Mended-Hearts

by Gordon, M. E.

  The old Beth would have called Gia, crying and upset, but this was the new and improved Beth. The Beth who had had her world rocked, flipped, and shaken to the point of maximum destruction. I’d dated two men, dealt with my best friend hooking up with both of my brothers, and battled the media, all at the same time, and I came out fine on the other side.

  That address could have had something to do with his past, maybe it was his way of including me. Hell, maybe he was moving and going to surprise me. The fact of the matter was, I didn’t know. Like always, I didn’t know anything.

  The only way to find out was to show up at seven-thirty and see what happened.

  Chapter 20

  Nickolas

  I reached into my pocket after the door slammed closed behind Salvatore and dialed a number I’d sworn I’d never call.

  I cracked my neck as I waited for the line to pick up. “Well, well, I’ve missed you, Nickolas,” Natasha said from the other end of the phone.

  “Well, unfortunately, for you, I haven’t.”

  “Don’t be mean. You must be in a pickle if you’re calling me on this number, which I didn’t know you had. Seems you’re sneakier than I once imagined.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

  “Well, I’m sitting in my Jacuzzi bathtub, with the most spectacular glass of wine I’ve ever had. I have an array of scented candles going--Oh, and I have some calming music on in the background, but I’m sure that’s not what you were getting at. Am I wrong?”

  “You broke him. You realize you broke a man, right?” I said, pacing the gallery.

  “I haven’t even started.”

  I could head the sloshing of water on the other end of the phone as she adjusted herself. Her chipper, smart ass voice turned into the deceptive, cruel one I knew all too well.

  “You need to stop this.”

  “The hell I do! You have no idea the amount of sinister, heart-wrenching, evil that that man has inflicted on other people. I will not stop until he’s paid for everything he’s done. I will not stop until he reaches the same fate as the ones he’s destroyed.”

  “Natasha, listen to yourself. You’re taking this too far. I’m all about getting revenge but he’s going off the deep end. He came to me tonight, asking if I’d take Elizabeth back. He’s letting her go.” I was shouting by the end, I needed her to hear the seriousness in all this.

  “So what the hell are you complaining about? My plan’s working. He’s losing everything he’s ever had. You’re getting the girl. I don’t understand the problem here.”

  “What the hell did he do, Natasha? He told me he was sending Elizabeth to me. He’s scared shitless, and you told me once that he murdered someone. Is that true? Is that the dirt you have on him? Or have you been bluffing all along?”

  “Keep your nose out of my business, Nickolas. You’re getting your girl, your precious Belle, back, aren’t you? Stay out of it.”

  Click.

  I squeezed my phone so tightly I thought I was going to crack the screen. I wanted to toss it across the room and punch something, I was so mad. I had no way of contacting Spencer and, at this point, I figured Elizabeth wouldn’t give me the time of day, even if I tried to call her. I was stuck. I didn’t have a clue to go on or direction to head in. All I knew was the bullshit Natasha kept threatening with. I didn’t know if it had any merit, but after everything I had experience tonight, parts of her threats had to be true. Why else would Spencer give up?

  Even though I wanted to figure it all out, I had a gallery opening in less than twelve hours and, for once, I had to put everything else aside--the drama, the questions, everything--and focus on myself.

  Chapter 21

  Elizabeth

  I wasn’t a total fool. I called Spencer on every single number that I had. He never answered, though. I called his office, all four of them, even the international one. Go figure. All four of them told me the exact same thing.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Monroe, he’s unavailable at the moment, and we’re not sure when he’s going to be able to get back to you. We’ll give him the message.”

  They were like robots on the other end. Knowing Spencer, he probably gave them a huge incentive to lie for him. He didn’t seem to have a problem getting other people to do his bidding.

  After calling every number I had, I sat on the bed and contemplated who to call next. Gia? No way. Chuck? Like he cares that Spencer is MIA. Teddy? No, he’d blow up and most likely fly home from LA. I didn’t want to do that to him.

  I was basically stuck in Spencer’s condo. The only thing that I had going for me was the address in the envelope. It was all I had to go on, and I was praying it was going to lead me to him and not on some wild goose chase.

  After spending the morning on the phone getting robotic answers, I spent the rest of the day vegging out on the couch and sulking. That is until the doorbell rang. I dropped the bag of sour cream and onion potato chips and immediately panicked. Oh, shit, what if it’s him? Of course, it’s not him. It’s still his house, he’d walk in. What if it’s security really kicking me out? Oh, God, what if it’s the media? I sniffed my breath, Whoa, not good. I ran fast to my black hole of a bag grabbed a piece of gum, and shoved it in my mouth.

  The rap on the door got louder. I chewed as fast as I could to help with the onion breath. I opened the door just as the person was going to knock again. It was one of the managers of the building.

  “Ms. Monroe, I was asked to give this to you,” the manager said.

  “Who--”

  “Mr. Salvatore asked me to bring it up to you at six tonight, I’m just doing as he asked.”

  The man held a box in his hand. It was wrapped with a red ribbon and had a perfect bow on top of it. My heart fluttered in my chest at the chance that this was all a scheme to impress me, woo me, or even apologize to me. I thought he did enough apologizing last night, but I’d take a fancy box and mystery note to a special location any day.

  I took the box from him, thanked him, then closed the door. I kicked the bag of chips on the floor and sat down on the couch. Placing the box where the chips had been, I got all giddy. I ripped into the box, expecting to see a note--because this was Spencer, after all. I was shocked to see nothing but tissue paper.

  I tore through it like a kid at Christmas. Tissue paper went flying in every direction until I hit fabric--red, soft, expensive fabric. I reached in with both hands and held up the red Ann Robin dress I wore the first night I met Spencer. It was exactly the same as I remembered it. I studied it a little more closely. No, this can’t be? How could he? There on the bottom of the dress was a small stain, the same stain that I had on the original dress. I had spilled some red wine on it back when I was getting ready to go out with Gia and my brothers the night we went to Blue. That night suddenly felt like forever ago now.

  It was also the night Spencer ripped the dress off my body. He’d fixed it for me. I hugged the dress and then swiftly panicked again. I was supposed to meet Spencer in this dress in less than forty-five minutes, and there wasn’t a stylist team in sight to get me ready this time. I was on my own, and I was petrified.

  So I did the unspeakable, I called Gia.

  “I’m only doing this because...I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I don’t trust him, Beth,” Gia said as she tugged a comb through my hair.

  I was playing a game on her phone when she went in for another big tug, which made my head jerk to one side. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be fine. He’s just making things adventurous, and watch it with that comb. I’m not going to have any hair left if you keep that up.” I watched Gia roll her eyes in the mirror as she continued combing my hair with a little more force than necessary. “So how’s Charles?” I asked, taking her totally off guard.

  “What? Why--why would I know how he is?” she stammered, trying to play it off.

  “Well, first off, you smell like him--”

  “I do not!”

  “Second, you got
here way too fast if you were coming from your place.”

  “There was no traffic. And would you believe I hit every green light.”

  “Hump--well, he’s calling you--you sure you don’t know how he is?” I said, holding her phone up over my head so she could see the caller ID.

  “Damn him, I told him to--shit. Okay--fine I’ve been hanging out with him.”

  Who was she trying to kid?

  I snickered up at her. “It’s fine. I’m not going to get into fate’s way. I’ll keep my opinions to myself.”

  “Turn around and let me finish your hair. I can take a hint,” she said, shooing me to turn back around on the chair.

  I hadn’t meant to--ah hell, I guess I did. If I could keep my mouth shut and support her--I expected her to do the same for me.

  “So do you know anything about this place?” I asked, holding the note that was left on top of my mended dress.

  “No. I do know that the building is refurbished and there’s a lot of up and coming buzz around that area. I think there are some designers renting space in the building, and I also heard that the pent houses are huge, like movie star huge.”

  That was all I needed to hear. The sheer thought that maybe he had bought us our own place and was surprising me tonight put my mind at ease. I mean, come one, what else could it possibly be?

  ***

  The driver pulled up to the building and placed the car in park. “This is it,” he said, glancing at me from the rear view mirror.

  “All right then.”

  I waited and stared out the window at the huge building. I noticed that, inside, there seemed to be a party going on in one of the main floor rooms. Wedding? I sat back in my seat a moment.

  The driver cleared his throat and raised his brows at me. I smiled up at the rear view mirror. The older man smiled back as he waited for me to get my ass out of the car.

  “I guess I should get out,” I said, not only to him but to myself.

  I had to talk myself up again. It was like I was back at the first night I wore this dress, only I knew Spencer was waiting for me somewhere inside this gorgeous building and Nick--Nick was out of my life, and the chances of me seeing him again were slim to none.

  “Well, miss, you don’t have to, but if I were you I’d get in there and find whoever you’re looking for.”

  With that, I clutched my small bag and exited the car. I walked up the front stairs and into the building. I expected to see a large lobby. Instead, it was a huge white room with tons of people milling about.

  People in crisp white shirts and slick black pants walked around with trays of champagne and hors d’oevures. I stood at the entrance of the large room and, as I scanned the faces, I realized that this wasn’t a wedding nor was it a lobby with a concierge waiting to help me. It was my worst nightmare.

  The first flash of light came from my left, the second from my right, and so on, all around me cameras went off. Not only was it large paparazzi cameras, but cell phones and tablets soon followed suit. All around me were huge canvas photos of what I knew without a doubt were the curve of my back, the soft bend of my leg, the length of my neck. If those images held any doubt it was me, the one with a strap of a bra laying next to a dark freckle that I knew was on the edge of my collar bone told me it was definitely me or my doppelganger. As I spun around, taking in all the pictures, the last picture I saw was of the delicate diamond necklace in the shape of an S staring straight back at me. I’d walked into the bear’s den, and Spencer Salvatore was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter 22

  Nickolas

  The night was going great. I had a huge turnout. People from the art society, magazines, I even talked to a woman from the New York Times. I’d been promoting to all the right people for the last three months, and I pulled every single string I could to get that room filled with every important person available. I’d recently been told that four pieces had sold for a combination of over a million dollars. I was walking on air, living the life I always dreamed of. Everything was going great. That was, until I heard the commotion coming from of the front of the gallery.

  Honestly, I hadn’t thought about what happened the night before. I had a feeling Spencer Salvatore was full of shit and Natasha was so off-her-rocker crazy, I didn’t want to feed into her threats anymore. The simple fact was--there was no way that Spencer Salvatore would leave Elizabeth Monroe.

  I was talking with a well-known art gallery manager when I noticed the flashes of light and crowd forming toward the front of the gallery.

  “So, as you know the market is wide open, and I know that we have room to--”

  “I’m sorry,” I interrupted, clutching his shoulder. “I--I have to check on something.”

  I left him standing there and walked to where the crowd of people were huddling. With every step I took, I felt my heart drop a little farther into my gut. There were rows of people and, as I pushed my way through, it was obvious the crowd was getting rougher and the flashes were going off more frequently. I hadn’t invited these types of people. There was no reason for it. I wanted a small opening with people that cared about art and photography.

  I’d been in crowds like that in my previous profession, and I knew that grown-ass men and women only acted like this when there was money to be made off a picture. I pushed my way between them and, as I broke through, I found myself standing face to face with a ghost of a woman I once knew. These people had been brought here, given a tip. They must have been waiting in the wings unseen by myself or the other prestigious people I had invited.

  She looked up at me with as much confusion on her face as I’m sure I had on mine. Her golden brown eyes shimmered as tears began to well up in them. She looked panicked, taken off guard. She clearly wasn’t expecting this, or me. The noise around us quieted as we stared at one another.

  I was gazing at my Belle, the woman I ruined, the woman I let slip through my fingers. I didn’t know what to do. Of course, I wanted to grab her, hold her, feel her skin against mine again, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t touch her, she wasn’t mine--she was his.

  The flashes erupted again, people yelled at her, said awful things to get a reaction. Her eyes left mine as she scanned the sea of faces behind me. I knew she was looking for him. She was looking for him to rescue her. She wasn’t going to find him here. I took in her appearance, she was in the same red dress, the same shoes, and her hair was even done the same. It was as if he sent her here for a do over.

  He knew there was going to be media people here, maybe not to this extent because clearly someone else was responsible for most of them, but he still sent her. He sent her without any warning of what she was going to be walking into. She went to take a step to the right but the people around her closed off any chance of escape she might have thought she could make.

  Her eyes were begging me to help her because she was stuck, trapped. She couldn’t run out the front. They’d just follow her. She couldn’t stand there and let them shout at her. I knew her temper, and if she did stay, someone was going to end up with a black eye, and a hefty lawsuit was most likely going to follow.

  I took the remaining steps toward her. Her eyes grew as I leaned closer. I whispered in her ear, “Do you trust me?”

  She took a moment but nodded back.

  “Hold onto my hand and don’t let go.”

  She glanced down at my hand that was between our bodies before placing hers in mine. I gripped it tightly. It was as I remembered it, soft and warm.

  I took a steady breath with her before I pushed past her and the people that had closed her in. She clutched at my hand as we rushed past everyone and fled out the front door. More paparazzi were out front of the building. I stopped in my tracks. My plan was to beeline across the street. My studio apartment was a quick walk across the street in a secure building. I gripped her hand tighter and pushed on.

  My arm was out stretched behind me as we darted across the street. When I glanced behind me, she had covered her
face with her bag. More flashes erupted when we made it to the other side of the street. The people around us multiplied. I was a step from grabbing the door handle when she tugged on my arm. I reached for the door anyway and held it open. As Beth hurried in under my arm I saw the devil herself standing in the middle of the crowd.

  Natasha stood amongst the raucous of people in a posh black dress. Her arms were crossed under her chest and, as we locked eyes, her lips curled. Her jet black hair was swept off her face and her clear blue eyes were as cold as her personality. All she needed was some dark smoke around her and maybe a henchman by her side. She was the epitome of the word villain.

  And just like all villains, she disappeared into the crowd of people. I wish I could have said, to never be seen again, but I knew that woman too well. She was just getting started and seeing the destruction she had created was only going to fuel her passion for destroying more lives.

  As the door closed behind me, the sound of the grown men and woman yelling outside was muffled and soon gone. I didn’t say anything as I led Elizabeth to the elevators. We rode up in silence. I sure as hell didn’t know what to say and, by the look on her face, she was more confused and hurt than I’d ever seen her. I imagine she was racking her brain, trying to figure out what went wrong, what would make someone who said they loved you turn on you and leave you for the...who knew how many times it was now?

  I’d been there the first time he left her and, once again, I was the one standing here, picking up the pieces and trying to put them back together again. She followed me down the hall to my door. I pulled my keys out and unlocked it. I pushed the door open and held it for her to walk through. She slipped by me, keeping her distance as she did. I followed her in and closed the door behind me. I locked it, took a steadying breath, then reached for the light switch next to the door.