“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. He looks up at me, and I see that he’s actually crying. He wipes at the tears streaking down his cheek. “I shouldn’t put all of this on you, but I couldn’t keep it inside anymore.”
I still find myself not knowing what to say. I’m torn. I want to reach out to him and comfort him; I want him out of my damned apartment. I know now that getting involved was a mistake. I should have known this job was too good to be true, should have known that Oliver was too good to be true.
I take a deep breath, hoping my voice is steady when I speak.
“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, my voice staying low, as if we’re sharing a secret in a room full of people. I know we’re the only two people in my apartment, but when secrets like these are being revealed, I feel like it’s only proper to practically whisper.
“I...nothing.”
Oliver has stopped crying, there are no more tears in his eyes, just wet streaks down his face from where they once were.
“There’s nothing that I can do now, Cassidy. My father’s trial is going to start tomorrow and I’m going to sit behind him and be supportive. I don’t believe he’s going to go down for what I’ve done.”
The way he says that...I know he’s done something else. I know that the Windsor family has figured out how to get out of this crime. Am I complicit in it?
“Matthew’s family will never know justice,”I said.
“Matthew wasn’t a good man,” Oliver interjected quickly. “He did awful things for my father before he started sleeping with Camille. Someone was going to kill him one day.”
“Did it have to be you?” I was unable to stop myself from saying it. The words just slipped out, but I have no regrets.
“Cassidy, please understand...I regret what I did. I know it probably seems like I don’t, but I didn’t know a better way to handle the problem.”
Oliver seems impersonal at this moment, so far from the man I’ve spent so much time with. Oliver reaches out, just holding his hand open. He’s reaching out to me and I don’t want to take his hand. I don’t want to throw myself into this mess even further than I already am.
I look over at him, seeing the pain and confusion and distraught emotions on his face. I don’t know how he’s feeling anymore, but I know he’s not happy. I hate that that hurts me. I should wash my hands of Oliver Windsor now, but I don’t know how. I take a deep breath and reach out, placing my hand in his.
“I’m sorry, Cassidy,” he said. “I didn’t know who else to turn to. I didn’t know what else to do. You’re the only person I could think of. I know...I know what we have is new and tentative, but I feel things for you. You already know that, but I feel stronger for you than I’ve ever felt for anybody else.”
I look at our hands, my heart feeling torn. I just...I hate that I feel the same way towards him. I feel things for Oliver so damned strongly. I love him. I’m in love with him. His thumb strokes the top of my hand and I don’t know what to do. Can I push him away? Can I accept what he’s done? Where does this leave me?
“We should get some sleep, Oliver,” I told him softly. “We have to be up early. Let’s go to bed.”
I should tell him to leave. I should kick him out and go no contact, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough yet.
We stand up, hand-in-hand, and walk to the bedroom. We crawl into bed together, Oliver’s arms wrapping around me. He kisses my forehead and I try to relax. I try to get sleep to come to me, but it doesn’t. I stay wrapped up with him, eyes open, staring into the darkness and trying to figure out what comes next.
We don’t speak of his confession the next morning. We get ourselves put together in silence, preparing for the day ahead. Once we’re ready, we stop to get coffee and then head to the courthouse. We arrive just as Alan is walking in with his lawyers.
I’m thankful for the distraction, because I can fall into work mode. I’m quick to fend off reporters asking Alan and his lawyers questions. I know I’m not needed; I know the lawyers are also well-versed in PR, but I need the distraction. I need to work.
We sit in the courtroom as the opening arguments are made. I am a thousand miles away from what’s really going on. I can’t stop thinking about what Oliver has done, how Oliver should have been the one on trial, not Alan. I can’t stop thinking about how he’s the man that I love, the man I thought there might be a future with...and yet he’s a monster.
Chapter Ten
Alan’s trial lasts almost a week. It’s emotional, a wave of ups and downs. The entire time, I sit next to Oliver and try to keep it all together. When we’re not sitting in the courtroom, our conversations are short and curt. I’m trying so damned hard to keep things together, and find some sort of normality with him.
Any time I’m around Oliver and Alan, they seem certain that they have things together, that this is going to go well. I don’t question it. I don’t need to know any more than I already know. I don’t want to get any more involved.
We’re all sitting in a private conference room. It’s the third day of Alan’s trial, Oliver and Allison are scheduled to testify today. I don’t even know why I’m in the room. I’m not part of the family; I’m not part of the defense team. But Alan seems to think it would be for the best if I were involved – even though I don’t want to be.
His lawyer, an older man with a thick mustache and greying combover, is giving Allison points about what she should and shouldn’t say when asked about the day that Matthew’s body was discovered. Her story has never changed since I’ve known her. She was out with her friends, came home to the entire mansion in a panic. She doesn’t know where her father was, but she knew he wasn’t home. She knew he wasn’t capable of doing anything like that. When she says the latter part, it’s clear that Allison is lying through her teeth.
I wonder how she feels about her brother.
After the lawyer finishes running through things with Allison, he dismisses himself from the room with the reminder that we have to be back in the courtroom in ten minutes. I go to stand, wanting some fresh air, but Oliver’s hand is on my wrist.
“Stay,” he said, and I can’t tell whether it’s a command or a request.
I settle back into my seat. Sitting next to him, I try to imagine the Oliver that I knew before a few nights ago. I imagine the Oliver who was loving and interesting. I imagine him as the man who opened up to me when he didn’t have to, the one who almost kissed me so many times before finally giving in. I try not to think about what I know now about him – but it is damn near impossible.
Suddenly, Alan speaks.
“Your testimonies are what’s really going to push the jury today,” he told his children. “I’m depending on both of you to do your part. I know I have done mine.”
Something about that leaves me uneasy.
“I know what I have to say,” Allison said dismissively. She sounds tired. I don’t know who wants to be here less, Allison or me.
“It’s going to go fine,” Oliver said. “Allison and I know what we’re going to say and there are no holes in our stories. I think we have an answer for everything. The jury is going to eat it up.”
“Well, we only need to worry about four of them,” Alan grinned. Something about that also makes me feel uneasy. It’s like there’s a secret being exchanged that I’m not a part of.
Allison senses it too. She looks even more uncomfortable than I feel, rocking from side to side in a black dress that screams ‘business professional’. Her hair is up in a bun and she looks like she wants to reach up and yank it out.
“I’m going to go get some coffee, since I’m up first,” she said. “I’m going to need it.”
I want to go after her, talk to her, see what’s on her mind, but Oliver’s hand is around my wrist.
I’m not scared of him – at least I don’t think I am. I don’t think Oliver would ever do anything to physically hurt me, but that doesn’t mean the thought doesn’t cross my mind. I thought I knew him,
but I don’t know the first thing about him. I just don’t want to cross him, to get myself in deeper than I already am.
Allison leaves the room, closing the door behind her, leaving Alan, Oliver, and myself.
“I told Cassidy everything,” Oliver said as soon as the door is closed.
“I know you did,” Alan said. “After we talked about it, I thought you would.”
I hate that they had a conversation involving me. If we had more time, I would pry a bit deeper because I’m curious. Was the conversation about whether they could trust me or not? Was the guilt getting too much for Oliver to bear and did he need to confess it to someone, and was I just the unlucky victim?
Alan continues.
“That’s good. We promised to tell Cassidy everything, and she is under an NDA. It’s fair for all of us involved.”
That wiggles its way underneath my skin and makes a home there. It’s fair? How is it fair that I have to live with their horrible secret now? How is it fair that I’ve been brought into this when it’s none of my business? This isn’t my problem. Or it wasn’t. Now it is. I make a fist, squeezing my nails into the palm of my hand. It’s all I can do to control myself. And I have to control myself. I can’t risk an outburst during the trial. That would be a huge mess, it would be detrimental to Alan’s case, and I would be the one left to fix it all.
“It makes things a lot easier,” Oliver said. He lets go of my wrist. How pathetic is it that I consider running out of the room? Like I’m a kidnapping victim who finally has a chance. I shouldn’t feel like this. A relationship shouldn’t feel like a hostage situation.
“With that said,” Alan started, “did you get into the hotel last night?”
“I did,” said Oliver.
“Undetected?”
Oliver nodded, “I think it all went off without a hitch.”
I sigh. I don’t want to ask the question I’m going to ask...but I don’t want to be kept out of the loop – at least if I’m being made to stay in the room.
“What’s going on?” I asked with a sigh. I clearly don’t want to be a part of it.
“We needed to make sure we had a few people in the jury on our side,” Oliver said. “We found out who the jury members would be. We found out where they were staying, and I paid them a visit last night. I got through to a few of them, gave them some money, told them some secrets I knew.”
“You blackmailed the jury?” I asked incredulously. I can’t believe it. Maybe I should be able to, it doesn’t seem too out of character for either Oliver or Alan, but I’m still taken aback. How can they be so brass? How can they feel so untouchable? Especially when one of them is on trial for murder. Clearly, they’re not untouchable.
“More paid them off than blackmail,” Oliver explained, as if that makes it so much better. “It’s amazing how eager they were to take a few bills and promise to lean with a not guilty verdict.”
“Look Cassidy,” Alan stepped in. I think he can tell that I’m bothered by all of this. He doesn’t look annoyed though. He looks calm, like he’s explaining something to a child. “Sometimes we have to do things to make things right. Oliver clearly made a mess of this whole thing and we had to make a move to clean it up. I don’t trust the jury to not convict me on their own merit. You know as well as I do that people don’t like me. I have rubbed numerous people the wrong way in my lifetime and the media doesn’t help. You’ve done great with the PR so far, but the media is ruthless. You know that as well as I do.”
If I wasn’t so taken aback by everything going on, if I wasn’t so shocked by Oliver’s confession, so confused and unsure, it would be easy to fall for Alan’s spin on things. He’s a master of manipulation, because he’s hardly manipulating me. He’s telling the truth, and it makes sense. I just don’t understand how they don’t see anything wrong with the things they’re doing.
“I get it in theory. It’s just...” I stammered.
“I know you don’t understand all of this, Cassidy. I know it’s a lot and it’s a new world to you, but I promise you, we know what we’re doing.” Oliver said.
I know that they know what they’re doing. They’ve manipulated everything around them so far, what’s stopping them from doing it now? Hell. They’re really going to succeed, aren’t they?
“I understand it, Oliver,” I snapped without meaning to. I don’t appreciate being spoken to like I am a child. I understand exactly what they’re doing. I don’t understand how they have it in them to do it.
“I just...” I started. I have to ask, and I don’t care if I mess up my relationship with everyone in this room. “How do you not feel guilty about any of this?”
Silence settles on the room. It’s like Oliver and Alan have no idea how to answer the question. It’s something I’ve been wondering, because Oliver hasn’t appeared to feel bad about what he’s done. Not yet. I don’t know if he ever will.
“The reward outweighs the guilt, Cassidy,” Alan answered after a moment. “I know it seems like a hard concept but succeeding in what I want is worth the guilt. I don’t think Oliver has quite experienced this yet, but sometimes it is hard to sleep at night. Sometimes I feel bad about what I’ve done, but I can live with myself. There’s the difference between myself and other people. I can live with all the things that I’ve done.”
I look over at Oliver. He’s looking at his father and I can’t help but wonder, can Oliver live with himself like his father? Is he built the same way? It seems like he’s been sleeping just fine, so I think he is. I don’t understand it.
“But how?” I asked, the question leaving me so urgently. “How can you?”
“We’re just built that way, Cassidy. I don’t think it makes sense,” Alan said. He offers a gentle smile in my direction. “Please don’t worry. We’re not going to make you do any of these things.”
That’s supposed to make me feel better, but it doesn’t. Before we can move further with the conversation, the door to the room opens. Alan’s lawyer is poking his head inside.
“Mr. Windsor, we’re back in session.”
“Coming.”
Alan reaches across the table, puts his hand out in front of me. He turns it so it’s palm up and I slowly reach out, tentatively, and place my hand in his. He squeezes it.
“It’ll be okay, Cassidy,” he told me before letting go of my hand.
We all stand and head back to the courtroom, my fingers entwined with Oliver’s. I’m unsettled by the conversation that we have just had. I feel uneasy and uncomfortable; I want to leave even more than I did when we began.
I’m sitting alone in the courtroom. Oliver has taken the stand, hair swooped to the side, looking every inch of the god that everybody thinks he is. That I know him to be. I still love him, but it’s so damned hard.
“Oliver, tell me about the day that Mr. Davis’ body was discovered on your land?”
“Well,” started Oliver. “My father and I went out early that morning to play golf at the Cove Golf Course. We had been planning on it for a few weeks at that point, I believe. See, we missed an opportunity to spend Father’s Day together because of his work schedule.”
“Do you know what time you arrived at the Cove?” asked the lawyer.
“Not off the top of my head. I think it was between nine and ten that morning,” replied Oliver.
“And how long did you and your father play golf that day?”
“We played eighteen holes, had lunch, and decided to play another round. We had to keep taking breaks because the sun was beating down on us that day. We didn’t expect it to be so hot. We didn’t return home until well after five o’clock.”
“Mr. Davis’ body was discovered around six o’clock that evening,” stated the defense attorney. “The coroner stated that he had been dead for at least four hours. If Alan was out with Oliver that day, how would he have had time to come home, murder Matthew Davis, and still somehow have him be dead for four hours? The math doesn’t add up here.”
I glan
ce over at the jury, taking them all in. I try to figure out which ones of them took the bribe. There’s twelve people sitting there; some of them were eager to take money to change the outcome of this case. Money was more important to them than justice for Matthew’s family. His sister has been in hysterics since the trial began.
“I rest,” the attorney said, going back to sit next to Alan at the table.
The prosecutor stands up. He’s a younger man, probably with a lot to prove. He looks to be around Oliver’s age, with a freshly cleaned suit and buzzed hair. He’s been harsh in his previous cross-examinations, almost bringing the gardener, who found Matthew’s body, to tears.
“Mr. Windsor, Oliver,” he addressed him. “Did you know Matthew Davis when he was alive?”
“Yes,” said Oliver defensively. I wonder if that makes him look suspicious or not. Not like that would matter to this jury. They eagerly accepted money to look the other way when things like this come up.
“And how did you know him?” asked the prosecutor.
“Matthew has done business with my father for years. I don’t know the nature of the business, but I know he was a fixture in our home for a few years. More so once my father married Camille.”
“And did you, or your father, ever expect it was because Camille and Matthew had a relationship? Because if you noticed he was around more when she was there...it would seem rather suspicious.”
“No,” Oliver’s voice is firm, “I never expected anything between Camille and Matthew. I thought Matthew had more respect for his relationship with my father than that.”
“Objection. Strike the personal opinion from the record,” said the prosecutor, glancing up at the judge, who nodded in return.
“Strike Mr. Windsor’s personal opinion from the record. Mr. Windsor, please stick to answering the questions and not providing commentary.”
“What relationship did Matthew have with your father?”
“I don’t know,” shrugged Oliver.
Fake Love Rich Boss Series Page 13
