by Gemma James
Part of it is absolutely true.
“You should’ve had your phone on!” Ned rounds on me, gaze aflame with accusation.
The guilt inside me grows another tooth, sinking deeper into my gut. “I know.” The heel of my foot is itching to tap the floor, but I remain as still as stone in one of my father’s leather seats. A glass with two fingers of bourbon is clutched in my hand, compliments of my father.
I haven’t taken a single sip.
“Calm down, Ned,” Roni says. “Cash couldn’t have known she’d do something like this.” She might be soft spoken, but her ice blue gaze sparks reproach, and I see my wife in her like I always do.
Strikingly beautiful.
Sharp. Strong. Brutal.
The anger bleeds from Ned’s face, and he regards me again, calmer this time. “Do the police have any leads?”
I hesitate a second before shaking my head. I’ve told no one about Kaden’s involvement.
Ned stops pacing and takes a seat next to me, and his empty glass thuds on the side table separating us. “Give me your take,” he says. “Is my daughter capable of doing something like…” He trails off, shoulders slumping. Even Ned Blake’s world is shaking under his feet.
“She hasn’t been herself for months. I just don’t…I don’t know.” I hang my head, wishing I knew more. Wishing I’d paid more attention.
Wishing I didn’t feel so fucking useless.
Blackwell clears his throat, and the heavy moment shatters. “I need to speak to Cash alone.”
Ned glares at the attorney. “You’re not shutting me out. She’s my daughter.”
“I understand, but the best thing you can do for your daughter is to let me do my job.”
Ned rises, but he’s not happy about being asked to leave. Blackwell, however, is loyal to my family—he’s been on the payroll for as long as I can remember. Probably before I was born.
Ned ushers my mother and Roni out of the study. My father exchanges a few words with Blackwell, spoken so low I can’t hear what they’re saying, then he exits the room, face blank. If he’s upset about being pushed out, he doesn’t show it.
Now it’s just the attorney and me, and I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. Him, I can handle.
“Just so we’re clear,” he says, taking the seat Ned just vacated, “anything you say is confidential. Not even your father will learn of what you tell me.”
“I understand.”
“Good. So will you tell me where you were today?”
“I’m pretty sure you can guess where I was.”
He nods. “If it comes to it, we’ll have to use her as an alibi.”
“I’ve already told the police the truth. They have their alibi.” I hesitate telling him about Kaden, but I have no doubt Detective Riley will be looking into him as well. “My brother, on the other hand, might be in some trouble.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The detective showed me surveillance photos of Monica leaving the parking garage today. Kaden was with her, but they thought it was me.”
“That is a problem. I’ll need to talk to Kaden before I leave here tonight.”
I shake my head. “I need some time alone with him first. I’ll have him stop by your office tomorrow morning.”
Blackwell searches my face for several seconds before nodding his agreement, and just like that, he drops it. We discuss the photo I received several weeks ago, Monica’s odd behavior, and what little I know about Lydia Hirsch. An hour later, we leave the study, and I find Kaden waiting in the living room, alone. Blackwell bids me goodbye, promising he’ll be in touch soon.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
“Dad’s been on the phone since I got here.” Kaden nods toward the garden room where I spot our father pacing with his cell to his ear though the French doors. “And Mom gave Roni a sleeping pill and set her up in one of the spare rooms.” Clashing sounds come from the kitchen, and that answers where she went after she got Veronica Blake settled in. Mom deals with stress that way—by cleaning shit in the kitchen, even in the middle of the night.
“And Ned?”
“He’s in the library with a bottle of something.”
I settle next to my brother on the couch. His knee is bumping up and down, and he seems as frayed around the edges as I feel. “Probably for the best it’s just you and me. We need to talk.”
Kaden must have detected the hard edge to my tone. He sits up a little straighter. “What’s on your mind?”
“How about we cut through the bullshit? You’ve been fucking my wife.”
The accusation settles between us, heavier than an elephant. Kaden stares at me for five long seconds before getting up and turning his back to me, both hands raking through his dark hair. “I haven’t slept with her.”
“You expect me to believe that? The detective showed me a photo of the two of you kissing today. Or did you forget about the cameras in the parking garage?”
Kaden drags in a deep breath before letting it out. Then he turns and faces me. “I mean it. I haven’t been with her…not since you guys got married.”
I jump to my feet, hands clenching at my sides. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Kaden lets out a sigh. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t want me to find out at all.”
“You’re right.” He reclaims his seat on the couch, and something about the dejected set of his shoulders pricks underneath my anger.
“You need to be straight with me. A woman is dead and Monica is missing. Now’s not the time to keep shit from me.”
He glances up, slowly nodding, as if the coming conversation is an inevitability he can’t escape. “Monica and I were…involved before you got married.”
I blink, but it does nothing to dispel the shock building inside me. Suddenly, I’m looking at my twin—a man who is my mirror image—in a whole new light.
Almost as if I don’t know him at all.
“When, and how long?”
“Off and on for years, right until the wedding.” He looks away with a hard swallow, because there’s no skirting the fact that even then, they were fucking behind my back.
“How did I not know this?”
“The Blakes didn’t approve, so we kept it discrete.” He shrugs. “You were the one they wanted her with, man.”
“And what about Monica? What did she want?”
“She wanted the company and everything that came with it.”
My stomach tightens with utter sickness. I wander toward the French doors and watch our father pace behind the glass, cell to his ear. He’s oblivious to the brewing argument in the next room. “I was just a substitute that happened to look exactly like you.”
“That’s not true. She cares about you.”
“She hasn’t let me touch her in months!” I whirl, heartbeat knocking behind my ribcage, and glare at my brother.
My fucking brother, of all people, who fucking betrayed me.
“Why do you think that is, Kade? And don’t you dare tell me nothing’s been going on.”
“You’ve gotta believe me,” he says, an undeniable plea in his tone. “After Monica made her choice, I accepted it.”
“You expect me to believe you haven’t been screwing her all this time?”
“I haven’t, and that’s the truth.”
“If not you, then who? I have a photo that proves she’s been screwing someone. It sure as hell isn’t me.”
“You have a photo?”
“Someone sent it to me two months ago.”
Kaden seems to consider that for a moment. “Mom told me about the affair. I confronted Monica while you were in Oklahoma.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I wanted to hear her side of it.”
“Because you’re in love with her?”
“Because you’re my brother, and I needed to hear it from her.”
The angles of his face are cut from
guilt. I read between the lines of his non-denial, but for now, I let it go. “Did she admit it?”
“She told me to mind my own business.”
“That sounds like Monica. She’s been shutting me out for months. I don’t know who she is anymore. Apparently, I don’t know you as well as I thought I did either.”
“I’m still your brother. I swear to God I haven’t touched her since the wedding.”
“Your word doesn’t carry the same weight it did. If I’m to believe everything at face value, then Monica’s been fucking someone else, and you’re still someone I can trust.”
“You can trust me.”
“Then tell me what happened in that parking garage.”
“She called asking if I’d heard from you, but she sounded off, so I went to your place. Found her in the garage loading a duffle into her car.” Kaden’s brows draw together at the memory. “She was a mess, crying, saying shit that didn’t make sense.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No. She said she needed to get out of town for a while. I tried to stop her from leaving, but she was too upset and wouldn’t listen to me.” Kaden pauses. “Now it’s my turn. Where were you when all of this went down?”
Another heavy beat passes as I twirl my wedding band around my finger. I’d do anything to go back to yesterday when the ring sat abandoned on Jules’ nightstand. For a glorious twenty-four hours, I’d felt free and alive with her. “Where do you think I was?”
Kaden gives a slow nod. “I figured as much.”
“Not that you have the right to judge, but I was about to tell Monica I wanted a divorce.”
“Seriously?”
“You sound surprised.” And that pisses me off even more. “I had no intention of sneaking around on her.”
“Jules must mean a lot to you.”
I settle onto the couch again and fall quiet for a few moments. My relationship with Jules is still new. It’s precarious—especially after what happened tonight because I don’t even know if my wife is dead or alive.
“I’m in love with her.”
“Sometimes you can’t help who you love.” His words cut through me in a way I don’t like, pricking at my anger all over again. I push it back to deal with later.
“I don’t know how I got here.” Slumping forward, I rest my elbows on my knees. “I loved Monica in the beginning, or I thought I did.”
“I think you needed to believe it was love.”
What he left unspoken bounces around my head. The attraction was there, a seed on the cusp of budding into something that could have been real.
Except for the man standing between us that I’d known nothing about.
If only our parents hadn’t pressured us into marrying for the sake of the merger, maybe things could have been different. By giving in, we’d doomed ourselves from the beginning. Maybe I knew it all along. Maybe I even knew it before I said my vows.
Maybe she did too.
I don’t know what sent her on a downward spiral, but it’s painfully clear that Monica and I have no business being together.
“Dad said she left a note?” Kaden’s words are spoken with a gruffness I’m not used to hearing from him, and in my mind’s eye, I see the note with brutal clarity.
Forgive me for what I’ve done. I can’t go on like this anymore.
I relay Monica’s scrawled words, and silence stretches between us, the air thick with the possible meanings behind her note. The grandfather clock in the hall announces the late hour, fracturing the uneasy quiet, and our father comes through the French doors.
And the night stretches endlessly before me.
3. Everything Changes
Jules
Cash never came back last night.
For what seems like the thousandth time, I glance at my silent cell lying on the kitchen counter.
He never came back.
That doesn’t bother me as much as the absence of a text. Trying not to come off as clingy, I only sent him two messages. But he hasn’t replied—not last night, and not this morning—and that makes me nervous. He’s never ignored my texts before, and the fact that he’s doing it now, right after we spent the weekend in bed together, has me panicking.
My stomach is in knots, and I’m afraid I’m going to barf. A glance at the clock tightens the ball of apprehension in my gut. I’m supposed to leave for work in an hour. Usually, I fall out of bed after hitting the snooze button a few times, but I couldn’t sleep.
I’ve been up and dressed for a while now, and there isn’t a part of my apartment that hasn’t been a victim to my pacing. There isn’t a part that isn’t spotless either. I’ve made the bed, dusted, swept, and mopped. Even though it hurt like hell, I threw out the sunflower bouquet he gave me. I’m thinking about organizing the dinky space in my closet when a knock sounds.
My heart slams to a halt as I eye the door. Swallowing past the nervous lump rising in my throat, I pad across the room, and my hand shakes as I turn the knob. I have no clue what I’m going to find on the other side.
Gorgeous stormy eyes filled with regret because he changed his mind? Or possibly anger…if things didn’t go well with his wife. What I don’t expect to find is this ragged version of Cash. His eyes are bloodshot, and though he’s dressed in a suit, ready to face the day, he doesn’t look as if he slept more than a few minutes last night.
He leans forward, both hands braced on the doorframe. “Can I come in?”
Jesus. The gravelly sound of his voice does strange things to my stomach. I open the door and gesture for him to cross the threshold. He steps inside with bone-tired footfalls, and fear takes residence in the trenches of my gut.
Something is wrong.
I shut the door and turn to face him, but he’s got his back to me as he wanders into my living room, raking his fingers through dark mussed up hair. He’s the picture of disheveled. The epitome of despondent. I try to find my voice but fail. Just last night, he had me up against the wall by the door. Just last night, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving me.
Just last night, I told him I loved him.
“Cash?” A tremor steals my tone.
He comes to a stop in front of my sofa then sinks into the cushions, almost as if his legs can’t hold him up anymore. “I’m sorry I didn’t return your texts. I didn’t get freed up until three in the morning.” Raising his head, he locks eyes with me, and the needy glint in them coaxes my bare feet across the room. Before I question myself, I sit next to him and lace our fingers together.
“It’s okay. You’re here now.”
“It’s not okay.” Scooting to face me, he brushes his knuckles across my cheek. “I’m assuming you haven’t seen the news yet?”
I can’t speak, so I shake my head.
“I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it. Monica is missing.”
My heart tumbles into a nosedive. Of all the scenarios tearing through my mind, leaving utter chaos in their wake, that wasn’t one of them. Still unable to find my voice, I wait for him to continue.
“The police were at my building last night when I got home.” He squeezes my hand as if drawing the strength to go on. “A woman was found dead in our penthouse. The police suspect Monica of being involved.”
His words slam into me like well-aimed bricks. I return the grip of his hand, and I can only imagine the shock and anguish that’s going through his head right now. “What happened?”
“There was a struggle. The police think it might have been an accident, but they’re not ruling out homicide.” He swallows hard. “She left a suicide note.”
I suck in a breath. Lord knows I’m not a fan of his wife, but while we were fucking the weekend away in my bedroom, she was going through something horrible that might have sent her over the edge.
But over the edge enough to kill someone? To harm herself?
“Do you think she…I mean, is there a possibility she found out about us?”
He
drags his long fingers through his hair—fingers that touched every part of my body over the weekend. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible.”
“What can I do?”
“They asked for my whereabouts this weekend.” He squeezes my hand again. “I had to tell them I was here with you. I’m sorry to put you in this position.”
“Don’t apologize. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“Thank you.” His voice is thick. Strained. Disbelief is an arresting emotion, and it’s flitting across his face in painful waves. Anguished steel eyes burn into me, bringing on the threat of tears.
I shouldn’t want to touch him the way I do—with feverish longing rushing through my veins. Not under the circumstances. Fighting the need to crawl onto his lap and wrap my arms around him, I settle for returning the tight grip of his hand.
This is our lifeline—the holding of hands, the unwavering lock of gazes, the connection that’s only grown more powerful since the day we met. There’s no coming back from how we feel, no matter the circumstances.
“Jules…does it make me a total asshole for wanting you in my arms right now?”
“If that’s the case, then we’re both assholes.”
With a tug on my hand, he coaxes me to straddle him and winds his arms around me, like two bands of immovable strength holding me hostage.
But this is where I belong, and there isn’t a thing in the world that will change that truth. As I sink my fingers into his hair, the tips of my breasts brush his solid chest. His stormy gaze settles on my mouth, and his innate intensity ignites an inferno between us.
Making me wet.
Making him harder than steel.
I don’t have to grind on him to know it’s true.
Letting out a sigh, he rests his head against the back of the couch. “I should have been strong enough to stay away from you today. If the media catches wind of an affair on top of everything else…”
Blinking rapidly, I ward off the hurt stinging my eyeballs. “I thought this was more than an affair.”
