All His Secrets (Manhattan Misters Book 1)

by Maya Hughes

  It wasn’t until I set my bag down that I realized the singing wasn’t from the radio. It was from Esme. There they were. My girls. It hit me so hard, like a gut punch when I looked at them stringing popcorn garland around the tree. She was so carefree and happy. Mel did that. She gave me back my little girl.

  I stood and watched them for a while, so engrossed in their task, they didn’t even notice me. The lights they’d already strung twinkled and the light bounced off the large windows in front of the tree. Mel had a chair pulled up tight to the tree and Esme handed her ornaments. Some of the ornaments were homemade. It looked like they’d been made today. Tracings of their hands made to look like birds, something made of clay, and others that went along with the crystal and glass ornaments I’d had Rachel pick up earlier.

  This felt right. I’d sent Rachel to get the ornaments I got every year. The ones my parents had for the photo ops in front of the tree as the perfect family. Looking at them now, I shook my head. I’d fallen into their trap again. This was better. It felt better, like a real family. Is that what we are now? Are we a family? Would Mel still be here, if I weren’t paying her?

  She glanced over her shoulder and caught my eye. A huge smile spread across her face.

  “You’re home,” she said.

  Esme turned and ran to me, jumping into my arms. Mel came over and wrapped her arms around me too. As I breathed them both in, the two women in my life, I didn’t care if she wouldn’t be here otherwise. I’d think about it later. Worry about it later. Right now, I just wanted to be. The baggage of the day melted away when I had them in my arms and I’d do whatever I needed to do to keep them there.

  I had a feeling this Christmas would be better than any we’d had before. Growing up, I despised Christmas. Maybe that was why I preferred to keep it impersonal with the tree my parents chose. Everyone always thought Christmas must have been the most amazing thing when you had parents like mine. They were so generous, so loving, so caring. But they didn’t know who they really were.

  Their guilt and shame at how he made his money ate away at my father. Infected his mind and turned his altruism into a disease. One that robbed me of a childhood and of loving, caring parents. I was never allowed anything of my own. Every toy, every gift, every personal possession would be taken from me the moment they felt I cared too much about it. ‘Someone deserves it more,’ ‘you already have so much,’ those were the refrains of my childhood. And if I protested too much, I’d felt the sting of my father’s hand more than once. So much for charity starting at home.

  My closets were bare except for my school uniform and three sets of clothes. When any of my nannies commented on my lack of toys, books, clothes or anything else like that, they were out, replaced by the next one. I’d sit in a barren room with nothing but a bed and a lamp and stare out the windows as other kids rode their bikes or jumped ropes outside. My grandmother, perhaps sensing that something was amiss, gave me a book.

  A standard children’s book, nothing special about it, but it was everything. I cherished it. I read it every night, tucking it under my pillow when I went to bed. I had every line committed to memory. Every picture, every bend and crease of the book. It was the one thing that was finally mine. And when she died it became even more important to me. She would bake with me, spend time with me, she’d been the only one who seemed to care about me for just being me.

  Every year the tree was piled high with presents, but I knew none were for me. My parents would take pictures in front of them and do interviews about all their good work. And it was the same every year, “our son Rhys would like to donate every gift he’s gotten to the less fortunate.” I was fine with it, it didn’t bother me at this point. But they brought in another child for a special gift for me to give away.

  They handed it to me and brought me face-to-face with the little boy. He had scraggly hair, overly large clothes, but otherwise he could have been my mirror image. Same hair, same eyes. I smiled at him and he smiled back. Even then I knew how to play my part, but for him I was happy to give him something new.

  Cameras trained on us. My mother handed the ornately wrapped present to me. The red and green bow sparkled with glitter and covered at least half the gift and as soon as my hands touched it they trembled. I’d committed that book to memory, inside and out. Every aspect of it seared into my memory. I held it every day, read it every day.

  “Give it to him. You must not be selfish. You already have so much,” my dad said from behind me, his grip on my shoulder tightening. I clutched it to my chest and my father squeezed my shoulder so hard it made me whimper, but I didn’t want to hand it over. It wasn’t until he jabbed the bruise I already had under my shirt that I let go of it.

  I held it out to the boy and watched him rip into the paper. Each tear exposed what I already knew. They’d taken it from me. I lunged without thinking and my dad grabbed me, jamming his fist into my back, bringing tears to my eyes. I bit my tongue so hard the salty copper of blood flooded my mouth, but I held back my tears. I knew what would happen if I let one fall. You can’t beat altruism into someone, but that didn’t mean my father didn’t try.

  “You already have more than enough. It’s not for you,” he said. Nothing ever was. And that was the last day I lived with them. The last day I was home, not that there was much to go home to. They shipped me off to boarding school until they died. Boarding school where I could finally have some freedom, make friends, and begin a life all my own.

  They comforted and consoled me, offering their condolences for my loss. It seemed the world was sad, but not me. People swore I’d be heartbroken. I didn’t know them as the charitable and goodhearted people everyone else did. They had a sickness in my eyes. They were so clouded by the need to make up for what they’d done that I didn’t even get a chance to have a real childhood. I was an instrument of their altruism, used to show just how selfless they were. They’d withheld something that didn’t cost a thing, their love and affection.

  26

  Mel

  My morning went from bad to worse when I came back from dropping Esme off at school as the heavens opened and a freak hail storm pelted me with ice with five blocks to go. Derek followed us to school in the car, but once I’d dropped Esme off I told him to go ahead. Stupid on my part for not checking the forecast. As I ran under the safety of the entrance of the building the doorman held the door open for me, but held his hand up to stop me.

  “Ms. Bright, you have a visitor,” he said, pointing to the far side of the entrance. My stomach plummeted. Colleen. She looked a hell of a lot worse than the last time I’d seen her. She looked to be down to the last few teeth. Her face was gaunt with her scraggly blond hair pulled up in a ponytail. She’d been pretty once. I still remember all the men who paraded through the house who thought as much. But those days were long behind her.

  I shuddered to think I could have ended up like her. If it weren’t for Shannon. I might have only lived with her for a year, but she was my mom. She was more a mom to me in that one year than Colleen had been in my whole life.

  Even though Shannon and Ben broke my heart. Even though they didn’t want me after all. At least I’d had my time there. My time where I felt like I was important. Maybe that was enough to save me. I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her around the corner. The last thing I needed was Rhys, Derek, or someone else coming back and seeing her here. Me bringing my baggage into his life wasn’t part of the deal.

  “Looks like you finally got back to where you always thought you belonged, huh? Finally found another rich family to take you in?” she said as she stumbled to keep up with me. I ducked under the awning of a nearby shop and spun to face her.

  “What do you want, Colleen?” I said, folding my arms across my chest. The sooner she spewed her venom the sooner I could get rid of her.

  “Can’t a mother come visit her daughter in the big city? You never call, you never write. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you didn’t want to see me,
” she said, cackling, and she bent over as a coughing fit overcame her.

  “I told you not to come. You wiped out my account, you should have more than enough. I even put some extra in there. You told me you lost the card to the account,” I said, my eyes shooting daggers at her. She smiled slyly, her missing teeth on full display.

  “I did lose it and then I found it again. And when I checked it, I found out you’ve been holding out on me. Always telling me you don’t have any money. Nothing to give me. I’m your mother, dammit. I deserve some respect.” That was the final straw.

  “You think you deserve my respect? You think after all the shit you pulled when I was growing up that you deserve anything?” I said, backing her up and out from under the protection of the awning. My hands shook and I tucked them tighter against myself.

  “You always thought you were better, didn’t you, especially after coming back from that family. Thought you deserved so much more.”

  “I thought I deserved clean clothes and food, Colleen. Any kid deserves that,” I said, my voice going up an octave. She rolled her eyes. This was going nowhere. I needed her to leave. I needed her gone. Now.

  “Why are you here? What do you want?”

  “I need more money. I’m sure you have that now. You’ve got this big fancy job. Won’t return my calls. Give me some money and I’ll go away,” she said, ducking her head as bits of icy rain pelted her.

  “Fine. But if I give you this money, you leave, do you hear me? You leave and you never come back. I don’t want to hear from you ever again. I don’t want you coming near me. I want you gone.”

  Her head nodded before I even finished my sentence. A part of me was sad that my own mother would agree to something like this, that she didn’t even care enough to put up a fight. And the rest of me was so relieved that I’d never have to see her again. That I’d never have to look at her face and have it reflect back all the screwed up crap I’d lived through.

  “Fine, I can catch the next bus home, if you get me the money in two hours,” she said, grinning.

  Even more reason for me to hurry. She gave me the bus deport address across the river and I told her I’d bring her the money. I hadn’t spent much since I started working for Rhys. The paychecks were ridiculous anyway. I’d made more in a couple months than I’d made in nearly a year at the diner. Giving her some of it would set back my plans by only a couple of months. Plans I didn’t even know if I’d go through with. I didn’t know how long Rhys would keep me around. How long this thing between us would last. What are we? What am I to him? I didn’t know yet and I was afraid to learn the answer.

  27

  Rhys

  “Killian,” I said as I entered my office. Fucking prick lay on my office couch like he didn’t have a care in the world. His arms rested behind his head and his feet were crossed at the ankles. He was the picture of relaxation and I clenched my fists to keep myself from attacking him again. He seemed to relish it when I lost control.

  I couldn’t believe Rachel just let him into my office like this. Something was up with her lately and I didn’t know what it was. She was distracted. Things were slipping through the cracks.

  “Rhys, so nice of you to turn up. I’ve been here for hours,” he said, taking his hands from behind his head.

  “Maybe if you’d made an appointment you wouldn’t have had to wait so long. What do you want, Killian?”

  He didn’t drop by unannounced. I knew he was behind the board elections, but what I didn’t know was why.

  “I have a proposition for you that I’d like you to consider,” he said, standing from the couch and plopping down in one of the chairs in front of my desk. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned forward, a big smile on his face.

  “I’d like to talk about how we can get you out of this little board election situation.” His smug smile almost had me vaulting over the desk to wrap my hands around his neck, but I needed to get to the bottom of this.

  “And what situation would that be?”

  “Cut the shit, Rhys. I know all about the stipulations of your parents’ will. I know you’re going to get nothing if you don’t have these positions on your birthday coming up. But that’s not why I’m here. I don’t give a shit about that. I’m here for justice for Beth.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Justice for what?” I fumed. He was a man I considered a friend and it came back to bite me in the ass. Justice?

  “Oh, I think you know there’s a lot more at stake than just your bank accounts. I don’t think you want anyone to find out about what you did to Beth,” he said, rage pouring off him in waves.

  “What I did to Beth? I did nothing but try to provide the best for her. I did everything I could to keep her safe. I tried to help her.” I slammed my hand against the cold glass so hard my knuckles throbbed.

  “Helped her right into an early grave,” he said, his teeth clenched.

  “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” The muscles in my neck were so tight, I was afraid something would snap. He didn’t know anything about it. How hard I tried to keep her away from the drugs. How hard it was to live with someone who’d lie through her teeth to get her next score. Put her own daughter in danger chasing after a fix. She’d been from the same neighborhood as Killian and never felt like she fit in into my world. Maybe part of that was my fault, but I did everything I could short of chaining her to the bed.

  “And you think the boards are going to have an issue with Beth’s drug addictions? You think they are going to let go of the purse strings I have attached to every one of their bank accounts for something that I tried to fix? I’ve been playing this game for a long time. I’m disappointed in you, Killian. I would’ve thought someone like you would have had a much better plan than that. Come on,” I said, sitting in my seat, breathing a sigh of relief. That was his ace in the hole. Screw him and his threats.

  “I’m not talking about Beth’s addiction, I’m talking about her murder,” he said, his smug smirk widening with each passing second.

  “Murder. Really? And who would I murder?” I said, trying to keep my voice level.

  “Oh, I’m sure you know. Beth didn’t die in your apartment. She didn’t die like you said she did,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest. My face went pale, as the blood rushed from my head. I hadn’t realized how I’d taken the ability to breathe for granted my entire life because right now, I was in a vacuum completely cut off from everyone and everything but the pounding panic that was racing through my body.

  “Who said she didn’t die in the apartment?” I cleared my throat and tried to maintain my composure.

  “I do, I’ve seen the real police report. The one you tried to have buried. Only a guilty person has something redacted like that.”

  “Get the fuck out of my office. You don’t know anything about my life or anything about what you’re talking about.” My mind raced trying to figure out where the hell he’d gotten that report. It was supposed to be sealed, redacted or not. Had I covered up what happened to Beth? Yes, but I never would have hurt her. I did everything I could to save her. Everything to save her and protect my daughter. But I didn’t need news of what really happened to her floating around. People asking questions about Esme being there.

  Killian glared at me and it made my blood boil. I balled my hands up into fists. My knuckles turned white as I planted them on my desk to keep myself from vaulting over it and smashing his head in.

  “I thought all those years ago we promised we wouldn’t lie to one another? You know she didn’t die that way and I know she didn’t either.”

  “No one will believe your lies.”

  “They aren’t lies and you know it. And it just so happens that I know someone who was there. Someone who knows your secrets and can’t wait to bring you down,” he said, pushing up from the chair, leaning against the desk. I bared my teeth, holding myself back.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “You
r parents stole my legacy from me. It’s only fair I return the favor. Your fall from grace will be so satisfying. Maybe now everyone will know just the kind of man you are. Enough with the façade, Rhys. Let the real you out,” he said, spittle falling on the desk between us. Like an out of body experience, I threw myself across the desk. His eyes widened. He knew of my restraint, but he didn’t know just how far he’d pushed me.

  It wasn’t just me he threatened, it was the people closest to me, and I wouldn’t let anyone get away with it. Especially not him. I tackled him to the floor, my fist smashing into his face. My control snapped. My future in jeopardy. I wanted him to feel an ounce of the pain that shot through me.

  He grabbed me by the collar, ducking his head out of the way of my fist, which hit the floor. Pain exploded in my hand and radiated up my arm. He flung me off him and landed a solid punch against the side of my head. My vision swam and my ears rang as I blocked his punch and landed one solidly in his stomach. He doubled over and wheezed, putting his hand on the floor to steady himself. Blood dripped onto the floor and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his teeth bloodied. He raced at me before I could react and lifted me up, slamming me down on my glass desk. It shattered under our combined weight and we were both showered with shards of glass.

  I groaned and rolled to my side. Killian braced his hands on the floor, small rivulets of blood covering his palms, and pushed himself up.

  “I didn’t think you had it in you, Rhys. I thought all that talk about control was just the pussy’s way out of a fight, but look at you. Getting down and dirty with the peasants.”

  “You threaten my family. I’ll fucking end you,” I said, seething. My fists clenched and unclenched.