“Sometimes these things get ugly. You have any trouble at all, you can call me. I have friends. They’ll come get you out of any situation.” Lana snapped her fingers and held out her hand. “Give me your cell.”
Soleil had no idea why in the world she would allow a perfect stranger to take her cell phone, but she did. She pulled it from her pocket, keyed in the code and handed it to Lana.
“I meant what I said. He’s already proven he’s willing to put his hands on you, so when you break it off, make certain you’re not alone with him. Have your cell handy and call the cops. If you can’t, you call me, understand?” Lana turned and pointed to her vest even as she programmed her number into Soleil’s cell. “It’s under Lana. Don’t you forget it.”
There was a very cool tree with ravens in the branches and skulls in the roots on the back of her vest. A rocker above the tree proclaimed her Torpedo Ink. The one below said Sea Haven-Caspar. Soleil had heard of Sea Haven but not Sea Haven-Caspar and had no idea where that was, or what Torpedo Ink was, other than a club, but it was cool as hell and this was Soleil’s first time ever talking to a woman who rode motorcycles.
“We’re in Vegas celebrating our brother’s wedding to his woman, but you call, you understand? He lays his hands on you again or does anything that frightens you, lock yourself in a room and call.” She handed Soleil back her phone. “Someone will come for you, I promise.”
“Thanks.” Soleil wrapped her hands around her phone as if it were a lifeline. Maybe it was. At least, it was the first truly nice thing someone had done for her since Kevin had died.
Lana gave a friendly wave and walked out.
Soleil stared after her for a long time. She wanted to be like that. Smart. Sophisticated. Independent. She wanted to take charge of her life. Make her own decisions. She sighed. Who was she kidding? She was terrified without her lawyer. Still, she was determined to get herself out of the mess she was in. She knew she’d created it through her own apathy.
Washing her hands for the third time, she took a deep breath. She had been paralyzed with grief since her lawyer died. Her parents had been killed in a car accident when she was four and she’d gone to live with her aunt Deborah. She’d passed away when Soleil was eight.
She went to live with her aunt Constance. That lasted until she was ten, mostly because Constance thought she would have access to Soleil’s trust fund, but Kevin kept a tight grip on it. He refused to allow her aunt anything more than it would have cost to have Soleil living with her. Constance had been furious over that and let Soleil know every chance she got how unfair it was and just how much trouble it was to have a brat living with her.
Soleil was put in a series of boarding schools from that time on. She studied abroad. She lived in various hotels because she had nowhere else to go when she wasn’t in school. The only constant in her life was her lawyer, and she’d come to rely on him for just about everything, although, truthfully, she rarely saw him. Mostly they talked on the phone or via email, text or messenger. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t seen him, he was always there.
She could text anytime, day or night, and he answered her. He advised her. He took care of her trust and allowed her to go to art school. She traveled to all the wonderful art galleries all over the world and painted in France, Italy and Greece. When she got into any kind of trouble, he got her out.
She met Winston Trent in London at Sotheby’s. They talked for quite a while. He was friendly and knowledgeable about art. Like Soleil, he lived in San Francisco and was on his way back to the States. They were on the same plane and coincidentally seated next to each other. They laughed over that and spent most of the plane ride home talking. She hadn’t talked so much or laughed more in years. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she had a friend.
They dated, going to dinner, movies, fund-raising events that Winston insisted on. Before she had gone alone and felt out of place. She was just so happy to be with someone. She’d been so lonely. She was so desperate for a relationship that even though he often did and said things that sent up red flags, she ignored them and tried harder to please him. Looking back, she could see how he’d pushed her constantly, even when she’d been uncomfortable with how fast things were moving, but he hadn’t listened. She began talking nightly with Kevin Bennet. Her lawyer wasn’t happy with the fact that Winston wanted to put a ring on her finger so fast.
She had always wanted to be wild and impulsive with her man. She actually dreamt of it often, but Winston didn’t inspire that in her. She had thought, because she’d met him in Europe, that he was adventurous, but he wasn’t. Not in the least. He told her he was a businessman and he wanted her to look a certain way. To dress a certain way. He even gave her a list of people he insisted she “meet” and “cultivate” as friends. When she questioned him, he told her he wanted to make certain she moved in the right circles and she needed to just let him guide her.
Soleil glanced at herself in the mirror one more time. She wished she could be like Lana. Tall. Gorgeous. Perfectly in control. She wore her jeans and vest like royalty. No one would dare lay their hands on her unless she wanted them to. Soleil shoved her phone into the little pocket of the sundress she wore and kept her hand there, holding on for just a minute to the stranger who had shown her kindness.
She had tried to get Winston to be adventurous, at least in bed. Something other than his roll on top of her and roll off again while she lay staring at the ceiling wondering if that was all there was to love and living together. How would she know? She’d never witnessed a real relationship. Neither aunt had been married, and Kevin had talked to her via text most of the time.
She straightened her shoulders and imagined herself to be Lana. Lana wasn’t about to put up with a man who didn’t satisfy her or listen to her in bed. She would never let him scare her into marriage. She’d tell him it was over. That was exactly what Soleil was going to do.
Soleil glanced at the woman who held out a small, immaculate towel for her to dry her hands for the third time. “She’s right, isn’t she?” she asked her.
The attendant glanced around the large gold and ivory bathroom, making certain no one could see or hear her give advice, and then she nodded.
Feeling empowered, Soleil smiled at her and left. She had to ask the outside attendant the way to the elevators, but she found them. Then she had to talk to another attendant there, and he escorted her to the proper one. She was in a suite at the top of the tower. She slid her flat gold key into the elevator and took the ride up to her rooms. There were only four suites at the top of the tower. Her room was directly across from the elevator access.
She was used to the best hotels and often had a suite, but this luxury suite was so over the top and ridiculous for the two of them when they planned on being in Vegas just for a couple of nights. Winston had insisted, and she’d found herself going along with his plans, just as she had ever since Kevin Bennet had died.
The suite was nearly two thousand square feet with a gleaming grand piano in the middle of the marble floor. Glass walls gave them a view of Las Vegas that was unparalleled. A fireplace and wet bar added to the ambience in the room. The balcony stretched out for what seemed forever, curving around the building so they could enjoy the sun and breeze. Winston had told her she deserved the best and he wanted her to have it. It was too much.
He’d been rude to the staff at the hotel, complaining about everything. That was the only way to get people to come up to the right standards, he’d told her, and she’d have to learn to deal with those in menial labor positions. They’d argued over that as well until he’d just shut her down by telling her she was too young and naïve to understand how the world worked. In business and politics, one had to assert themselves at all times. Eventually, he planned to go into politics, and he needed a wife trained to handle anything.
Most of this mess was her fault and she had to place the blame directly on her o
wn shoulders. She had let Winston run her life when she’d been without direction. She still had no idea what she wanted to do, but it wasn’t marrying a man she wasn’t happy with. She was tense all the time and found she was getting headaches when she’d never been prone to them.
When had he changed? He’d been funny and attentive, listening to everything she said in the art gallery and on the plane. She’d thought they had so much in common, but once he’d actually managed to get her to go out with him, the changes had started. At first, they were subtle. He didn’t like a certain outfit, and would she mind changing? He didn’t like her boots, they made her look too young. Why would she wear that short denim jacket when she had some really beautiful jackets? She should have noticed sooner instead of trying to please him.
Winston was pacing across the long, wide floor as she entered. He looked up quickly as she closed the door, that flat, golden key clutched in her hand as if it were a good luck talisman. He skirted around the piano and rushed to her.
“I was so worried, Soleil. I must have texted you a hundred times. Come in and sit down, darling.” Not waiting for a reply, he took her wrist and pulled her across the room to the low-slung couch.
The couch was nearest the door and guest bathroom, but still too far into the enormous room for her to be entirely comfortable. The room made her feel as if it were going to swallow her whole. Still, she sat down, clutching the golden key to the elevator, feeling as if it would see her through the discussion she needed to have with him.
“I’ll get us both a drink and we can talk.”
Why did she hate the sound of his voice? He always said the right thing, but his tone was condescending, or, like now, when he tried to convey worry and sympathy, he sounded as if he were acting—and he wasn’t all that good of an actor. Still, a drink sounded good. She hadn’t eaten anything, but a drink might be just the thing to help her explain that she was going to call off their wedding for good.
“I don’t know why I lost my temper, but I really am sorry. I was so afraid I’d lose you and I reacted like a madman.”
He poured her a small glass of whiskey. She preferred whiskey, and she really needed it, especially as he was giving her his sweetest, most boyish look designed to make her feel bad for him.
“Here, darling, drink that and we’ll talk.”
He drank half the glass he’d poured for himself in one gulp, so without thinking, Soleil tossed back a good portion of the whiskey and nearly choked. Tears burned and for a moment her throat felt like it was on fire. She could barely catch her breath.
Winston regarded her over the top of his crystal glass, amusement on his face. He did that a lot—laughed at her. Not overtly, but definitely he found her amusing and not in a good way. It was as if she was so young and naïve, and he was worldly, and she couldn’t quite catch up. She supposed she deserved his estimation of her. It didn’t matter that she knew she could drink him under the table, she shouldn’t have tried to throw back half a glass.
“Winston, I—”
He held up his hand. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re such a sweet, compassionate woman and I know you’re going to just dismiss my bad behavior, but it was terrible, and I need to give you my word nothing like that will ever happen again. I feel sick about my behavior. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Over the course of the last couple of months, there had been numerous promises. She couldn’t even remember what they were, but thinking back, he’d never come through. She nodded and cautiously crossed the room to get a bottle of water. The whiskey was doing what she needed though, making her feel as if she could tell him what she needed to.
“Winston,” she began again after taking a soothing sip of water and reseating herself. “This isn’t going to work between us. I think you know that.”
“Of course it is. I made a mistake. It was absolutely stupid of me, but I was so afraid of losing you. Lately, we’ve been out of sync . . .”
“Exactly.” She pounced on that. “I feel as if you don’t like anything about me. Not one thing, Winston. The way I dress. My friends. The way I talk. You have to correct everything I do and then I’m still not good enough.”
“Darling.”
He looked terribly distressed, so much so that her heart hurt. She didn’t like hurting anyone. She finished off the whiskey and automatically handed him the glass when he put out his hand for it.
Winston took it from her and crossed to the bar. “If I made you feel like that, you should have told me immediately. I love you with every breath I take. I want to be your husband and go through life with you.”
“We don’t like the same movies or music.” Soleil felt a little desperate. He was looking a little like a kicked puppy instead of a barracuda, and she wasn’t good at all with hurting people. She kept trying to assert herself even as she took the drink from him.
“Keep going, Soleil. I had no idea you thought I wasn’t happy with you. I need to hear this. It’s the only way to fix what’s broken between us.”
“You don’t like to dance. You aren’t in the least bit proud of the way I look. You want me to change my hair and makeup and wear clothes I consider far too old for me. I don’t understand why you think you love me, Winston.”
“You are so wrong, Soleil. How could you think I’m not proud of you? I told you I wanted to get into politics. I was trying to help you, so you’d feel comfortable when we’re attending the kinds of fund-raisers and charity events where we’d need to be seen.”
She detested the events he wanted to go to. They were hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars a plate, very stuffy. She felt everyone was looking down on her. He would sometimes grab her elbow and drag her into a corner and hiss at her that he’d told her to study the list of people he wanted her to talk to. Everyone else there was to be smiled at but ignored. How could an event be fun if she had assignments and failed at all of them, especially when she carefully memorized every single name on his list? She wasn’t going to be rude and ignore people who talked to her.
She took another drink and shook her head. “I can’t marry you, Winston. That’s the bottom line. It isn’t going to work. I’m not happy. You’re not happy. I’m giving you back your ring . . .”
He went very still, only feet from her, his eyes going from that watchful amusement to dark and a little scary. Suddenly, the large room seemed too small.
“Soleil. Stop right there. Don’t make a fool of yourself. We are getting married. It’s ridiculous for you to suddenly decide after one small slip to throw me over. You’re acting like the spoiled child I know you to be, and I’m not going to put up with it. If this is about that idiotic prenup, I’m not asking you to sign one to protect me. Even your lawyer agrees it’s ridiculous. I have far more to lose than you do.”
She stood to make herself taller, tilted her chin, narrowed her eyes at him and took another cautious sip of the whiskey. “I am not going to marry you. Prenup or not. It isn’t going to happen.” And if he was so damned wealthy, why was she always the one paying for everything? She should ask, but something kept her from doing so. It always did.
“I realize you’re very young and you’re upset over Bennet’s death. I found you a lawyer and I told you I’d deal with the businesses and the finances. You don’t have to do anything but your art. I didn’t realize you were so close to your lawyer, but I should have.”
She wasn’t certain what to do when he used his reasonable tone on her and reduced her to being a not-quite-bright child. He did it often and now, examining the last few weeks, she realized just how often. She always backed off when he did that, feeling inferior. She had degrees in art and art history. His degrees were all practical, in business and finance. He had said they would work well together, and it had sounded a perfect match. It wasn’t.
Soleil took another drink, emptying the glass, and went to the bar herself to pour anoth
er short drink before she tried again. The alcohol was kicking in and giving her more courage. “It’s true, Kevin’s death really threw me. He’s all the family I had, as crazy as that sounds. I’m not comfortable with Donald Monroe. He doesn’t listen to me and he doesn’t answer my questions. He just says not to worry, he’ll take care of things.”
“Isn’t that why we hired him?” Winston sounded as if he was holding on to his patience by a thread. He didn’t sound like the man she’d met only a few weeks earlier. What had happened to him?
“You hired him. You didn’t give me a chance to interview him or even talk to him first. I don’t know the first thing about him.”
“Someone needed to watch out for you, and you were too grief-stricken to do it.”
“We could have waited a few weeks.”
Anger flashed across his face. She watched as he swallowed what he was going to say and then he doubled his fist. Deliberately, he clenched and then unclenched his fingers. “Soleil. Is that the reason for all this? You’re upset because we hired Monroe? When we get back from our honeymoon, I’ll fire him.” His voice turned conciliatory and he even smiled benevolently at her. “I can get rid of him just as easily as I hired him.”
She had to stop arguing and just insist. He wasn’t listening to her, and it was still all about him. Not her. She wasn’t going to fire Monroe. He was going to do it. He was going to be very, very shocked to learn she’d already done it.
“Winston, you don’t seem to get what I’m telling you. I am not getting married to you. Not now. Not later. There isn’t going to be a honeymoon. I’ve already called and officially fired Monroe. I followed up with the necessary legal papers. I went to someone here to help me. Monroe isn’t working for me nor is anyone from that firm.” Not after she’d called him about the prenup and he’d said to skip it, it wasn’t necessary. Even she knew better.
“You did what?” His face darkened with rage. He stepped into her, took the mostly empty glass of whiskey from her and threw it sideways away from them. The glass shattered against the piano.
Vendetta Road Page 4
