Deception Page 18

  Shaking my head, I lifted the crystal to my lips and enjoyed the unique blend of the Montague chardonnay. With a hint of citrus as well as pear, it went down smoothly, its light flavor teasing my palate but doing little to derail my train of thought.

  I took another drink.

  I couldn’t think about my father’s death. Instead, I needed to concentrate on what he’d done during his life—on the codicil. Since leaving Ralph’s office, I had more and more questions. I planned to revisit Stephen once Alton left town again. I wanted to know who had viewed the will over the years and when. In all of Stephen’s and my exploration, I’d forgotten to take a good look at the ledger. I also wanted to know which judge in Savannah had the fortitude to deny my husband his request to void the codicil. That would be a judge I’d want on my side.

  Another question that lingered in my mind was how I could prove Alton’s involvement in sabotaging the wedding. I was convinced that Alexandria was purposely persuaded to visit Del Mar the same week as Lennox Demetri was there.

  My theory centered around Oren.

  Over time, Alton had made innuendos, accusing me of infidelity. While I was certain that it was his own promiscuity that made him suspicious, more than once he’d mentioned Oren Demetri. Thankfully, Alton never had evidence. Our affair was the one endeavor that I managed to successfully conspire to keep under Alton’s radar. Our rendezvous were well planned and orchestrated. Whenever the topic reared its ugly head, my obvious defense was Alton’s reaction the night in New York after Oren and I had only spoken. Why would I risk my husband’s wrath after that?

  To Alton’s knowledge, I’d never lied to him. In many ways, I believed he thought himself above my deception. What the great Alton Fitzgerald didn’t realize was that I’d been taught to deceive by the best.

  When I finally broke off my relationship with Oren, it was for one reason: I wanted more of him—his companionship, his adoration, his love. I wanted a life unlike anything I’d ever before known. I wanted it more than I wanted anything else.

  Each touch, each kiss, each encounter was but a grain of sand filling the hourglass of my life. With him, I was no longer empty. As the individual grains began to accumulate, the need to be with him was all-consuming.

  When we were apart, I thought of him and the way his pale blue eyes scanned my soul. The way he looked at me was more than a scan of my body. Oren Demetri saw inside of me. He knew my innermost thoughts, sometimes even before I did. His voice sent shivers down my spine. Even the memory of his tenor prickled my skin. His touch was like no other I’d ever experienced. A master at his craft, Oren never took, but gave in a way that made me hungry for more.

  I’d almost agreed to Oren’s requests, leaving Alton, Montague Manor, and everything I’d strived for in my life. He offered me a home and a life—not just me, but Alexandria too. In Oren’s arms I no longer cared about my heritage or duties. In his embrace I was simply a woman, in love, being loved.

  Such a simple concept and yet one so foreign.

  I couldn’t fight it any more. It had to stop.

  If I’d spent one more second in his grasp, or one more grain of sand would have fallen into the pile at the bottom of my hourglass, the scale would have irrevocably tipped.

  It would have pushed me over the edge.

  I couldn’t do it. My responsibilities screamed at me from the grave, in my father’s voice. Generations of Montagues needed me to stay the course. We’d all sacrificed too much to give into emotion.

  Yet sometime during those years of deception, I sensed that Alton knew. Not cognitively—he would have beaten me worse than before—but intuitively. That was why I believed he reasoned that Alexandria could possibly be attracted to Lennox. In my mind, it was a last-ditch effort on his part, but as the clock continued to tick, desperate times called for desperate measures.

  My theories centered on Alton’s belief in the old adage: like mother, like daughter.

  His bet paid off.

  Now all I had to do was prove his involvement. My next visit to Hamilton and Porter included a private discussion with Natalie, the secretary who’d mentioned Del Mar to Alexandria.

  My subsequent sip of chardonnay lodged in my throat, the citrus flavor no longer smooth but coarse, as it refused to go down when accompanied by the bellow of my husband’s voice.

  “Adelaide!” He repeated my name, softer then louder as he neared the library.

  Consciously, I forced the liquid down, struggling to turn off the pictures on my phone and finding my voice. “I’m in here.”

  “Why in the hell do you sit in here in the damn dark?”

  The room filled with light as he hit the switch. As I blinked my eyes at the brightness, I pushed my phone under the throw and stood to meet him. I had no idea what had happened, but as he entered, the library filled with the cloud of rage that accompanied him.

  Placing my glass on the nearby table, I seized my own suddenly chilled hands in an attempt to hide that my trembling from earlier had resumed. At the way the hairs stood tall on my arms, I deducted one thing—he knew about my visit to the lawyers. Defiantly, I lifted my chin and tried to recall the rebuttal I’d planned as my excuse. However, thoughts failed me as he continued his tirade.

  “I sent the damn maid to find you and she came back empty-handed. Where the fuck have you been?”

  Still scrambling with my defense, I stammered, “I-I’ve been here. I enjoy the view. It’s still warm enough to have the windows open—”

  “Everything is hitting the fucking fan!”

  I stared up at his face, his chest near enough to mine that I felt the heat radiating from him. His normal crimson, the visible flush of his anger, seeped from his collar up his neck and over his cheeks.

  “Everything? What are you talking about?”

  “Come down to my office now. You need to know what’s happened.”

  My hand fluttered near my neck as I took a step backward. My knees grew weak as I sank to the chaise. “Alexandria? What happened?”

  Alton’s eyes narrowed. “No, Adelaide, for once it’s not your daughter who’s trying to ruin everything.”

  My throat grew dry. I had to know what was in store. “Did I—”

  He didn’t let me finish. “Not everything is about you!” He scanned my attire. “Get down to my office. Don’t worry about getting dressed. It’s only Suzy and Bryce. This needs a family conference.”

  Relief and confusion replaced my initial anxiety.

  I shook my head. It was after ten o’clock. Why in the hell were Suzy and Bryce in his office? “What happened?”

  He turned abruptly around. “Just shut up and listen. You’ll learn everything in a minute. We need to put a fucking stop to this circus.”

  I stayed rooted to the library floor, the bright lights now obscuring the peaceful view. In the large leaded windows I saw only my own reflection. For a moment, I watched as the woman in the glass straightened her shoulders and secured the ties of her robe.

  This was my house. I’d long ago decided not to let my best friend’s presence in any situation, even when we were categorized as family, intimidate me. If Alton wanted a family conference, I’d take my place as Mrs. Fitzgerald at that damn table and smile smugly at the whore who willingly made my life easier. Maybe when this was done, he’d find a reason to go into town—work perhaps—and I’d have a nice night’s sleep.

  “Adelaide, now!”

  I refilled my glass, emptying the bottle upon the table and followed in the wake of Alton’s displeasure.

  ONLY A FEW steps behind, I entered Alton’s office and stepped into his cloud of malcontent. My eyes searched the regal room. Beyond the large windows was only darkness, a contrast to the stark illumination within. The bookcases, filled with treasures that belonged to my father and his father before him, created a colorful addition to the darkness of the wood trim. The air only moments before had been light and freely flowed into my lungs. Now, it was heavy, weighted down with something I
didn’t understand. No longer did it substantiate life: it suffocated, effectively snuffing out what before it had promoted.

  Pressing my lips together, I assessed what had happened. All I’d been told was that the perpetrator of this offense was neither Alexandria nor I, for once. Considering the amount of tension hanging in the air like dark smoke, I was eternally grateful for the reprieve from being the center of yet another mishap. My best friend, Suzanna, stood uncharacteristically quiet, leaning against the far wall, her arms crossed over her breasts and a solemn look upon her face. Her eyes didn’t seek to find me. Instead, they stayed set on Alton, pleading some unspoken request.

  I’d seen their glances, their silent conversations shared by lovers. Despite everything Alton had done, seeing the way they looked at one another often left me feeling sad and empty. I wasn’t my husband’s love, his soul mate, or even his partner in life. I was merely his winning lottery ticket, the one he kept crumpled in his pocket. As long as it was there, he was rich beyond his wildest dreams, more powerful than any Fitzgerald before him, and in control of the kingdom bestowed upon him by Charles II.

  Tonight was different.

  The physical pain I saw in Suzy’s eyes made me flinch. Something had happened, something that left her not only uneasy but fearful.

  Questions crept into my consciousness—things I’d never allowed myself to think or at least to dwell upon. Had Alton abused her, the way he did me? Had he hurt her, with more than the pain of rejecting her to marry me? Did she know the things he’d done? Had he told her? Had she seen?

  As I stared at her grave expression, I felt an unusual twinge of sympathy for my best friend. In her gaze, I read a tale. Perhaps it was the years we’d been friends. Perhaps it was because of what we’d shared. Whatever the cause, I saw it, plain and simple. She was a woman who’d sacrificed her dream of happiness for her son. A woman who’d given away the man she admired and adored to let him achieve his desires.

  She was a woman who for the first time had truly seen the monster behind the mask. Suzanna was looking at Alton as if she’d just met him. As if she’d just seen the extremes to which he could and would go to make his dreams come true.

  Anguish emanated from her as if she were seeing her dreams dashed for the first time. As if she were looking at the person to whom she’d stupidly given her past, present, and future, only to watch him casually hold it in his grasp, with the ability to crush it with one word.

  Her dark eyes shone with a terror that I personally knew too well.

  Bryce, on the other hand, was pacing near the far end of the conference table—angry, defiant, a caged lion—as heat radiated from his body. Never before had I noticed the resemblance to his biological father. I’d always allowed myself to associate his coloring with Marcus’s. Truly, Suzanna’s ex-husband and Alton hadn’t been that different in their physical stature. But in this room, Bryce was Alton, complete with red leaching from his neck to his cheeks, and even his ears. The way his chest expanded and contracted with every breath stilled my steps. Though Bryce could be very different, in that second I knew he could also be his father, despite his ignorance of his true parentage.

  I said a silent prayer of thanks to God for letting me know about the codicil and for a daughter who stood up not only to me, but also to Alton and—unbeknownst to her—her grandfather’s wishes. I’d been wrong about the young man near the end of the table. Bryce wouldn’t make Alexandria a good husband any more than Alton had made one for me.

  Perhaps I had naïvely hoped that adding love and friendship to the equation would tame the beast within. Looking at Suzy and her current state of devastation, I knew that wasn’t true.

  Nothing could calm Alton’s rage once it was ready to unfurl, and in my heart, I knew Bryce would be no different.

  Quietly, unnoticed by the other occupants of the room, I slipped into my chair at the large table with my glass of wine firmly in hand. As if my entrance had opened a valve allowing some of the pressure to release, each participant slowly followed suit: Alton, Suzy, and finally at his father’s prompting, Bryce.

  I wanted to ask what had happened, what everyone else in the room knew, but I was better trained. I would learn when it was my turn to learn. This was Alton’s show, and it would progress on his terms.

  “I don’t understand—” Bryce began.

  “No!”

  Suzy and I both sat taller at Alton’s reprimand. Though I’d heard that tone directed at both Alexandria and myself, never had I heard him speak to Bryce with it.

  Somewhere between a kicked puppy and a stunned shark, Bryce stopped, his gray eyes wide as he stared the length of the table.

  Alton ran his hand through his thinning hair and stood, simply unable to contain his anger. His chest expanded and contracted. The sound of his labored breathing filled the office as we sat watching and waiting. I looked again toward Suzy.

  Once again, our eyes didn’t meet. Hers were downcast as a trail of tears made its way down her pale cheeks.

  Confident of my innocence, I considered speaking. Before I could utter a word, Alton poured Cognac from a decanter into a crystal tumbler. One finger, two, he kept pouring. I bit my tongue as he took the glass to his lips and drank. His Adam’s apple bobbed as the fiery liquid undoubtedly scorched his throat. He didn’t stop.

  Once the glass was empty, he turned and threw it into the fireplace. Everyone took a collective breath as shards of crystal fell like snow, littering the hearth. Had there been a fire, the reflections may have been beautiful; instead, they fell to the ashes, their luster extinguished.

  “Maybe we should have told them.” Alton spoke to the room.

  Suzy’s eyes met mine for the first time this evening, as they swirled with a combination of sadness and confusion.

  No one dared speak.

  “I can’t even find the fucking words,” Alton began as he sat with an exaggerated huff. “Bryce has taken it upon himself to secure a…” He shook his head searching for the right word. “…relationship.”

  Suzy’s chin fell to her chest. No doubt she already knew the information that Alton was sharing with me.

  “I-I don’t understand,” I said.

  “He couldn’t wait,” Alton went on, each phrase louder than the one before. “I told him to wait. I told him to have faith in Alexandria, but he panicked.”

  Bryce’s chin rose rebelliously. “I didn’t panic.”

  Alton crossed his arms over his chest. “You imbecile. You have no idea of the mess you’ve made.”

  My thoughts spun. How could what Bryce had done be worse than the mess with Melissa? Yet never had Alton chastised Bryce in front of me during any of that—the accusations of abuse, rape, or even her disappearance.

  “What did you do?” I asked Bryce, not confident enough in my innocence to ask Alton.

  He shrugged. “Apparently, I fucked everything up. I don’t know what everything is.”

  “Bryce, language,” Suzanna reprimanded.

  We all turned her direction.

  Really? Your son has been accused of rape, abuse, kidnapping, and possibly murder and you’re going to correct his language?

  I didn’t say that, but from the look on both Alton’s and my face, I was certain we were both thinking the same thing.

  “No, Suzy,” Alton said, “Bryce’s account is accurate. He fucked everything. I don’t just mean an eighteen-year-old coed or Millie Ashmore or any other willing or unwilling partner. I mean everything that we’ve all strived to achieve.”

  Bryce leaned back against his chair, his arms crossed to mirror his father’s. “Maybe if you’d tell me what everything means.”

  “It means your marriage with Alexandria.”

  Bryce’s hands came down, slapping his palms against the table. “You don’t think I’ve tried? I have. I tried while she was at Stanford. I went to California. I watched her, waiting for the right time to step back into her life. I asked her—no, begged her—to help me with the Evanston pol
ice, the deposition, the charges regarding Melissa.

  “She has moved on. She’s with Demetri now and won’t even talk to me.” Bryce stood and resumed pacing. “I can’t go into that courtroom without some kind of defense. I need a credible alibi, a reason to disprove everything that Melissa’s parents’ attorneys throw our way.” He turned toward Alton. “It’s what the Montague legal team told me to do.”

  “And I told you that Alexandria was your person.” Alton glared. “I told you that people would believe that story. You’d dated for years when you were younger. I said I was working on getting her home.”

  By doing what? I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t interrupt their verbal back and forth.

  Bryce shook his head. “Believe me, I’d force Alexandria if I could. But I can’t get within fifty feet of her.” His eyes narrowed. “And neither can you. So don’t act as if this is all my fault. You’ve been saying she’ll be back, but guess what? Melissa is still missing. The case is building. I didn’t have anything to do with her disappearance, yet I’m at the top of their list of suspects.”

  Suzy and I turned back to Alton, our lips held tightly together as if respectfully watching a tennis match.

  “How? How did you even learn about this… this business?” Alton asked.

  Bryce lifted his brows knowingly. “From Melissa.”

  “She told you?”

  “Yes. She wanted out of it. She said if we were together she could get out.”

  As the room fell silent, I found my voice. “What business? What are you talking about?”

  When neither man spoke, finally Suzy volunteered, “It seems that Bryce purchased a companion.”

  I opened my eyes wide. “You bought a prostitute?” Then I thought some more. “So what?”

  Both Alton and Suzy looked at me.

  I went on. “So what? I mean, I’m not happy about it. Alexandria won’t be happy, but really, who cares? Compared to abuse, rape, kidnapping… well, soliciting prostitution seems rather unimportant.”

  “Bryce didn’t purchase a woman for a night,” Alton explained. “He purchased her for a year.”