Richer Than Sin

by March, Meghan

  His gaze said he was sincere, but in this, I wasn’t ready to trust his confidence.

  “You can’t promise that. We both know this isn’t going to end well. It can’t.”

  His expression darkened. “We decide how this ends. Only us. And unless you tell me right now that I mean nothing to you, I’m not letting you go.”

  I opened my mouth to say the words that would set me free from this craziness and save me from self-destruction, but nothing came out. The thought of never seeing him again made me sick to my stomach.

  “You can’t say it. I know you can’t, even if you want to be able to. I see you, Whitney. I see you so fucking clearly that I never want to look at anyone else ever again. Do you get what I’m saying?”

  I dropped my forehead to press against his bare chest and breathed in the pine-and-citrus scent of his skin. “I’m scared.”

  His arms wrapped around me, and he pressed me tightly enough against his strong body that I actually thought he could protect me from the world.

  “You don’t need to be scared, Blue. You have me.”

  18

  Whitney

  Present day

  I haven’t felt this relaxed in months. After a massage and a facial that made me feel like a new woman, I’m led to the makeup station to cover this awesome bruise on my face.

  When I walk inside, I’m shocked to see someone I recognize. “Gabi?”

  “Whitney? Jesus, it’s been like a million years.” She rushes forward to give me a hug.

  I’ve gotten more hugs in the last couple of days than I have in the past decade, and something about it makes me feel really, really good. I didn’t know how much I missed being around people who knew me as someone other than Ricky Rango’s wife.

  “More like a million and one. I didn’t know you moved back.”

  Gabi was one of my closest friends in high school, but we lost touch when she went away to college and I stayed in Gable, waiting for Ricky to hit it big in LA.

  “About two years ago. I got divorced and didn’t want to raise my kids anywhere near that asshole, so here I am. Thirty-two and living with mom and dad. Winning at life, you know?”

  I smile. “I’m moving back in with my aunt. I think we’re both killing it.”

  Her smile fades when she flips on the bright light of the makeup station and sees the bruise on my face. “Speaking of killing, who needs to die for doing that?”

  Warmth bursts inside me. It’s also been a long time since I’ve had people in my life who would help me bury a body without question.

  “It’s a long, boring story that I’m working hard to move on from. Right now, I’d rather cover it up and pretend it never happened.”

  “I feel you, girl. My ex hit me once. That was the last straw. I got full custody because of all those pictures I took. It was worth it to never let him see my babies again without supervision.”

  I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

  “That’s life. We get the shit and the good. It’s up to us how long we take the shit. I thought I heard you were going to get divorced before . . . before your husband died.” Her statement carries the hint of a question, and I nod.

  I know the story will follow me everywhere I go for the rest of my life, so I may as well get used to hearing it. “You probably heard that I killed him too.”

  Gabi’s gaze dips before meeting mine again. “I did, but I didn’t believe it.”

  “That makes you one of very few. I wasn’t even there when it happened. But his fans will never believe it. They want me to be the villain in this story.”

  “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You’d think being married to a rock star would be great . . .” She glances at my eye again. “But obviously everything has its drawbacks.”

  I nod. “The press and the fans are still crazy, but I’m hoping they won’t track me back here. At least, for a little while.”

  “No one will hear you’re home from me. Cross my heart.” She draws an X over her heart like we used to do when we were younger.

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Enough of that and on to business.” Gabi lifts my chin with two fingers and surveys my face. “Let’s get this covered up and make you so damn hot that Lincoln Riscoff won’t know what the hell happened to him when he sees you.”

  I freeze at the mention of his name. “You know about . . . that?”

  “I don’t think there’s a single person in this town who doesn’t know about him objecting at your wedding. It’s the stuff of legend.” She pauses to take a breath. “I’m sure everyone would love to see you snake him away from that bitch who thinks she’s got her claws into him now. We can tell she’s nothing but a gold digger, but for some reason, Mrs. Riscoff seems to approve. I was definitely betting on her keeling over if Lincoln thought about getting engaged to another woman who didn’t meet her standards.”

  Another woman?

  “He was engaged before?” I have no idea why my brain latches onto that piece of information, but clearly, it’s demented.

  Also, how did I not know Lincoln was engaged? Oh, wait, because I’ve been pretending Lincoln Riscoff and the entire town of Gable didn’t exist for ten years while being wrapped up trying to make sure Ricky’s career continued to skyrocket.

  “Almost, but then she got caught in bed with his brother, so she didn’t get a ring.”

  “What?” My exclamation bounces around the room.

  “It was scandalous. Mrs. Riscoff ended up in the hospital from chest pains, but that old bat is never gonna die, if you ask me. She’s determined to see the next Riscoff heir being born before she leaves this earth.”

  I have nothing I can say to that statement, because holy shit, I did miss a hell of a lot. I swallow my shock.

  “Here, scoot forward on the chair. I’ll tell you the story while I work.”

  Part of me wants to say I don’t care, but who am I kidding? Of course I want to hear this. It’s pretty much impossible not to want to know everything that happened in my absence involving Lincoln.

  As Gabi smooths primer onto my face, I ask, “And the gold digger this time is Maren something?” I ask like I didn’t commit the name of the woman Cricket almost ran off the road to memory.

  “Maren Higgins. She’s a piece of work too. Already thinks she’s lady of the manor, although she’s not, because Lincoln doesn’t live at the Riscoff estate and hasn’t in ages. Thankfully, Ms. Riscoff told her she can’t come in here and order us around unless she pays full price, so she’s not around too often. She’s from the city. Her family sounds fancy, but the kind of fancy that needs a cash infusion. Lord knows when she lost her chance at Hunter Havalin, she moved right up the food chain because the Riscoffs have plenty of cash. I’m not sure why she didn’t go after him first, but craftier women than her have set their sights on Lincoln Riscoff and failed. Although, I still have no idea why he wanted to marry Monica. I don’t think anyone understands that.”

  Gabi is laying out so much information right now that I’m struggling to absorb it all . . . while stomping out tiny flames of jealousy I’m pretending don’t exist.

  He’s not mine. He never will be. I don’t care. This is just entertaining gossip. That’s all.

  I’m full of shit.

  “So Monica is the ex who slept with Harrison. How long ago was that?” I ask like I’m making idle conversation, but I’m wildly curious.

  “I missed out on the Monica era, but from what I’ve been told, it was only a few years after you left town. By the way . . . she had black hair, blue eyes, and a body straight out of Victoria’s Secret.”

  I freeze as Gabi goes to work on my brows.

  Black hair and blue eyes? No coincidence there at all . . .

  “And Maren?” I try to change the subject immediately. “What does she look like?”

  “The kind of woman you love to hate. Blond. Tiny waist. Great boobs. Legs that go on for days. Perma-tan. G
orgeous and she knows it.”

  “Sounds . . . lovely.” I place sarcastic emphasis on lovely.

  “Oh, Whit. God, you should see her. It’s like she’s Regina George out of Mean Girls. She has this attitude that only comes out when she’s nowhere near Lincoln. The one time I did her makeup, I thought about dumping something in the foundation to give her an allergic reaction, because she was so awful. If I wouldn’t have gotten fired, I would have done it in a heartbeat.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Yeah, he sure can pick some winners. At least he’s kept it from getting too serious. It’s more off-again these days than anything. If you ask me, he’s just using her as a booty call. Poor woman thinks that’s how to nab the Riscoff heir. She’s crazy, if you ask me. He won’t buy what he can get for free, and that man can get everything for free.”

  Her words stab into me.

  He got it for free from me too . . . and he still wanted more.

  “Do you want me to go natural on your eyes or sultry?” Gabi asks, holding an eyeshadow palette aloft as another spa employee comes in with a woman wrapped in a robe and sandals on her feet. They set up at the station on the opposite side of the room.

  “Natural is fine. I don’t need glam treatment. It’s not like I’m getting fixed up to go anywhere.”

  “No, but you never know who you’re gonna see . . .”

  We both know exactly who she’s talking about, and I don’t even want to contemplate what’s going to happen the next time I see Lincoln. Even having glass between us and me pretending he wasn’t there was more than I could handle.

  I wish seeing him once had proven that I don’t care anymore, but all it proved was that I’ve been lying to myself for years. My body roared to life like I’ve been sleepwalking for the last ten years.

  I shove all that aside and focus on the task at hand. “As long as you cover up my fabulous black eye, I’ll be fine.”

  Gabi’s bubbly attitude fades in the face of the harsh reality of why I’m here. “You going to tell me where you buried him? The guy who hit you?”

  “I pressed charges. I’m hoping I never have to see him again.”

  “Good girl. Someday, you and I are going to go out, have some drinks, and catch up. Sounds like we both need it.” She pauses for a moment. “And just so you know, no one in this town had any great love for Ricky. I guarantee they aren’t blaming you for what happened.”

  It takes everything I have to keep my smile pasted on my face and not let the tears gathering spill.

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  “Of course, Whit. You’re among friends now.”

  She hands me a tissue, and I carefully dab at my eyes.

  “It’s been a while since I could talk to anyone who didn’t have an ulterior motive. I thought I’d made some good friends in LA, but then I was shocked to find the things I’d told them show up in gossip magazines.”

  Gabi’s brush hand stills. “Those whores. I hope they get crotch rot.”

  My lips quirk into a rueful smile. “Right? Up until then, no one knew he’d ever been to rehab . . . but they sure spilled that fast.”

  “You stuck by him through rehab too? God, I didn’t know that.”

  “We managed to keep it out of the press because I covered for him. As far as they know, it was our second honeymoon retreat in Fiji.”

  “I read about that! So you didn’t even go to Fiji?”

  “No. I stayed in the house for six weeks without leaving because I couldn’t be spotted without screwing up our story.”

  “It sounds like you made some serious sacrifices for that man.”

  I shrugged. “Isn’t that what marriage is about? Sacrifices?”

  “I’m done with all that shit,” Gabi says. “Now, it’s all about me and my babies.”

  “Amen.”

  “You know, except for the necessary bump and grind here and there, I try to keep it real quiet.” She pauses. “You know any Hollywood types who need a fling on the side? I’m all about the long-distance relationships.” When I laugh, she smiles. “Never mind. I couldn’t handle their drama.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want a damn thing to do with that. They’re all fake as hell.”

  She holds the palette up. “Speaking of fake as hell, let’s make you so naturally beautiful that Lincoln will forget all about Maren the second he sees your gorgeous face.”

  “What is she doing here?”

  A voice I wish I could forget cuts through the room, and I look up to see Mrs. Riscoff standing in the doorway.

  19

  Lincoln

  The past

  “Who was she?” My mother slammed the door behind her as she stormed into my father’s office in the middle of our meeting.

  “Excuse me?” my father said.

  “That whore he saw you with!”

  I go still. That piece-of-shit groundskeeper . . .

  “Who the hell are you talking about?” my father asked.

  Instead of my mother telling my father what I’d done, she walked by me on the way to slap her hands on his desk.

  “My brother said he saw you with a woman last night. Leaving the resort out the back way.”

  A rush of relief hit me when I realized it wasn’t me she was accusing. Even though I’d told Whitney I would handle everything and nothing would touch her, the idea of my mother finding out wasn’t something that brought out any warm, fuzzy feelings.

  “Then your brother should’ve realized I was taking an employee home. She had a sick kid and needed a ride.”

  “At ten o’clock at night? Like I believe that! I checked already, and you had a room blocked off last night.”

  “I always have a room blocked off. It’s so I can work all the damn time and make the company more money. You like money, don’t you, Sylvia? That’s why you married me, after all.”

  “You hardly ever come home at night anymore!”

  “Why would I when all you do is accuse me of cheating on you all the time?”

  I stood and backed up toward the door. The last thing I wanted to do was stand around and listen to my parents argue. They didn’t love each other. Never had. I still found it shocking they managed to have three children, because they’d lived in separate wings of the house for as long as I could remember.

  I slipped out the door and shut it behind me, muffling their voices a little.

  Commodore stepped out of his office, no doubt drawn by the shouting. He glanced at the door and then back at me. “Running away?”

  I met his gaze. “Do you want to go in there?”

  “Your father is a grown man. He shouldn’t have to explain himself to her. But you should learn something from this, boy. Never marry a woman you don’t trust or who doesn’t trust you. Everything will go to shit faster than you can say I do.”

  The first woman who popped into my head was Whitney. She didn’t trust me.

  No, that wasn’t true. She didn’t want to trust me, but I was wearing her down. I could trust her . . . at least, I thought I could. I needed to get her to the point where her family loyalty paled in comparison to what she felt for me. That was the only way it would ever work between us.

  Which meant I had a long way to go.

  Commodore, the canny old man, noticed my silence and narrowed his gaze on me. “You have someone in mind already?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet, sir.”

  I hated the lie, but it wasn’t time to tell him yet. Although, if it were up to Whitney, it never would be.

  One step at a time. That was how I had to work this.

  My mother slammed my father’s office door and stopped in front of Commodore. “If your son doesn’t learn how to keep his hands to himself, your family is going to have its first ever divorce.”

  Commodore stood even taller as his gaze hardened. “You’ll never walk away from a penny of this voluntarily. But I would write you a check if you do. For a dollar.”

  My mother inhaled sharply
at Commodore’s insult. It was harsh enough that it even shocked me.

  “Sir—”

  He held up a hand to silence me. “You have anything else to add to the conversation, Sylvia?”

  My mother glared and stalked away.

  Commodore turned back to me when she disappeared into the elevator. “Sometimes you have to take a hard line with the ones who would walk all over you. I know she’s your mother, but I don’t like that woman.”

  My father’s office door opened and he stepped out. With his hands shoved in his pockets, he asked, “Anyone else need a drink?”

  20

  Whitney

  Present day

  “What are you doing here?” Sylvia Riscoff’s question rings with disbelief and disgust.

  “Mrs. Riscoff—” Gabi says, but Lincoln’s mother whips out her hand to silence her.

  “I want an explanation for your presence, and I want it now.” Hatred drips from Mrs. Riscoff’s every word. It’s surprising acid doesn’t leak from the corners of her mouth to accompany it.

  She despises me. If looks could kill, I’d be dead.

  “I’m getting my makeup done.” I say it matter-of-factly. “It’s an excellent facility.”

  Her nostrils flare in anger. “A facility you’ll never set foot in again. Get out. Your money’s no good here.”

  “Actually, she’s here on employee credit, ma’am,” Gabi says, not realizing she just threw my aunt into the crosshairs.

  “Which employee?”

  I swallow. “My aunt.”

  “I’ll have her job for this. You’re trash, all of you Gables. Always have been, always will be. I don’t care how much money you have now; it doesn’t change who you are.”

  I blink twice at her. She thinks I still have money? I’m not going to correct her, though. It’s a mistake that’s no doubt in my favor.