded. It hadn’t been our first awakening of the night. Nox wanted honesty. I’d give it, even if it meant he’d hate me.

  “What’s your name?”

  My eyes blinked at his strange question.

  “Alexandria.”

  He kissed my nose. “You’re my Charli and you always will be.”

  His words washed through me, so simple and yet so poignant.

  “Did he do more than kiss you?”

  How to answer that? I took a deep breath and swallowed my tears. “Yes.”

  Nox’s body hardened as every muscle tensed. In the dim morning light, the bulging vein in his forehead pulsated. His lips pressed together as emotion emanated from his every pore, momentarily souring the air between us. I tried to look away, but his contrasting tone kept my eyes on him.

  “Was it consensual, more diversion, like the kiss?”

  I shook my head and lowered my chin to my chest.

  “Tell me.” The control he was exercising was waning.

  With my face still hidden, I shook my head again. “He didn’t. We didn’t… sex.” More tears interrupted my words. “He threatened. I told him no, but… if…”

  I shouldn’t have gotten in that car.

  “If?” Nox encouraged.

  “If I hadn’t gone with Alton…”

  “That was done. What more? What if?”

  “If it weren’t for Pat and Cy… showing up… Bryce said he would… he said he was going to… he threatened…”

  Nox pulled me close. “Fucking bastard.”

  “Do you hate me?” I asked. “I’m sorry…”

  Nox rose to his elbows hovering above me, his eyes meeting mine, forcing our stare, our connection. I searched the blue for answers. What did I see? Anger and regret, yes, but also unquestionably love.

  “Be sorry you got in that car,” his deep voice commanded. “Never do it again. Anything beyond that is not your fault. It’s not you who should be sorry. It’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t storm the damn castle sooner.” His volume rose. “Fuck Chelsea and your mom. If that makes me a monster, so be it. You are and will always be my biggest priority.

  “I’m sorry you had to fight off that asshole by yourself. I’m sorry Pat was your savior when it should have been me. I’m sorry that douche bag is still walking the earth. As it is, he’s a dead man walking.

  “No one and I mean no one should scare you like that.”

  The tears were back, coating my cheeks as Nox kissed me again.

  “And yet you asked me to make love to you last night?”

  I nodded as my answer came in phrases. “I did and it felt right… I love you, Lennox Demetri… I don’t ever want to be with anyone else… I’m sorry I put myself—”

  His finger touched my lips. “No more apologizing. I promised to punish you for getting in that car and putting the most important person in the world in danger. I promised that when we spoke on the phone. But,” he added, “not for anything else. There are others who will be punished. And I promise you, when I’m done, your ass will be sore, but others will be dead.”

  “You’re not being literal, are you?”

  “Yes, your ass will be sore.”

  I shook my head. “Not about that.”

  “Sleep. I’m here now. No more nightmares.”

  I clung to Nox’s chest, allowing his woodsy scent and hard muscles to be my new blanket. Did I want Bryce dead? I couldn’t wish death on anyone, not even Alton. I wanted them both to suffer. I wanted them to get what they deserved for treating my mother and me the way they had. I wanted to be rid of them—forever.

  Was that the same as wanting them dead?

  As time passed, Nox’s breathing evened and I accepted his promises.

  I didn’t fully understand the way he made me feel or the blind trust I had in him, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real.

  I wanted it. I craved it.

  I craved the release that I knew would come with accepting his punishment, delivered not in anger, but in love.

  I also understood that his punishment wouldn’t be for getting in the car, but for disobeying him, for breaking the promise I’d made to him—the promise to keep myself safe, the promise Jocelyn had also failed to keep. He’d punish me because I put the one person he loved in danger.

  He’d be right. My nightmares confirmed it. I’d been in danger.

  CHARLI’S GRIP FINALLY loosened as her breathing found a steady rhythm. It was possible that I’d slept at some point during the night. I’m confident that I had when we’d first surrendered to sleep. After that, it was only for minutes at a time. Even when Charli wasn’t fully awake, her body twitched, her head shook, and she mumbled words.

  I couldn’t make sense out of it until she began screaming. Her protests were loud and clear. My name even infiltrated her monologue. At first I assumed she was telling me no, but that wasn’t it. She was calling out to me, for me, and I wasn’t there.

  As the sleepless night continued, with each of her outbursts—whether done in her sleep or causing her to wake—I saw red, blood red. Deep, dark crimson filled my vision as it flowed over my thoughts. My fists clenched, aching to connect, to seek vengeance, to mutilate Edward Spencer.

  Charli had broken her promise to stay safe. I wasn’t blaming the victim. Like I’d said, no one deserved to be scared like that asshole had scared her; however, she’d made me one promise, the same one Jo had made, and by getting in that car, she’d broken it. I’d promised her consequences for her actions, and when the time was right she’d experience them, but her consequences weren’t what kept me from sleeping.

  It was his consequences that kept me awake—and her stepfather’s too.

  Slipping from our warm bed, I eased into a pair of jeans from the closet, grabbed my phone and opened the door to the balcony. A gust of cool late-morning air made me turn, hoping I hadn’t woken Charli. I hadn’t. Buried under the covers, her only movement—the rise and fall from her breathing—verified she was finally sleeping.
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  Sighing, I made my way outside and quietly closed the door behind me.

  With the sun fully up, the breeze showed itself on the sound as white caps dotting the surface and muting the colors. The bright blues of summer were fading. To the side of the property I took in the dense line of trees. Some stood bare like skeletons of their former selves, the seclusion they’d granted with their leaves now gone. The former shields were now dried, brown, and dead, their useless bodies scattered over the lawns. The few leaves remaining kept the grayness of winter at bay, holding tight to the autumn colors—the oranges, yellows, and reds.

  A little farther south from my house was a yacht club. On a Sunday during the summer, the water would be alive with activity. But November in New York didn’t lend itself to sailing. Stepping to the railing I inhaled, expanding my chest and filling my lungs with the brisk air. The cold burn was the wake-up call I needed. As my thoughts volleyed with the recent and not-so-recent past, the chilly surface of the decking made itself known under my bare feet.

  Soon enough I’d go downstairs for coffee. First, I had a call to make.

  “Lennox,” Deloris answered on the first ring.

  “Tell me what’s happening.”

  “The Montague lawyers are doing their best, but Spencer is still in jail.”

  “What did you learn about the body?”

  “Not much. They still haven’t confirmed it as Melissa Summers. They’ve called her family to identify her.”

  “Identify? So the body is identifiable?”

  “So it seems.”

  Wouldn’t that mean she was recently killed? I ran my hand through my hair as the autumn scene before me disappeared and Alton Fitzgerald’s face came back to my memory. “Fitzgerald came to the interrogation room at the police station last night. He accused me of being behind this whole thing—some mastermind plot to incriminate Spencer. He said he knew Melissa Summers was connected to Infidelity. When I saved Charli, I’d mentioned that Spencer was a client. Fitzgerald threatened to figure out the connection and told me that my plan wouldn’t work.”