by Marie Force
“You can blame your buddy Fluff for that.”
“I’m sorry she bit you.”
“No, you’re not!”
I descend into giggles all over again. “Yes, I am! I’m genuinely sorry. I can’t believe how naughty she’s gotten as she gets older. She never used to be like this.”
“Since I owe her a tremendous debt of gratitude for leading you to me, I’ll let her continue to live here.”
“Well, that’s a relief, since you just talked me into moving here. I’d hate to have to relocate again.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“If Fluff goes, I go.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You might want to remember to shut the door, too.”
“I’ll definitely remember that.” He raises his head to look down at me, his sexy lips curved into a smile. “Had yourself a good little laugh at my expense, didn’t you?”
“I can’t wait to tell Marlowe and your sisters about this.”
“You’d better not…”
“What’s it worth to you?”
“A lot.”
“No punishment for coming without permission?”
“Hmmm, I suppose that’s a fair tradeoff, considering you could ruin my life by telling them your dog bit my ass while I was—”
I kiss the words off his lips. “Do we have a deal?”
“We have a deal,” he says begrudgingly.
Chapter 11
Long after Natalie falls asleep in my arms, I’m awake thanks to the nap on the plane that took the edge off for me. I stare into the darkness, reliving the incredibly decadent day we spent together. I’ve gone from fearing I’d lost her to bringing her fully into my life—and my kink—with astonishing results. Not only is she the perfect submissive, but she seems to love our new arrangement as much as I do.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I can relax and take comfort in knowing I’m exactly where I should be with the woman who was born to love me—and vice versa. Not to mention she’s fun and funny and loving and sweet and smart and compassionate and strong and everything I ever wanted in one delicious, sexy, adorable package.
If only this shit with the FBI wasn’t hanging over our heads, everything would truly be perfect. I can’t figure out what more they could possibly want with us. We had nothing to do with the murder of the lawyer who sold Natalie’s story to one of the Hollywood news shows. Did I want to kill him for the anguish he brought down on her? You bet I did. But that was as far as it went. Desire to see someone dead doesn’t equate to murder.
When it becomes apparent that sleep is going to remain elusive tonight, I settle Natalie on a pillow, kiss her forehead and leave her to sleep with the wildebeest snuggled up to her. I still can’t believe the little bitch bit my ass. I’ll admit to myself—and only myself—that it was sort of funny. And the “punishment” that followed led to some of the hottest sex I’ve ever had. I should be thanking the little beast for that, except that my butt still hurts where she latched on, so I won’t be thanking her quite yet.
I pull on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and go into the kitchen to make some coffee, planning to take advantage of the sleepless night to catch up on work. Hayden is after me to make a decision on the next project we’re going to take on after we complete the film he’s currently editing, which still doesn’t have a name.
I go over his list of potential names, add a few of my own and send that off to him. Then I lose myself in the screenplay Hayden has insisted I read first about a recovering drug addict who sets out to fix the damage he’s left behind. The story is engrossing and compelling, and definitely has my interest.
As I read, I realize I’m spinning my wedding ring around on my finger. It’s amazing how quickly I became accustomed to having it there and how right it feels, when only a few months ago, the thought of being married was appalling to me. That was before Natalie crashed into me and changed me forever.
Thinking about her makes me want to be near her, so I put down the script, shut off the light and return to the bedroom. I slide into bed next to her, snuggling up to her back. She doesn’t wake but turns to me, cuddling into my embrace. God, she’s sweet, and even when she’s sleeping, I can feel how much she loves and trusts me.
I have so many things I want to do and explore with her. I can’t wait for all of it. Soon, I’ll take her to the club, where she’ll get her first exposure to the public aspect of my chosen lifestyle. I hope someday we’ll get to the point where scenes at the club are a routine part of our life together. But if we never get there, I’ll be perfectly satisfied—and content—with what we already have.
We spend a lazy and relaxing weekend at home. Natalie’s foundation notepad is never far from her side, and she adds to it regularly as we brainstorm ideas for programs. She wants to bring in the national teachers’ union as a partner in helping us to reach the children most in need, which I think is a fantastic idea. Who would know better than the teachers who work on the front lines with the kids each day?
I love her passion for my passion project, and I’m thrilled to have her involved.
All weekend, I try to forget about the looming appointment with the FBI agent. That he wants to talk to Natalie, too, fills me with anxiety that has me tossing and turning on Sunday night.
At some point, I fall asleep only to be awakened by the alarm on Natalie’s phone. It’s way too early to be awake after being up most of the night stewing, but remembering why she had set the alarm so early puts me immediately on alert. The goal today is to end this bullshit with the FBI once and for all.
“Did you sleep?” Natalie asks.
“Some.”
Fluff stands and stretches, spots me on the other side of Natalie and shows me her ten stumpy teeth. She gets a lot done with those remaining teeth.
“Stop it, Fluff. This is Daddy’s bed. He can sleep here, too.”
“When did I become her daddy anyway?”
“When you married her mommy.” She says this as if it makes perfect sense, which is utterly adorable.
“I never signed on for that, and P.S., this is our bed, not mine. Ours.” I yawn deeply, remembering the multiple events that lie ahead.
It’s going to be a long day and nowhere near as much fun as the weekend was. I’m thrilled to finally receive an Oscar nod for acting, but I’d much rather spend today alone with my new wife than schmoozing at yet another Hollywood event. “I need a shower to wake up. Want to join me?”
“Only if you’ll sign a no-sex waiver. I’m on hiatus.”
“Says who?”
“Says my bruised and battered body. And judging from the bloated crampy feeling I woke up with, I’m due to get my period today, so we’re out of commission for a while.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Yes, we are.”
“Have you forgotten that you signed over control of your sexual satisfaction to me, which means you don’t get to say when?”
“I get to say not then.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No. You don’t.”
“Where’s Fluff when I need her?”
“The dog or the safe word?”
“The dog. I want her to bite your ass again.”
Emmett arrives about twenty minutes before our eight o’clock meeting with Vickers. Natalie and I are fresh out of the shower, where she was true to her word—no sex. That’s okay. I’ll let her make it up to me later. She hasn’t yet dried her hair, and she looks fresh-faced and young as we meet with my attorney and close friend.
“What happened to Rogers anyway?” I ask him over coffee.
“You don’t already know?” Emmett asks, surprised. As always, he’s decked out in one of the custom bespoke suits he has made on twice-a-year trips to London’s Savile Row.
“I suffer from a staggering lack of curiosity where he’s concerned.”
“He was stabbed in his office. No sign of
forced entry, and whoever killed him made him suffer first. His left ear was cut off, his right pinky finger—”
When I see Natalie go pale, I hold up a hand to stop Emmett.
“Sorry. I figured you guys had read about it by now.”
“We can’t possibly be the only ones with motive,” Natalie says.
“You aren’t. The stories coming out of Lincoln tell a tale of a life gone totally off the rails. He was big into gambling and owed money all over the place.”
“So we basically handed him the golden egg when Natalie appeared with me at the Globes.”
“That’s my speculation. And I believe it’s possible that someone knew he’d come into the money and was looking for their share when he was killed. Our guy is working that angle right now—who did Rogers owe that would be interested in his big payday?”
I glance at Natalie. “You see why we love Emmett so much?”
“I can definitely see.”
Emmett smiles at her. “Just doing my job and protecting my friends. This whole thing is bullshit.”
The doorbell rings, and I go to admit Vickers. He takes a long look around at my house, which makes me wish I’d had this meeting at the office instead. This’ll give him a story to tell in his retirement, the time he suspected the movie star of murder. If only he could’ve proved it, the case would’ve made his career.
As I have that thought, I begin to understand Vickers’s motivation. Pinning Rogers’s murder on me—or Natalie—would make him a star. Yeah, that’s gonna happen over my dead body.
I bring him into the kitchen, offer him a chair and a cup of coffee, which he declines.
“Nice place you got here.”
“I like it.” When I sit next to Natalie, she takes hold of my hand under the table. And just that simply, I feel calmer, more prepared to keep my cool no matter what buttons Vickers decides to push. “This is my wife, Natalie.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
She smiles and nods but doesn’t return the sentiment. That’s my girl.
“And my attorney, Emmett Burke.”
“What can we do for you?” Emmett asks.
“Do I have your permission to record this conversation?”
Emmett nods. “Go ahead. We have nothing to hide.”
Vickers places a handheld recorder on the table and lists the parties present as well as the date and location. “As you know, we’re looking into the murder of David Rogers. Mrs. Godfrey, could you please tell me about your association with him?”
She looks at me for reassurance. I wish I could spare her from having to talk about things she’d rather forget.
“I met him during Oren Stone’s trial. He was acquainted with the detective who took me in after my parents… I was estranged from my family and…” She takes a deep breath. “David offered to help me establish a new identity.”
“Was that his idea or yours?”
“It was his suggestion, but I was very anxious to leave the past behind. He didn’t have to talk me into it.”
“How exactly did he go about establishing your new identity?”
“I’m not sure of the exact steps he took. I was seventeen and looking for a fresh start after two nightmarish years. When he produced a new birth certificate, passport, Social Security card, a credit card, bank accounts, I didn’t ask questions.”
“Do you know if he actually changed your name or if he created a new identity?”
“He created a new identity because I didn’t want some clerk in an office to be able to tie the two names to each other. That was very important to me.”
“How much did you pay him for these items?”
“Five thousand dollars.”
“And where did you get the money?”
“After Stone was charged with attacking me, some of his rivals and enemies came together to raise funds to support me during the trial. I used the money to pay for living expenses and tutors so I could finish high school from home. I paid for clothes and other expenses. I used part of it to pay David, and the rest went toward half of my college tuition.”
“How did you pay for the other half?”
I reach my limit with that question. “What does that have to do with anything?” It’s pure torture watching Natalie talk about this shit again. The experiences of her teenage years might always be part of her, but she shouldn’t be forced to constantly relive it. I can’t bear it.
“We’re looking into Mr. Rogers’s business dealings.”
“All of them or just the ones that involve my wife?”
“All of them.”
She squeezes my hand. “I paid for the rest of college with loans and by working two jobs.”
“A run of your credit shows that your loans were recently paid off in full. Can you explain how that transpired?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I paid off her loans.”
“I was asking Mrs. Godfrey.”
“What he said. How do you think I suddenly paid off thousands of dollars in loans when I recently lost my job?”
I bite my lip to hold back a smile.
“When was the last time you saw or spoke to Mr. Rogers?”
“More than six years. I never saw him again after he delivered the documents to the home where I was living.”
“Talk to him?”
“No. I had no need to. I hired him to do a job for me. He did it. I paid him. End of story. Until…”
“Until?”
“Until I appeared at the Golden Globes with Flynn, and David sold me out to the media.”
“And how do you know it was him?”
“He was the only one who knew me by both names.”
“You never told anyone else what your new name is? Not even the family you lived with?”
“No. I told no one. I’m still April to the family I lived with and the few other people who remained in my life after the attack.”
“In all the years after you changed your name, you never told anyone about your former name, your former life in Lincoln?”
“The point of changing my name was that I didn’t want anyone to know who I used to be. I never told anyone. I hadn’t even told Flynn the full story before it hit the news. He learned my birth name from reporters.”
“Where did you live while you were in college?”
Again she looks at me, as if to ask what the meaning of this is. I’m wondering the same thing.
“The first year, I lived in a dorm and then in an apartment the other three years.”
“Roommates?”
“A few. Here and there.”
“I assume you made some friends there, in classes, jobs, activities? Boyfriends?”
“What’re you getting at, Agent Vickers?” Emmett asks, saving me the trouble.
“Yes, I had some friends. People I did things with. But I didn’t date, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’m just having a little trouble believing that in all that time, with all those people you came into contact with, lived with, did things with, you never told anyone about Stone or the trial or anything about your life before college. I have a daughter. She talks about everything.”
Her eyes flash with anger. “Was your daughter attacked and repeatedly raped by a man she trusted when she was fifteen? Did your best friend lure her to his home, hold her down, take her virginity, her innocence, and ruin her life? Did your daughter’s parents disown her when she refused to back down from bringing charges against your best friend and boss? If not, then you certainly have no place to judge me or the choices I made after I was attacked.”
I want to stand up and cheer. I’ve never been more proud of her or more impressed by her than I am in that moment.
“You went to college in the same state in which you helped to send the governor to jail. No one recognized you?”
“I’d changed my appearance by then. I’d changed my hair color from reddish brown to the current color, and until this week, I wore brown contacts that changed
my eye color. I was also older by then, and I had matured in the years since the attack and trial. No one ever so much as suggested that I might be April Genovese. They were college kids. What did they care about the girl who brought down the governor? Most of them probably didn’t even know it had happened.”
“When you heard the media was reporting that Flynn Godfrey’s new girlfriend was the same girl who brought down the governor of Nebraska, what did you think?”
“I knew right away that David had cashed in on what he knew about me. It had to be him, because no one else knew.”
“Since the story went public, have you spoken to anyone you knew before in Lincoln?”
“Only my sisters, who I hadn’t spoken to since before the attack.”
“You didn’t speak to Rogers?”
“Why would I? Flynn’s lawyers were handling the situation with him. I had bigger concerns, including the loss of my job and livelihood. I had no desire to speak to the man who’d given me a new identity and then stolen it from me when it served his purposes.”
Both men look at my wife with admiration while my heart swells with love and respect. She’s magnificent.
“Have we answered all your questions?” I want him gone so I can be alone with her.
“For now. We’d like you to remain available while the investigation continues.”
“We’re going to London for about forty-eight hours this weekend for the British Academy Film Awards,” I say, “but we’ll be back in LA early next week.”
“We’d like to know what else is being done to find Rogers’s killer,” Emmett said. “Surely you have persons of interest by now other than my clients?”
“We’re investigating a number of promising leads. The information you provided today is very helpful.”
“It’s safe to assume, then, that my clients are not suspects?”
“Not yet. This is an ongoing investigation, and we reserve the right to question your clients again.”
“I’ll show you out,” Emmett says, tuning in to my need to have the agent gone.
The moment we’re alone in the kitchen, I reach for her. “You were fucking magnificent.” I realize she’s trembling, which infuriates me. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that again. I hope that’s the last time you ever have to talk about it.”
