Deception (Infidelity #3) Read online

  They were pieces of who I’d been, or maybe they were part of who I was today.

  Alexandria? Alex? Or Charli…?

  Perhaps it took all three—the scared little girl, the independent young woman, and the woman ready to trust and love—to make me whole. If that were true, then I couldn’t leave any one part behind. I needed to face the past and present and recognize that I hadn’t done it alone. I’d had help all along.

  “WHY MUST SHE come here?” I asked as I secured my hair in a French twist. Usually I was completely ready for dinner by the time Alton joined me. Tonight was different. Instead of being down in the parlor or in his study as he usually was when he came home from the office, he was in our suite, briefing me on our upcoming dinner from hell.

  “Because, Laide, it’s part of the illusion,” Alton answered with a tone that suggested I was asking something of common knowledge, like why the sky was blue or the sea was green. “And,” he continued, “according to Bryce, she’s having trouble with this whole thing. The little whore was willing to take the money, but she never expected it to be from someone who had a history with Alexandria.”

  I straightened my shoulders as I inspected my hair and makeup. “I never liked her, not when she lived with our daughter. But I-I…” I searched for the right words. “…never thought she was a prostitute.”

  Alton was watching my response, his eyes narrowing with each of my words.

  “I never trusted her,” I continued. “Do you think she was using Alexandria for her own benefit, encouraging Alexandria’s rebellion for just such an occasion as this?”

  Alton tilted his head, thoughtfully, just before throwing back the two fingers of Cognac from the tumbler in his hand. Since the meeting in his office a few nights ago, he’d at least calmed over the whole subject.

  He’d attended a few meetings with Bryce’s attorneys, the ones working the case about Melissa, and suddenly, Alton Fitzgerald was once again Bryce’s biggest advocate. Alton explained that the company from which Bryce had secured Chelsea’s companionship—which was just gentlemanly talk for ‘bought a whore’—was reputable and secure. The clients were mostly well-known names and the chance of it becoming public that Chelsea was anything other than a sincere girlfriend was minimal to nonexistent. Apparently, in the entire history of the company, there’d never been such a breach.

  “Then it all makes sense,” he replied to my question. “It works. It all works as a grand plot brewing for years, substantiating Bryce and Chelsea’s long-term relationship.”

  I walked to the highboy in our suite, my high heels sinking into the plush carpet and reached for the already-poured glass of cabernet. Swirling the dark red liquid, I tried to think of the right way to say what I was thinking, a way to question this plan without setting my husband off again. “Will you explain that?”

  He huffed as he settled into a plush high-back leather chair and lifted his shoes to the ottoman. “Laide, for Christ’s sake, use your head. You just said it yourself. Think like the little slut. She found herself rooming with Alexandria Montague. She saw the potential. When Bryce went to California to visit Alexandria, Chelsea ran interference, telling Bryce that Alexandria didn’t want to see him and telling Alexandria to stay away from Bryce. She was in the perfect position to cause dissension.”

  I sipped the thick wine that my husband had poured for me. There was something off about its flavor. I looked at the bottle. It was from our private collection. Maybe it was the year. Maybe it was that I’d been avoiding the cabernets, merlots, and other reds and drinking more whites lately, even more water.

  Ever since learning about the codicil, I’d avoided the heavier alcohol, striving to keep sharp. Not only didn’t I want to accidentally let on what I knew, I was listening and taking in everything that was said and done around me.

  For years—too many—I’d let the world rotate around me, content to stay blissfully dissociated and unaware, but no longer. Time was of the essence and by Alton’s reaction to Bryce’s plan, there was more happening than I knew. It was time to do as Jane did.

  I didn’t mean manual labor. Heaven forbid. I meant listen. Jane said that was what she did, how she knew about the codicil. My guess was that she knew a lot more than she let on. I was following her lead.

  I nodded in acknowledgment of Alton’s explanation.

  He went on telling me exactly why I should accept Bryce and Chelsea’s cover story, while at the same time analyze her. He wanted to be sure she was believable before they went out into public together, before the vultures began to circle and questions were asked.

  I listened as recent events infiltrated my thoughts. During one of Alton’s latest trips, I’d met again with Stephen, the young intern. Together, we’d looked closer at the ledger of views for all of my father’s documents. It appeared that when Charles was alive, it wasn’t uncommon for my father to meet with Ralph Porter and go over issues and legal papers. It wasn’t until weeks before my father’s death that Charles had met with both Ralph and Alton.

  All that Stephen and I could decipher was that they were looking at the structure of Montague Corporation.

  Even after digging, we weren’t able to pinpoint any specific modifications that were made as a result of the meeting. Most of the documents pertaining to Montague Corporation were held by the board of trustees. Legally, I was a member—the member with the most stock—yet I couldn’t exercise my rights, not without alerting my husband. Alton had been named my proxy in all matters Montague. Stephen explained that by legal recourse, I could get my rights back.

  The only other time that Alton and Father had visited the firm together was prior to Alton’s and my wedding and I’d been with them. It was when we signed the necessary paperwork for the agreement to our marriage. Some may consider it a prenuptial agreement, but in reality it was the fulfillment of Article XII of my father’s last will and testament.

  I liked Stephen. I was most certain that Ralph had sent him my way in hopes of derailing whatever it was he thought I would find. Perhaps Ralph believed that together Stephen and I would be the blind leading the blind. However, I knew more about the Montague family than I’d ever been allowed to previously voice, and Stephen was extremely well versed in legalese—not only because he was a second-year law student at Savannah Law and an intern in an esteemed law practice, but also because of his undergraduate work where he’d majored in philosophy. Stephen had an uncanny ability to decipher the written word.

  “Are you listening?”

  I lifted my gaze to my husband’s. His gray eyes darkened as he awaited my response.

  “I am. I’m concerned that I won’t be able to hide my distaste for this entire situation. How can I possibly not let on that I know she’s a prostitute?”

  “Come now, Adelaide, you’re an expert at this.”

  I stopped my hand with the wine goblet poised at my lips, uncertain if I’d actually received a compliment. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you can grin and bear it with the best of them.”

  It wasn’t a compliment. “Perhaps you’d like to enlighten me with specific examples.”

  “No, I’d like you to do as I said and welcome this girl into our home as you would Alexandria’s suitor, that Demetri young man.”

  I took a deep breath. “I haven’t met him. But the glaring difference is that Alexandria hasn’t paid for his companionship.” I emphasized the word Bryce had used.

  “Not to our knowledge.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “Alexandria has no access to any of her money. And from what I understand, that Demetri young man isn’t in need of financial support.”

  Alton took a step closer. “Really, Adelaide, I thought we were done discussing the attributes of the Demetris. Unless you’d like to reopen old wounds.”

  I pressed my lips together. If only he knew the extent to which I’d explored Oren Demetri’s attributes. In my husband’s mind, he was talking about one encounter. Little did he know that it last
ed for years. “I believe that you made your opinion of Lennox’s father very clear.”

  Removing the glass from my hand, Alton stared down into my eyes. The intensity was both frightening and exhilarating. I’d trained myself too well to look away, a lesser woman would. But I’d danced this tango too many times. In these situations, my survival mechanism was to become a voyeur. No longer present as a participant, I watched from outside, fascinated by the carnage from the imminent wreck.

  With each passing second, my husband’s expression hardened. Before I knew what he’d done, his hand was around my throat, causing me to stumble backward until my shoulders collided with the wall. He applied just enough pressure to my neck that I needed to raise my chin to breathe. “This isn’t a wise choice of conversation.”

  “I don’t believe it was I who brought it up.”

  The pressure increased but only marginally. “We will have a united front when we dine. Is that clear?”

  The telltale taste of copper seeped onto my tongue as I pierced my lip, biting back the response I wanted to say. “Yes, you’re very clear.”

  “For the record, that young man comes from a lineage of criminals, in all meanings of the word. Underhanded business as well as underworld dealings. He will never step foot in my home.”

  It wasn’t a question. I was most certain Alexandria would agree with Alton, though not for the same reasons. “I have not met him,” I emphasized what I’d said before.

  “But his father…”

  My gaze stayed fixed though the pressure on my neck increased. I knew better than to change my expression. Any alteration could be misconstrued.

  “You know, Adelaide, not all whores are purchased through a company.”

  No, some secure their place in your life with their bastard son. I didn’t say that.

  When I didn’t respond, he released me.

  I inhaled, allowing my lungs to fully expand. “What about Alexandria?” I asked, rubbing my fingers over my neck and reaching for my glass. The wine felt good as it coated my throat.

  “What about her?”

  “Her reaction to all of this. I don’t know how you think this will get her and Bryce back together.”

  “Have you told her?”

  “No. I haven’t spoken to her. She still isn’t answering my calls since you used my phone.”

  Alton shook his head. “That girl needs to be taught manners.”

  I walked toward the mirror. The skin of my neck was red, though he hadn’t squeezed hard enough to leave the markings of his fingers.

  Alton went to my dresser and opened two doors revealing multiple drawers filled with jewelry. As he searched, he said, “I was working to get her back here before this change of events. As with everything else, I’ve given up on your ability to influence her decisions. Besides, I won’t allow this Moore girl to change the intended outcome.”

  Turning from my jewelry, Alton silently handed me a beaded necklace. It was shaped like a large triangle, the design hanging like a scarf secured high on my neck with the point falling just over the neckline of my dress.

  It would hide any signs of his recent power play.

  Illusion.

  Willingly, I took the jewelry, removed the necklace I’d been wearing, and attempted to secure the larger one. But as I did, Alton came up behind me and reached for the clasps. I lowered my hands as he latched the necklace. Next, he leaned toward my ear and brushed the side of my neck with his lips.

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald, I suggest that you make your daughter listen.” The scent of tobacco and Cognac filled my senses, and his voice rumbled through me, a stark contrast to the menacing meaning of his warning. “This cover story will be just that. The way I see it, it will bring Alexandria to her senses.” With the necklace secure, our eyes met in the mirror and his hands cupped my shoulders. “It is in everyone’s best interest to keep those people, that family, away from Montague women. I would hate to see anyone get hurt.”

  He handed me my glass. “Drink up, darling, we have family waiting.”

  I took the glass, but instead of drinking, I lifted my brow. “Does that mean Suzy is here?”

  “Why of course.”

  I emptied the contents of the glass and left it on the table near the door. To hell with my new pledge to stay alert—some instances were better left forgotten. I was certain that it would take more than one glass of cabernet to make it through this dinner.

  Nervous laughter came from the parlor as we descended the grand stairs. We stood at the archway, my arm in the crook of my husband’s as the farce played out around us. Bryce was at the far end of the room, an empty tumbler in his hand. No doubt, he’d had the same before-dinner cocktail as his father.

  Nothing but the best Cognac for the Fitzgeralds, even the illegitimate ones.

  Though I felt no pity for Bryce, I saw through his bravado. The look in his gray eyes as he turned toward Alton and me—he wasn’t looking at me. His full attention was on his father, seeking his approval, pleading for a sign that this plan would work out.

  I fought the urge to turn to my husband and witness his silent response. Just as I was about to look, my attention went to the two women on the small velvet loveseat. My best friend was absolutely doting over Bryce’s new slut.

  Though I’d met Chelsea before, in this environment she looked different. No doubt Suzy had helped with the slut’s appearance. She wasn’t unattractive. With her hair up and her lovely young figure accentuating a stunning black cocktail-length dress, she turned from Suzy to me, her hazel eyes reflecting the same plea I’d just seen in Bryce’s.

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Chelsea said as she stood.

  “Adelaide,” Suzy offered. “There’s no need for formalities.”

  I took a step forward.

  Chelsea extended her hand, but I merely nodded.

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald…” I let my stone-cold gaze move from Chelsea to Suzanna and back to Chelsea. “…will work just fine, Miss Moore.”

  “CHARLI?”

  The sound of my name resonated through my dreams, pulling me from my slumber as a warm touch skirted my back, tracing my spine before resting on my shoulder. The connection created a lifeline back to reality. It was one I hadn’t realized I needed or even wanted. For so long I’d pretended to be strong. I probably wasn’t fooling anyone, except maybe myself. I’d thought that during all of those years in Montague Manor that I’d been alone, but I hadn’t.

  Jane’s voice over the phone, her words, and reassurance—they’d always been there, whenever I needed them. More than that, she’d been the one to constantly remind me that I had my mother’s support, even when I couldn’t see it. Most of all, Jane had told me that I was loved, was kind, and was beautiful—inside and out.

  In the time after the call and before I’d drifted to sleep, I recalled the night years ago, the night before I left for Stanford and my mother’s visit to my room. In Montague Manor I’d learned to be strong, but I’d had help—invaluable help. Without Jane’s and my mother’s encouragement, I may never have been brave enough to start over in California, to become Alex.

  My heart ached at the realization. Chelsea had been part of that transition too. She’d been my cheerleader and my rock. She’d helped me close out the shadows of my past and welcome the light of my present and future. I’d never fully confided in her or in anyone, but somehow they knew. Somehow those closest to me knew exactly what I’d needed.

  And now I didn’t know where Chelsea was. She needed me and I couldn’t help her.

  “Charli?”

  I turned my attention toward the deep velvet voice. Nox’s timbre rumbled through the darkened room, its tenor beckoning as his voice overflowed with concern. As he came into focus, his handsome face contorted with uncertainty. His brow furrowed and chiseled jaw clenched. The vein in his neck jumped to life, throbbing with his increased pulse.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, reaching up to touch his cheek.

  He lifted my shoulders, se
curing them in his strong hands as he pulled me to a sitting position and held me against his chest. “Princess, I’m sorry.”

  The haze of sleep left me disoriented and unsure.

  Why is he sorry?

  “Nox?” It was the only word I could mutter as my cheek smashed against his suit coat and he held me tighter. His cologne filled my senses. Beneath the soft material of his jacket, his hard chest cradled me while his erratic heartbeat troubled me.

  “I shouldn’t have left you here alone,” he said, “not after last time.”

  I tried to move my head from side to side. “No, it’s not… I’m fine. What’s upset you?”

  “You,” Nox replied. “I’m worried about you. Why are you crying?”

  My fingers found their way to my face as I pulled away from his embrace. He was right. I hadn’t realized I’d been crying, but my cheeks were wet. I blinked my swollen lids and wiped away the evidence.

  “I’m fine. I think I fell asleep.”

  Now at arm’s length, Nox’s pale blue eyes scanned my features, seeing not only me, but inside of me. Even in the sparse illumination that spilled like golden liquid from the hallway, I saw the navy swirls as he assessed my words and my expression.

  “I would’ve been home sooner,” Nox explained, “but just as I was about to leave the office, I got a phone call that I needed to take. I should’ve called you when it was done.”

  Still shaking my head, I replied, “Stop, I’m fine. I’m not that fragile.”

  “Then tell me what happened.”

  I reached for his hand, still holding my shoulder, turned and lifted his palm to my lips. Giving it a kiss I held it near my cheek and smiled. “I think everything is catching up with me.”

  As I was about to lace our fingers together, Nox’s gaze went to the bed and then to my phone atop it. He dropped my hand, reached for it, and swiped the screen.