Ashes

by Aleatha Romig

  “As far as who, no one is fucking getting near you. For the what, I’m talking about the clouds that come and go in your beautiful eyes.”

  Her lips thinned into a straight line. “I love you, Patrick. I never stopped. I just put you away in a safe place. I loved you every day by loving Ruby.”

  “She’s amazing. You have done a fantastic job.”

  “My pride and joy and reason for living,” Madeline said. “She’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

  I took a step back, releasing her. “Get dressed. I’ll take the other clothes out and off the plane, and I’ll meet you at the table.”

  Madeline nodded as she stepped into the new panties.

  “Damn,” I said, “I told them to forget those.”

  Her green eyes snapped up to mine. “You did not.”

  “I never stopped loving you either,” I confessed. “I don’t know what exactly Sparrow has planned, but know I’m there for you.”

  “And him,” she said.

  “I am, Maddie. Don’t make me choose.”

  “You’d choose him?”

  “Either choice would break my heart. You already did that once.”

  She nodded, fastening the bra behind her back. “I didn’t do it willingly. I won’t now.”

  Opening the door, I stepped out, closing her in, and with her dress, panties, and shoes in my grasp, I made my way toward the front of the plane.

  Madeline

  Now fully dressed, the woman in the mirror caused me to still as I gripped the vanity.

  How often did people see themselves and not really look?

  The months I was deprived of the opportunity created an undeniable need to assess myself while at the same time, I didn’t want to see. I used to wake to a nightmare of the bathroom in the house with the cell. In my nightmare, when I first entered the bathroom with the warm shower, the mirror was present, yet I barely recognized the girl in the reflection. It was as if I possessed someone else’s body. She wasn’t me, not any longer. Her eyes were dead, devoid of emotion, her hair dirty, tangled, and matted with customers’ semen, and her skin was filthy from the cell’s cement floor.

  It was as if the inability to ever see that girl—not until after the sale at the senator’s home—cemented her within my subconscious.

  As I’d put Patrick away, so too had I that damaged girl.

  My hair and skin were now clean. My eyes were revived by the resuscitating birth of my child. To the world, I was a renowned poker player and to Ruby, I was her mom. Staring at myself, I wondered what the men around that table in the front of the plane would see once my mask of normalcy that I’d fought for so long to maintain was ripped away.

  Would they see me as I was—a commodity to be bought and sold?

  Would they consider me culpable for my life in the Ivanov bratva?

  Would they see me as Andros and Marion did—an indebted person who had traded her freedom for a life with her daughter?

  On the exterior, I appeared as I portrayed myself to be.

  With the green dress disposed of, a white sweater and black slacks were now my clothes. My dark hair shone, flowing over my shoulders and down my back, maintained with expensive shampoos and conditioners, as well as healthy nutrition. My eyes were still as green, now appearing more dramatic with eyeliner and mascara. My skin was clean and soft, courtesy of soaps and lotions. My shell—my mask—was intact.

  What would happen when it wasn’t?

  I reached for the doorknob, still thinking about Patrick and his friends.

  The hardest part was almost over, waiting for their reaction.

  Memories flooded my mind.

  The dam I’d created no longer existed, smashed to shreds by my reunion with Patrick as well as the shock of Andros and Marion’s transaction. Everything I’d buried was raw and alive within me, prickling my skin, causing the small hairs to rise upon my arms. It was as if I were back in time.

  Waiting for the door to open after being left alone by Miss Warner.

  Waiting for the auction, my eyes blindfolded and wrists bound.

  Waiting for Andros’s approval or permission.

  Waiting.

  I either wasn’t good at waiting, or I excelled. No matter my proficiency, it was the time my mind filled with endless possibilities.

  What would the kingpin of Chicago say about our recently discovered connection?

  How would Patrick react if Mr. Sparrow indeed saw me as a threat?

  My neck straightened as I inhaled, gripping the doorknob tighter. No matter what was said, I wouldn’t make Patrick choose.

  Opening the door, I stepped into the aft cabin, moving toward the front of the plane.

  “Mrs. Kelly?”

  I turned toward Millie. “Yes?”

  “It’s none of my business, but I want you to know that Mr. Kelly is a good man.”

  I felt my cheeks rise. “I agree with you.”

  “I’m not blind. I respect the choices and decisions they make. Nevertheless, he’s different than the others. He sees things the others don’t. He comments. He follows through. This job is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I owe that to him, too. I suppose ultimately the gratitude belongs to Mr. Sparrow, but my friend Jana told me it was really Mr. Kelly who secured it.”

  I peered over my shoulder toward the closed partition. Smiling back at Millie, I said, “Sometime, I’d like you to tell me more. I believe they’re expecting me, and I get the feeling these men don’t like to wait.”

  She smiled. “You’re right. I just wanted you to know that I’m happy that he has someone. He deserves the best.”

  As if she’d flipped a switch, my smile dimmed. “I’m not sure that’s me.”

  “If he thinks you are, I believe that’s what matters.”

  “Thank you. I better go.”

  “We’ll take off as soon as you’re seat-belted,” she said.

  “I’ll hurry.”

  I went closer to the partition and stilled as my heart rate increased. The swishing of my pulse muffled the voices from the other side of the door. I didn’t need to hear words; I was confident their topic of conversation was about to enter.

  “Gentlemen, your attraction has arrived.”

  Shaking away a shiver, I took a deep breath and knocked. The deep voice bidding me entrance wasn’t Patrick’s. I now recognized it as Mr. Sparrow’s.

  Sliding open the partition, I scanned the men.

  The room was quiet except for the hum of the plane’s ventilation. Their conversation ceased, whatever had been on the large screen disappeared into darkness, and their body language gave no clues. Well, Mr. Sparrow’s and Mason’s didn’t. Patrick’s blue eyes shone as he took me in, scanning me from the top of my head to the toes of the boots.

  Smiling, Patrick stood.

  “Oh,” Mason said, unbuckling his seatbelt and presumably remembering his manners.

  “No,” I said, waving Mason off. “Millie said it’s time to go.”

  “Past,” Mr. Sparrow interjected.

  I could have mentioned that it was his decision for me to change clothes. I didn’t. Instead, I walked around the table to the seat beside Patrick. “I’m sorry for the delay.”

  As soon as I was seated, the plane began to move, resuming its drive to the runway.

  Mr. Sparrow leaned back, his dark eyes fixed on me. “Patrick said you know. How long have you known?”

  He didn’t need to clarify. I knew exactly what he was talking about—our relationship.

  “I found out last night.”

  “You didn’t know before then?”

  Though Patrick had reached over and placed his hand on my knee, this conversation was only between me and Mr. Sparrow.

  I shook my head. “No. I didn’t; however, Andros did. Last night, he said that he’s known ever since…we met. Marion knew too, for the same time period.”

  “When did you meet?” Patrick asked.

  Turning toward him, I fought the sti
ng of threatening tears. “June, over sixteen years ago, before Ruby was born.”

  “And you say,” Mason asked, “that Marion Elliott also knew for all that time?”

  While simultaneously, Patrick asked, “June? You disappeared the end of February.”

  I turned my attention to Mason. “Yes, that’s what they told me last night.”

  “And you,” Mr. Sparrow said, “expect me to believe that Ivanov has known since before Ruby’s birth and never said a word.”

  “I can’t begin to tell you what to believe. What I’m telling you is the truth. I had no reason to ever doubt that the man who I knew as my father was my father.” I turned to Patrick. “I told you about my parents—who I thought were my parents—when we were young. I thought my father worked at a warehouse and my mother worked at a local store. As a young girl, I never assumed that she was someone else’s mistress.”

  A sharp inhale came from across the table. With a clenched jaw, Mr. Sparrow replied, “We’re looking into it—if they continued the relationship after you were born.”

  “My dad,” I said, “from what I can recall, never indicated our relationship wasn’t what it seemed.”

  “They died in a car crash?” Mr. Sparrow asked, looking to Patrick. “Isn’t that what you said?”

  “They did,” I answered, “when I was twelve.” I started to say more, to say that Andros said the crash wasn’t an accident but purposeful and that I was supposed to be in the car. However, the roar of the engines grew louder, interrupting my thoughts. My fingers blanched on the armrests as the plane increased speed on the runway. I didn’t release my breath until the wheels lifted from the ground and I exhaled.

  “I’m curious,” Patrick said, “how did Marion Elliott know this…and how did the two of you meet.”

  I swallowed. “I’d rather not say right now.”

  “So the tournament wasn’t your first meeting?”

  “I didn’t remember him from before but apparently not.”

  “Ms…Madeline,” Mr. Sparrow said, correcting my name. “I’m not a patient man and I don’t care what you rather answer. We have questions. I need answers. Patrick would like to take you to where we live. Your daughter is there and welcome. At this point, I’m not convinced that the invitation will be or should be extended to you. Not only do we need your honesty regarding Ivanov, but I also want to know your intentions regarding this recently discovered information.”

  Patrick’s body tensed as the grip of my knee tightened.

  “My intentions,” I began, “are the same as when I didn’t know. I have none. I don’t want a thing other than to return to my husband and daughter.”

  “My father,” he said, “—I’m not ready to say our—was a wealthy man. My mother still is a wealthy woman from a respected family. I’ve taken that wealth and multiplied it. Are we to understand that you just learned you’re related to me through my father, and you want nothing?”

  “Again, believe what you want, Mr. Sparrow. I presume you’re the only one who can make that decision. However inequitable, the answer I gave is the truth. I want nothing.” I decided to be more forthcoming. “You should know that last night I was made aware that Marion planned to use my parentage against you.”

  My gaze went to the small windows behind where Mr. Sparrow was seated. The sky beyond was bright and blue. We were above the clouds and the plane had leveled out.

  “Against me how?” Mr. Sparrow asked.

  “He didn’t say. Andros said that if Ruby had been a boy, he would have leveraged him against…Allister.” It was the first time I’d said his name aloud.

  For a moment, Mr. Sparrow didn’t speak. His jaw clenched tighter and the cords in his neck came to life. A vein in his forehead throbbed, and still, he didn’t speak.

  I looked from him to Patrick.

  “If you didn’t know, I still don’t understand how others did,” Sparrow said.

  “I filled out paperwork. I listed my parents. My mother’s name is unique, Alycia Tate. Someone saw it and the connection was made,” I explained. “I believe they recognized my mother as one of Mr. Sparrow’s mistresses. I was told there was a test to confirm. I don’t know much more.”

  “Tell me about the wedding ring,” Patrick said. “The one Mr. St. Pierre was resizing.”

  “It didn’t fit,” I replied. “Marion, I guess you could say, proposed.”

  “An application for a marriage license was filed,” Mason said.

  I exhaled, forcing my poker façade to remain intact despite the rush of uncertainty hidden beneath the surface. “Marion knew I’d say no if he actually proposed. Their plan was that I’d go with Marion after Andros abandoned me. He’d be my savior and I’d willingly marry him. It didn’t work out that way, so he tried to do it without me. If there’s a signature, it’s forged.” I turned back to Patrick. “I can’t marry him. I’m married to you. I was worried about what he’d say and do when he learned that.” I recalled our last conversation. “Just before you arrived at the store, he called and told me to leave, to go back to the ranch.”

  “Do you think he knew we were coming?” Patrick said to everyone around the table.

  “He didn’t say that,” I answered. “He said Andros lied to him.”

  “Lied?” Mason asked.

  “I don’t know anything else. Your man down there took my phone and disconnected the call. Maybe Marion found out I was already married. I never told Andros. I never told him you were Ruby’s father. Once I learned his power, I was afraid if he knew and if you were still alive, he’d do something to you.”

  “Elliott may have also learned that you’re dead,” Mr. Sparrow said.

  My circulation fell to my feet as my eyes opened wide. “What?”

  Patrick rubbed the top of my thigh. “Reid is looking into it.”

  “Into my death?”

  “Into the report of your demise,” he corrected. “After you disappeared, I heard a rumor that your body had been found. I went to the coroner’s office with our marriage license and asked to see you, to confirm your identity. I was told there was a backup on Jane Does. All I could do was file a missing person’s report. Up until Elliott’s attempt to have a marriage license issued in the name Madeline Alycia Tate with your birth information, you’ve been MIA.

  “We were talking with Reid while you were changing. He presumes that no record of your existence, no financial dealings, medical records, housing records, or anything for seven years after my report resulted in a death certificate.”

  I leaned back, shaking my head. “That’s odd to think I’ve been declared deceased.”

  “Is it?” Mr. Sparrow asked.

  His question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”

  “Is it odd, or did you know that too?”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Then why have you been calling yourself Miller?” Mr. Sparrow asked.

  “It was how I was introduced to Andros.” This was getting too close to the truth. “I had no identification. Somehow Andros provided it, in the name Madeline Miller. I didn’t ask questions.”

  Mr. Sparrow’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you be introduced as Miller?”

  “Who introduced you?” Mason asked.

  My eyes closed.

  Under my lids, I saw the room in the mansion filled with men. The scent of expensive cologne and cigar smoke came back, causing me sudden nausea as I recalled my bound wrists and the senator’s hands on my skin.

  “Would you believe she’s a virgin?”

  Laughter.

  “Ms. Miller,” Mr. Sparrow said.

  My eyes snapped open. “That’s not my name. My legal last name is Kelly.” My voice rose. “I never want to hear that other name again. Please stop saying it.” I turned to Patrick. “You can reject me. After the truth is out, I expect you to. But if I could ask one thing—if you ever did love me—please change Ruby’s name. She never deserved it.”

  “I’m not rejecting you, Madeline.
What do you mean, deserved it?”

  “She was never one of Dr. Miller’s girls.”

  “Fuck,” came like a growl from across the table.

  I looked up, seeing something different in the dark eyes staring my way.

  “I’m lost,” Patrick said.

  “You’re not,” Mason said. “You aren’t seeing what’s in front of you. In Allister’s papers, there were references to a pseudonym Miller, Dr. Miller. He was known to…” His green eyes scanned from Patrick to Mr. Sparrow, purposely avoiding me.

  Patrick sat taller, his touch disappearing from my leg. “Who introduced you to Ivanov?”

  “Introduced is the kind descriptor,” I said. “I’ll never forget his name.”

  “My father?” Mr. Sparrow asked.

  “No, sir. I never heard your father’s name before last night. I didn’t even know who he was when it was first said. The man who introduced us was…”

  Patrick

  Red filled my vision, dripping like blood over the cabin of the plane as it would over the camera’s lens in a poorly filmed horror movie.

  McFadden.

  The conversation continued, albeit muffled by my building rage.

  “What is a better word than introduction?” Mason asked.

  “Sold. There was an auction in a mansion.”

  With a flip of my wrist and pinch of my fingers, my seatbelt was unlatched, and I sprang to my feet. I was fucking trapped in a flying sardine can. All I wanted was to walk, to pace, no to kill. Fuck, I wanted McFadden’s head on a goddamned platter to place at Madeline’s feet.

  “We found some paperwork years ago,” Mason said. He was apparently the only one still capable of coherent speech.

  My eyes went to Sparrow. If I didn’t know him as well, I would be concerned that he too would explode. His neck was taut and the seams in his jacket were ready to rip from the pressure of his contained fury.

  “Under that name, he ran a clinic,” Mason went on, “that was not actually a clinic but an entry point for the trafficking and exploitation of women and minors.”

  “That would describe it. I wasn’t there long,” Madeline said.

  “How the fuck did you end up there?” I asked. “Were you kidnapped when you went to buy kitchen supplies?”